ulterius sed enim producere questus non licet; en hilaris circumstat turba tuorum defensatque patrem! quem non hoc agmine vincas? Di patrii, quos auguriis super aequora magnis litus ad Ausonium devexit Abantia classis, tu, ductor populi longe migrantis, Apollo, cuius adhuc volucrem laeva cervice sedentem respiciens blande felix Eumelus adorat, tuque, Actaea Ceres, cursu cui semper anhelo votivam taciti quassamus lampada mystae, et vos, Tyndaridae, quos non horrenda Lycurgi Taygeta umbrosaeque magis coluere Therapnae: hos cum plebe sua patriae servate penates.
But I may not further prolong my complaints. See, a merry throng surrounds you, your children, defending their father. With such a troop, whom would you not vanquish? Gods of our land, whom an Abantian fleet bore overseas with great auguries to Ausonias shore, and you, Apollo, guide of the far-wandering folk, whose bird perched on your left shoulder fortunate Eumelus still fondly eyes and adores, and you, Actaean Ceres, for whom we silent devotees ever wave the votive torch in our breathless course, and you, sons of Tyndareus, to whom Lycurgus grim Taygetus and shady Therapnae gave no devouter worship: protect this hearth and its folk for our country.
final_alignments\Statius_Silvae_Book4.json