Quid Cirrham vel Hyantias Camenas, quid doctos Heliconidum liquores, scalptos alitis hinnientis ictu, nunc in carmina commovere temptas, nostrae o Lampridius decus Thaliae, et me scribere sic subinde cogis, ac si Delphica Delio tulissem instrumenta tuo novusque Apollo cortinam tripodas, chelyn pharetras, arcus grypas agam duplaeque frondis hinc bacas quatiam vel hinc corymbos?.
Lampridius, glory of our poesy, why do you now try to stir to song Cirrha, or the Boeotian Muses, or the maids of Helicon at their inspired fountain dug by a stamp from the hoof of that neighing creature, the winged Pegasus? Why do you suddenly urge me to write, just as if I had carried the Delphic-holy implements for the Delian god you worship, and as if I now were a new Apollo driving on my way the prophetic cauldron and tripod, the lyre, the quiver, the bow, and the gryphons, and shaking here the twy-formed leafage with its berries, and there the clustering vine.
final_alignments\Sidonius_Letters_Book8.json