ei mihi, sed quanto descendit vulnus hiatu! hoc frater? qua parte, precor, iacet ille nefandus praedator? vincam volucres (sit adire potestas) excludamque feras; an habet funestus et ignes? sed nec te flammis inopem tua terra videbit: ardebis lacrimasque feres quas ferre negatum regibus, aeternumque tuo famulata sepulcro durabit deserta fides, testisque dolorum natus erit, parvoque torum Polynice fovebo.
Woe is me, but how deep this gaping wound! Did a brother do this? Where, I pray, does that villainous robber lie? Given access, I shall outdo the birds and shut out the wild beasts. Or does the murderer actually have a pyre? But you too your land shall not see destitute of flame. You shall burn, and win tears not to be won by kings. Forsaken loyalty shall forever endure, serving your sepulchre. Our son shall be witness to my sorrows; with a little Polynices  I shall warm my bed.
final_alignments\Statius_Thebaid_Book12.json