Catullus 101

Borne through many lands and many seas,
I come, brother, to these sorrowful blessings,
So that I might bestow you with the last gift of death,
And speak idly to your still ashes,
Since doom has stolen you yourself from me.
Woe, wretched brother stolen unworthily from me!
For the while, however, take these which in the old ways of our forebears,
Were handed down as a sad gift for blessings in death,
Sodden with brotherly tears,
And forever, brother, hail and farewell.