Book XV, 32: On his own Sister

Even if swift fate has put out the lamp of my life, depriving my torch of its light, yet did my evil demon satisfy the fury of his spite in making all my life wretched. He made me a widow early just as my breasts were swelling, nor did I look on a fair child at play, the sweet jewel in a parent’s arms. Therefore did mourning overcome me by the cruel torch of decline. In my twenty-third year did this tomb, the hospice of my race, receive me. There did my aged parents weave for all a dirge, tearing their grey hair, and the company of Anna’s noble brothers groaned as they bethought them fondly of the brilliance of her beauty.