Parentalia X. — Ausonius, my Son, a Little Child

I will not leave you unwept, my son, nor rob you of the complaint due to your memory — you, my first-born child, and called by my name. Just as you were practising to transform your babbling into the first words of childhood and were of ripe natural gifts we had to mourn for your decease. You on your great-grandfather's bosom lie sharing one common grave, lest you should suffer the reproach of your one lone tomb.