Book VII, 260

Find no fault with my fate, traveller, in passing my tomb; not even in death have I aught that calls for mourning. I left children’s children, I enjoyed the company of one wife who grew old together with me. I married my three children, and many children sprung from these unions I lulled to sleep on my lap, never grieving for the illness or loss of one. They all, pouring their libations on my grave, sent me off on a painless journey to the home of the pious dead to sleep the sweet sleep.