Book IX, Epigram 29 (Ker)

Philaenis, who hast measured to the full the ages of Nestor's long life, hast thou been hurried so swiftly to the nether waters of Dis? Not as yet wert thou reckoning the long years of Euboea's Sibyl: older by three months was she. Alas, what a tongue is silent! That tongue not a thousand slave-marts used to drown, nor the throng that worships Serapis, nor the curly-headed troop of the schoo. master at morn, nor the river bank that echoes to Strymon's flock of cranes. Who now will be cunning with Thessalian wheel to draw earthward the nioon, what bawd to sell this or that marriage bed? May upon thee earth be light, and thou be covered with crumbling sand, that thy bones dogs may not — be unable to root up!