His sister pale, her mother's grief to share:
Thither no less, their rival tears to pay,
His Nemesis and Delia, fond and fair.

There Delia murmured, "In such love as thine
I was too happy; thou, supremely blest,"
Rut Nemesis: "Nay, nay! The loss is mine;
By mine alone his dying hand was pressed."

If after death, we haply may retain
More of true being than a name and shade,
Tibullus now the bright Elysian plain
Doth enter, and hears stir of welcome made.

With ivy garlands on his fadeless brow,
Catullus hails his peer in perfect rhyme;
Comes Calvus, too; and slandered Gallus! thou,--
Not guilty, save if wasted love be crime!

Such comrades now attend thy happy shade,--
If shade in truth to our frail flesh belong:
Th' Elysian company is larger made
By thee, Tibullus, skilled in noble song!

May thy bones rest in peace! is my fond prayer:
Safe and inviolate thine urn shall be.
Be changeless peace on thy loved relies there!
And light the hallowed earth that shelters thee!