Faring thro' many a folk and plowing many a sea-plain
These sad funeral-rites (Brother!) to deal thee I come,
So wi' the latest boons to the dead bestowed I may gift thee,
And I may vainly address ashes that answer have none,
Sithence of thee, very thee, to deprive me Fortune behested, 5
Woe for thee, Brother forlore! Cruelly severed fro' me.
* * * *
Yet in the meanwhile now what olden usage of forbears
Brings as the boons that befit mournfullest funeral rites,
Thine be these gifts which flow with tear-flood shed by thy brother,
And, for ever and aye (Brother!) all hail and farewell. 10
Through many a folk and through many waters borne, I am come, brother, to
thy sad grave, that I may give the last gifts to the dead, and may vainly
speak to thy mute ashes, since fortune hath borne from me thyself. Ah,
hapless brother, heavily snatched from me. * * * But now these gifts, which
of yore, in manner ancestral handed down, are the sad gifts to the grave,
accept thou, drenched with a brother's tears, and for ever, brother, hail!
for ever, adieu!