| |
| | metamorphoses_romulus_selections.htm |
 | | The sound of mourning rose to the ears of stony-hearted Anaxarete, her house chancing to be near the street, where the sad procession passed. |
 | | She took him to her breast, and embraced her son’s cold limbs, and when she had said all the words a distraught father could say, and done the things distraught mothers do, weeping, she led his funeral procession through the heart of the city, carrying the pallid corpse, on a bier, to the pyre. |
 | | Still, she was roused, and said: “Let us see this miserable funeral” and went to a rooftop room with open windows. |
| www.tabney.com /files/metamorphoses_romulus_selections.htm |
|