The poet Catullus expresses at deep grief at the death of his brother (101):

Through many nations and through many seas

Ihave come, brother, for these poor funeral rites,

So that I might render you the last dues of the dead

And in vain comfort your silent ashes,

Because Fortune has robbed me of you, alas,

Poor brother, unfairly taken from me.

But now, meanwhile, accept these gifts which by ancient custom

Of the ancestors are offered in sad duty

At funeral rites, gifts drenched in a brother's tears,

And forever, brother, goodbye and farewell.

Source: Catullus: The Complete Poems, edited by Guy Lee (New York: Oxford University Press, 19,98).