Face troubles from their birth, for 'tis too late to cure
When long delay has given the evil strength.
Haste then; postpone not to the coming hour: tomorrow
He'll be less ready who's not ready now.
Truly it is allowed us to weep: by weeping we disperse our wrath; and tears go through the heart, even like a stream.
[Lat., Flere licet certe: flendo diffundimus iram:
Perque sinum lacrimae, fluminis instar enim.]
Ovid lies here, the poet, skilled in love's gentle sport;
By his own talents he worked his undoing.
Oh, you who pass by, if ever you have loved,
Think it not a burden to wish him calm repose.
Writings survive the years; it is by writings that you know Agamemnon, and those who fought for or against him.
[Lat., Scripta ferunt annos; scriptis Agamemnona nosti,
Et quisquis contra vel simul arma tulit.]