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And every instrument of battle arrives useless- For against incorporeal enemies what can it even do? - But he devotes himself only to weeping and wailing All night long and all day long. Alas, who will stop his great wailing for him? Or who will check the flow of tears? Who will moderate the sound of his sighs? Who will calm the storm of his reasoning? Who will tame the agitation of his heart? Who, arriving to comfort and console, will soothe the harshness of grief? How I fear—for he is handsome and young— lest he be consumed by laments and wailing. For I long for him to live for a long time, even if I myself left this life untimely; I breathe for him, even if I am without breath. Such an end of life I found, stranger. But at the very departure from life, having cast far away the purple robe and every symbol of rule and power, this humble rag of the monks I put on as a funeral adornment. And my lot now from so great a dominion is a small portion of earth and this rough stone, which hide my dust here. But if you know how to weep with those who weep and to grieve compassionately with those in grief, judge this sociable character worthy of embrace and with prayers make the divine favorable to us, so that we may receive Eden as a new inheritance and the land of the meek as an eternal lot.

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Καὶ πᾶν μάχης ὄργανον ἄπρακτον φθάνει- Πρὸς γὰρ ἀσάρκους δυσμενεῖς τί καὶ δράσῃ; - Μόνοις δὲ κλαυθμοῖς καὶ γόοις προσανέχει Πάννυχον ἅμα καὶ πανήμερον χρόνον. Οἴμοι τίς αὐτῷ τὸν πολὺν στήσει γόον; Ἢ τίς ἐπίσχῃ τὴν φορὰν τῶν δακρύων; Τίς τῶν στεναγμῶν μετριάσει τὸν κτύπον; Τίς δὲ πραϋνεῖ τοῦ λογισμοῦ τὴν ζάλην; Τῆς καρδίας τίς ἡμερώσει τὸν σάλον; Τίς παρακαλῶν καὶ παρήγορος φθάνων Ἐξευμαρίσει τὸ τραχύνον τῆς λύπης; Ὡς δειλιῶ-καλὸς γάρ ἐστι καὶ νέος- Μὴ τοῖς ὀδυρμοῖς συντακῇ καὶ τοῖς γόοις. Ποθῶ γὰρ αὐτὸν ἐς πολὺν ζῆσαι χρόνον, Ἄωρον αὐτὴ κἂν ἔλιπον τὸν βίον· Πνέω δὲ τοῦτον, κἂν τελῶ πνοῆς δίχα. Τοιοῦτον εὗρον τέρμα τοῦ βίου, ξένε. Ἀλλὰ πρὸς αὐταῖς τοῦ βίου ταῖς ἐξόδοις Μακρὰν σκορακίσασα τὴν ἁλουργίδα Καὶ σύμβολον πᾶν ἀρχικὸν καὶ τοῦ κράτους, Τὸ τῶν μοναχῶν εὐτελὲς τουτὶ ῥάκος Ὡς κόσμον ἐντάφιον ἐνστολισάμην. Κλῆρος δέ μοι νῦν ἐκ τοσούτου τοῦ κράτους Βραχὺ μέρος γῆς καὶ τραχὺς οὗτος λίθος, Ἃ τὴν ἐμὴν κρύπτουσιν ἐνθαδὶ κόνιν. Σὺ δ' εἴ γε τοῖς κλαίουσιν οἶδας συγκλάειν Καὶ συλλυπεῖσθαι συμπαθῶς τοῖς ἐν λύπαις, Τὸ φιλόκοινον ἦθος ἀσπαστὸν κρῖνον Λιταῖς τὸ θεῖον εὐμενὲς ἡμῖν τίθει, Ὡς τὴν Ἐδὲμ λάβοιμεν εἰς κλῆρον νέον Καὶ πραέων γῆν εἰς ἀίδιον λάχος.