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O sad image of my house, how am I to enter, how live in you with my fortune so changed? Alas! How great the difference!  Once with pine-torches from Mount Pelion and bridal songs I entered, holding the hand of my dear wife, and a clamorous throng followed, praising the blessedness of my dead wife and me,  because she and I, both nobly born, had become man and wife. Now groans of grief in answer to those songs and black robes in place of white escort me in  to a desolate bed-chamber.