Flebat igitur mater ejus irremediabilibus lacrimis, atque dicebat: Heu, heu me, fili mi! ut quid te misimus peregrinari, lumen oculorum nostrorum, baculum senectutis nostræ, solatium vitæ nostræ, spem posteritatis nostræ?
But his mother wept and was quite disconsolate, and said: Woe, woe is me, my son; why did we send thee to go to a strange country, the light of our eyes, the staff of our old age, the comfort of our life, the hope of our posterity?
Matre ergo de illo fle irremediabile lacrimas, et dic: heu, heu me, filio meo! Ut quid te mitte peregrinor, lumine de oculos nostro, baculo de senectute nostro, solatio de vita nostro, spe de posteritate nostro?