Gregory of Nazianzus: two epitaphs for his brother

I'm currently at work on a selection from book 8 of the Anthology. This one is a collection of epigrams by a single author: Gregory of Nazianzus 'the Theologian' (d. 390), best friend of Basil of Caesarea and eventually Archbishop of Constantinople. Paton, translator of the Anthology for the Loeb series, is very sniffy about book 8 --

I should personally have preferred to follow the Teubner edition in omitting this book... Gregory evidently enjoyed making verses, but the epigrams make somewhat tedious reading, as there are so many on the same subject.

I think he's terrific, though. He is a learned poet, but his epigrams are personal and moving. Most of them are terribly sad. Basil dies; his parents die (his mother of a long and painful illness); his brother dies: and Gregory counts the rosary of his grief in chains of epigrams. Here are two for that brilliant brother of his. The second has Gregory's poetic signature worked in, a trait I've also seen in one of his poems for Basil.

91On Caesarius [his brother] 

Wisdom and everything it comprehends:
Geometry, the stations of the stars,
The stratagems of the logician’s art,
Grammar and history too, and speaker’s force:
Caesarius alone of mortal men
With subtle mind and soaring intellect
Could grasp them all. Alas! Now like the rest
He is become a scattering of dust. 

98
On the same 

Gregory’s handiwork. In sad regret
For best of brothers, I proclaim to men
That they should hate and scorn this mortal life.
Who was so fine as my Caesarius?
Who of all men could match him, or could claim
So great a name for wisdom? None that live;
But he has flown from life, gone suddenly,
As might a rose from all the other flowers,
As does the dew from off the leaves at dawn.