Letter 7021: ---
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Where has it gone — that faith of your shining conscience, now placed in such peril? The faith that even grey-haired reverence does not abandon in the years of boyhood; that the wisdom born of an elder's judgment illuminates; that, ripening into maturity through the deeds of youth, passes beyond childhood and carries all before it? Was it just that only commands should be returned to the pages of one who loves you? Or is the faith owed to free correspondence the same as that owed to a servant's note? Did you judge it consistent with your proven character not to respond to one who was urging you toward the duties of religious life? Or did you perhaps think it a transgression to answer letters that, amid your various absences, it happened you had not received?
Is this, then, your discipline? Your virtue, once so openly displayed to the world, does not spread that kind of report about you.
I, however, with that talkativeness for which I am notorious, am straining to thaw your frozen silences. Is your tongue not equal to your birth? Do you not proclaim the testimony of your lineage through the flower of your speech? Does the rich eloquence of your heart abandon the purple splendor of utterance? He who, when he is perfectly able to do so, withholds words from one who thirsts for them, betrays nothing but malice.
And yet — behold what manner of words I, a second Silenus [the famously drunken tutor of Bacchus], compose between one belch and the next, as befits a devotee of the wine-god. Know this: your name shall be written into the purple of my genius, and inscribed in my own little books — so that even if you contribute nothing so far as a reply is concerned, I at least hold the commanding ground, in that I am sending to learned men something that can be read without anyone trembling in embarrassment.
My lord, receive the homage of my greeting, and discharge what you owe in letters.
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*May your chastity stand firm through all the ages yet to come,*
*And may nothing perish of what a blessed life has given you,*
*May no dark-complexioned girl leave her stain upon your limbs,*
*Nor may you lie brought low by some face fit for Tartarus [i.e., hideous enough to haunt the underworld]:*
*So long as through your writings you relieve one eager for your words with holy speech,*
*And from your fountains let a stream of water flow to your brother.*
Modern English rendering for readability. See the 19th-century translation or original Latin/Greek for scholarly use.
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