To Priscianus. (360/361?)
Lucianus, a man not blessed in everything, did not dare to approach me himself -- so thoroughly did he condemn what he had been led to do. Instead, he sent the man who is dearest to both you and me, and whom I would be ashamed to refuse: Pancratius, who knows how to govern, how to speak, and whose honor rests on his own character more than on his father's reputation. This Pancratius urged me to write asking for forgiveness on Lucianus's behalf -- reproaching the one while trusting you would grant the other.
Lucianus stood there in silence, staring at the ground, and I pitied the man, whose silence was an admission that he had nothing to say in his defense.
So I make my request -- but first let me say this much. When you find Admetus sheltering his enemy, so far from doing Themistocles harm that he actually helps speed him on his way [the famous story of Themistocles seeking refuge with King Admetus of the Molossians, who had been his enemy] -- and this even though it was obvious that helping Themistocles meant offending the powers demanding his surrender, and those powers were the greatest Greek cities -- yet still Admetus respected the suppliant's plea more than he feared the danger. Do you, then, count the king of the Molossians a fool for his humanity, or do you marvel at his magnanimity? Does he seem to you more worthy of admiration for that than for his throne?
I now ask you to imitate what you admire: lay aside your anger against this man for the sake of your friends -- or else, by clinging to it, grieve those friends.
Lucianus was in the wrong. He says so himself, so there is no need for a prosecutor. Why would anyone press charges against a man who confesses? This is the moment for mercy -- since the accused neither denies his guilt nor spares himself in his remorse, while your friends wish only what you wish...
Lucianus, a man not blessed in everything, did not dare to approach me himself -- so thoroughly did he condemn what he had been led to do. Instead, he sent the man who is dearest to both you and me, and whom I would be ashamed to refuse: Pancratius, who knows how to govern, how to speak, and whose honor rests on his own character more than on his father's reputation. This Pancratius urged me to write asking for forgiveness on Lucianus's behalf -- reproaching the one while trusting you would grant the other.
Lucianus stood there in silence, staring at the ground, and I pitied the man, whose silence was an admission that he had nothing to say in his defense.
So I make my request -- but first let me say this much. When you find Admetus sheltering his enemy, so far from doing Themistocles harm that he actually helps speed him on his way [the famous story of Themistocles seeking refuge with King Admetus of the Molossians, who had been his enemy] -- and this even though it was obvious that helping Themistocles meant offending the powers demanding his surrender, and those powers were the greatest Greek cities -- yet still Admetus respected the suppliant's plea more than he feared the danger. Do you, then, count the king of the Molossians a fool for his humanity, or do you marvel at his magnanimity? Does he seem to you more worthy of admiration for that than for his throne?
I now ask you to imitate what you admire: lay aside your anger against this man for the sake of your friends -- or else, by clinging to it, grieve those friends.
Lucianus was in the wrong. He says so himself, so there is no need for a prosecutor. Why would anyone press charges against a man who confesses? This is the moment for mercy -- since the accused neither denies his guilt nor spares himself in his remorse, while your friends wish only what you wish...
Modern English rendering for readability. See the 19th-century translation or original Latin/Greek for scholarly use.