From: Libanius, rhetorician in Antioch
To: Leontius
Date: ~359 AD
Context: A charming letter about excessive praise, drawing on Homer's goldsmith and Theseus's reckless courage.
You truly belong to the golden age, you who pour gold over my leaden words in your letters -- like that goldsmith in Homer who gilded the horns of a heifer. The horns weren't gold to begin with, but once they'd received the gold from Laerces's craft, they looked golden to everyone who saw them.
And you do the same: you pour gold over my work, which is as far from gold as can be, comparing to Aphrodite those I would compare to Thersites [the ugliest man in the Iliad].
You even endure a dangerous business for friendship's sake, like Theseus. For when I've already reached my own judgment about the quality of my work, and you vote otherwise, you're deceiving anyone who believes you. And you know what Solon thought about deceivers.
I value your safety more than your praises. Even if the praise is more pleasant, the other is more prudent. So either stop exaggerating entirely, or -- if your love drives you to excess and you can't help yourself -- be content to use those hyperboles on me, since you'll never fool me. But when you talk to others, respect moderation. That way you'll do a favor both for yourself and for the truth.
**To Leontius** (359/60)
You are truly of the golden race, you who pour gold over your friends' words of bronze in your own letters — much like Homer's goldsmith who does the same with the cow. For her horns were not golden, but once they received gold through the craft of Laerces, they appeared golden to all who saw them.
So too you pour gold over my words, which are as far from gold as can be, likening to Aphrodite what I myself would liken to Thersites.
And indeed, out of friendship you endure a matter fraught with danger, just like Theseus. For it is plain that when I hold this opinion of my own work and you cast your vote the other way, you are deceiving those who believe you — and you know what Solon thinks about those who practice such deception.
For my part, I value your safety more highly than any praise of myself. For even if the latter is more pleasant, the former is better.
So either abandon altogether this habit of overstating things, or — if your affection drives you to such extravagance and you simply cannot help yourself — then indulge it only with me, whom you could never deceive. But when you speak to others, respect moderation. In this way you will both gratify yourself and stay clear of the law.
Context:A charming letter about excessive praise, drawing on Homer's goldsmith and Theseus's reckless courage.
You truly belong to the golden age, you who pour gold over my leaden words in your letters -- like that goldsmith in Homer who gilded the horns of a heifer. The horns weren't gold to begin with, but once they'd received the gold from Laerces's craft, they looked golden to everyone who saw them.
And you do the same: you pour gold over my work, which is as far from gold as can be, comparing to Aphrodite those I would compare to Thersites [the ugliest man in the Iliad].
You even endure a dangerous business for friendship's sake, like Theseus. For when I've already reached my own judgment about the quality of my work, and you vote otherwise, you're deceiving anyone who believes you. And you know what Solon thought about deceivers.
I value your safety more than your praises. Even if the praise is more pleasant, the other is more prudent. So either stop exaggerating entirely, or -- if your love drives you to excess and you can't help yourself -- be content to use those hyperboles on me, since you'll never fool me. But when you talk to others, respect moderation. That way you'll do a favor both for yourself and for the truth.
Modern English rendering for readability. See the 19th-century translation or original Latin/Greek for scholarly use.