To my brother Volusianus.
You command me, dear brother — by the law of friendship, which it is sinful to violate — to put my long-idle fingers back on the anvil of my old workshop and inscribe a funeral poem in mournful verse on the tomb of the saintly Abraham, who has departed this life. I will obey your instructions quickly, drawn by your authority and above all by the devotion of the most distinguished Count Victorius — a man I honor as my patron by secular law and cherish as my son by ecclesiastical law. He showed clearly enough how fierce his care for the servants of Christ burned, when he bent over the dying bishop's bed, humbling himself no less in spirit than in body, and with his face as pale as the bishop's own deathly pallor, revealed through his tears what he wished for the man.
Since Victorius himself seized the principal role in the burial — providing everything that was fitting for a bishop's funeral — we contribute at least the words that remain, inscribing with the cutting stylus nothing more than a testimony of mutual love. But the man's character, deeds, and virtues will be most inadequately weighed by the mediocrity of my words:
Abraham, rightly numbered among the holy patrons —
whom I do not hesitate to call your colleagues —
for they lead, but you follow close behind:
a share in martyrdom grants a share in the kingdom.
Born by the Euphrates, for Christ you endured
the dungeon and the loose chains of a five-year famine,
escaping the cruel king of the Susian shore,
you hurried alone to the western world.
But the signs of virtue follow the confessor:
you, a fugitive, put evil spirits to flight.
Wherever you come, the crowd of ghosts cries out in retreat;
you, an exile, send demons into exile.
Sought by all, no ambition touches you;
the honor thrust upon you is a burden.
You flee the clamor of Rome and Constantinople,
the broken walls of arrow-scattering Titus [Jerusalem].
The walls of Alexandria and Antioch do not hold you;
you scorn the Carthaginian roofs of Dido.
You disdain the populous marshlands of Ravenna
and the city named for the woolly pig [Parma? or another Italian city].
This small corner pleases you, this humble retreat,
this hut whose ridge-beam was thatched with straw.
Here you built a temple worthy of God,
having first made of your body God's own temple.
Here both your journey and your life came to their end:
a double crown awaits your labors.
Already the thousands of sacred paradise surround you;
already a fellow pilgrim Abraham [the patriarch] welcomes you;
already you enter the homeland from which Adam fell;
already you may go to the source of your own river.
There — as you commanded, we have paid the final rites to the buried man. But if in turn brothers, friends, and fellow soldiers owe obedience to the commands of charity, I ask you in return: go to his disciples, who shine with the training you instill, and console them in their grief. Reorganize their wavering rule according to the statutes of the fathers of Lerins and Grigny [monastic foundations]. If any resist, correct them yourself; if any follow, praise them yourself.
Their superior appears to be the holy Auxanius — who, as you know, is a man somewhat excessively frail in body and shy in temperament, and therefore readier to obey than to command. He needs you to be asked to come, so that under your guidance the monastery's master may receive his own mastery — and if any junior scorns him as timid or inexperienced, through you alone he may learn that neither fault can be despised with impunity. In short, do you want to know what I am asking? Let Brother Auxanius be abbot over the congregation — and you be abbot over the abbot. Farewell.
EPISTULA XVII
Sidonius Volusiano fratri salutem.
1. Iubes me, domine frater, lege amicitiae, quam nefas laedi, iam diu desides digitos incudibus officinae veteris imponere et sancto Abrahae diem functo neniam sepulchralem luctuosis carminibus inscribere. celeriter iniunctis obsecundabo, cum tua tractus auctoritate, tum principaliter amplissimi viri Victorii comitis devotione praeventus, quem iure saeculari patronum, iure ecclesiastico filium excolo ut cliens, ut pater diligo; qui satis docuit, quae sibi aut qualis erga famulos Christi cura ferveret, cum torum circa decumbentis antistitis, non dignitatem minus quam membra curvatus ac supra vultum propinqua morte pallentem dolore concolor factus, quid viro vellet lacrimis indicibus ostenderet.
2. et quia sibi maximas humandi funeris partes ipse praeripuit, totum apparatu supercurrentis impendii quod funerando sacerdoti competeret impertiens, saltim ad obsequium quae remanserunt verba conferimus, nihil aliud exaraturi stili scalpentis impressu quam testimonium mutuae dilectionis. ceterum viri mores gesta virtutes indignissime meorum vilitate dictorum ponderabuntur.
Abraham sanctis merito sociande patronis,
quos tibi collegas dicere non trepidem;
nam sic praecedunt, ut mox tamen ipse sequare:
dat partem regni portio martyrii.
natus ad Euphraten, pro Christo ergastula passus
et quinquennali vincula laxa fame,
elapsus regi truculento Susidis orae
occiduum properas solus ad usque solum.
sed confessorem virtutum signa sequuntur
spiritibusque malis fers, fugitive, fugam.
quaque venis, Lemurum se clamat cedere turba;
daemonas ire iubes exul in exilium.
expeteris cunctis, nec te capit ambitus ullus;
est tibi delatus plus onerosus honor.
Romuleos refugis Byzantinosque fragores
atque sagittifero moenia fracta Tito.
murus Alexandri te non tenet Antiochique;
spernis Elisseae Byrsica tecta domus.
rura paludicolae temnis populosa Ravennae
et quae lanigero de sue nomen habent.
angulus iste placet paupertinusque recessus
et casa, cui culmo culmina pressa forent.
aedificas hic ipse deo venerabile templum,
ipse dei templum corpore facte prius.
finiti cursus istic vitaeque viaeque:
sudori superest dupla corona tuo.
iam te circumstant paradisi milia sacri;
Abraham iam te conperegrinus habet;
iam patriam ingrederis, sed de qua decidit Adam;
iam potes ad fontem fluminis ire tui.
3. ecce, ut iniunxeras, quae restant sepulto iusta persolvimus; sed, si vicissim caritatis imperiis fratres amicos commilitones obsequi decet, ad vicem, quaeso, tu quoque quibus emines institutis discipulos eius aggredere solari fluctuantemque regulam fratrum destitutorum secundum statuta Lirinensium patrum vel Grinincensium festinus informa; cuius disciplinae si qui rebelles, ipse castiga; si qui sequaces, ipse conlauda.
4. praepositus illis quidem videtur sanctus Auxanius, qui vir, ut nosti, plusculum iusto et corpore infirmus et verecundus ingenio eoque parendi quam imperandi promptior exigit te rogari, ut tuo ipse sub magisterio monasterii magister accedat et, si quis illum de iunioribus spreverit tamquam imperitum vel pusillanimem, per te unum sentiat utrumque non impune contemni. quid multa? vis ut paucis quid velim agnoscas? quaeso, ut abbas sit frater Auxanius supra congregationem, tu vero et supra abbatem. vale.
◆
To my brother Volusianus.
You command me, dear brother — by the law of friendship, which it is sinful to violate — to put my long-idle fingers back on the anvil of my old workshop and inscribe a funeral poem in mournful verse on the tomb of the saintly Abraham, who has departed this life. I will obey your instructions quickly, drawn by your authority and above all by the devotion of the most distinguished Count Victorius — a man I honor as my patron by secular law and cherish as my son by ecclesiastical law. He showed clearly enough how fierce his care for the servants of Christ burned, when he bent over the dying bishop's bed, humbling himself no less in spirit than in body, and with his face as pale as the bishop's own deathly pallor, revealed through his tears what he wished for the man.
Since Victorius himself seized the principal role in the burial — providing everything that was fitting for a bishop's funeral — we contribute at least the words that remain, inscribing with the cutting stylus nothing more than a testimony of mutual love. But the man's character, deeds, and virtues will be most inadequately weighed by the mediocrity of my words:
Abraham, rightly numbered among the holy patrons — whom I do not hesitate to call your colleagues — for they lead, but you follow close behind: a share in martyrdom grants a share in the kingdom. Born by the Euphrates, for Christ you endured the dungeon and the loose chains of a five-year famine, escaping the cruel king of the Susian shore, you hurried alone to the western world. But the signs of virtue follow the confessor: you, a fugitive, put evil spirits to flight. Wherever you come, the crowd of ghosts cries out in retreat; you, an exile, send demons into exile. Sought by all, no ambition touches you; the honor thrust upon you is a burden. You flee the clamor of Rome and Constantinople, the broken walls of arrow-scattering Titus [Jerusalem]. The walls of Alexandria and Antioch do not hold you; you scorn the Carthaginian roofs of Dido. You disdain the populous marshlands of Ravenna and the city named for the woolly pig [Parma? or another Italian city]. This small corner pleases you, this humble retreat, this hut whose ridge-beam was thatched with straw. Here you built a temple worthy of God, having first made of your body God's own temple. Here both your journey and your life came to their end: a double crown awaits your labors. Already the thousands of sacred paradise surround you; already a fellow pilgrim Abraham [the patriarch] welcomes you; already you enter the homeland from which Adam fell; already you may go to the source of your own river.
There — as you commanded, we have paid the final rites to the buried man. But if in turn brothers, friends, and fellow soldiers owe obedience to the commands of charity, I ask you in return: go to his disciples, who shine with the training you instill, and console them in their grief. Reorganize their wavering rule according to the statutes of the fathers of Lerins and Grigny [monastic foundations]. If any resist, correct them yourself; if any follow, praise them yourself.
Their superior appears to be the holy Auxanius — who, as you know, is a man somewhat excessively frail in body and shy in temperament, and therefore readier to obey than to command. He needs you to be asked to come, so that under your guidance the monastery's master may receive his own mastery — and if any junior scorns him as timid or inexperienced, through you alone he may learn that neither fault can be despised with impunity. In short, do you want to know what I am asking? Let Brother Auxanius be abbot over the congregation — and you be abbot over the abbot. Farewell.
Modern English rendering for readability. See the 19th-century translation or original Latin/Greek for scholarly use.