Letter 7004: O clouds that come blown by the swift North Wind,

More to Gogo O clouds that come blown by the swift North Wind, O wheel that hangs spinning on the starry axis — tell me in what health my dear Gogo thrives, what he is doing in peaceful times with a serene mind: Does he linger near the shores of the wave-wandering Rhine, so that the fat of salmon may be drawn by net from the waters? Or does he walk above the grape-bearing river of the Moselle, where a light breeze tempers the burning day — where vine and river soften the midday heat: shade cool from the vines, water fresh from the current? Or the sweet-sounding Meuse, where crane and wild goose and goose and swan abound, rich in triple commerce — bird, fish, and boat? Or does he hold where the Aisne breaks on its grassy banks, whose waters nourish pastures, meadows, and crops? The Esera? The Saar? The Gares? The Scheldt? The Sate? The Somme? The Sura? Or the river that comes to Metz bearing a name from salt? Or does he rather roam the summer woods and glades, here trapping beasts with net, there killing with the spear? Does the Ardennes or the Vosges thunder with the slaughter of stag, roe, elk, and aurochs under the singing arrow? Or does he strike the field between the horns of a strong buffalo, while bear and wild ass and boar do not postpone their death? Or does he cultivate his own lands, plowing the burnt fallow, while the ox groans at the crude plow upon its neck? Or does he sit content now in the palace hall, where the court assembles, clapping in loyal love? Or does he deliberate with sweet Lupus on the duties of piety, and with equal counsel create gentle honey — that the poor may be fed, that widows may receive comfort, that the small child may find a guardian, the needy find help? Whatever they do, may happy prayers attend them equally, and may they find joy in the love of Christ the King. I beg you, O winds, who run and return: carry these tidings for your Fortunatus.

IV Item ad eundem Nubila quae rapido perflante Aquilone venitis, pendula sidereo quae movet axe rota, dicite qua vegitet carus mihi Gogo salute, quid placidis rebus mente serenus agit: si prope fluctivagi remoratur litora Rheni, ut salmonis adeps rete trahatur aquis; an super uviferi Mosellae obambulat amnem, quo levis ardentem temperet aura diem, pampinus et fluvius medios ubi mitigat aestus: vitibus umbra rigens, fluctibus unda recens; aut Mosa dulce sonans, quo grus ganta anser olorque est, triplice merce ferax (alite pisce rate) an tenet herbosis qua frangitur Axona ripis, cuius aluntur aquis pascua prata seges? Esera? Sara? Gares? Scaldis? Sate? Somena? Sura? seu qui Mettis adit de sale nomen habens? aut aestiva magis nemorum saltusque pererrans cuspide, rete feras hinc ligat, inde necat? Ardenna an Vosagus cervi caprae helicis uri caede sagittifera silva fragore tonat? seu validi bufali ferit inter cornua campum, nec mortem differt ursus onager aper? an sua rura colens exusta novalia sulcat et rude cervici taurus aratra gemit? sive palatina residet modo laetus in aula, cui scola congrediens plaudit amore sequax? an cum dulce Lupo pietatis iura retractant consilioque pari mitia mella creant, quo pascatur inops, viduae solacia praestent, parvus tutorem sumat, egenus opem? quidquid agunt, pariter felicia vota secundent, et valeant Christi regis amore frui. vos precor, o venti, qui curritis atque reditis, pro Fortunato nuntia ferte suo.