Miscellaneous Writings of Theodore Prodromus

THEODORI PRODROMI CARMINA IN SS. TRINITATEM, IN SALVATORIS CRUCIFIXIONEM, IN DUODECIM DIES FESTOS D. N. JESU CHRISTO SACROS, IN S. PETRI CRUCIFIXIONEM, IN ABRAHAMUM SS. TRINITATEM HOSPITIO EXCIPIENTEM; ENCOMIA S. PAULI APOSTOLI, GREGORII THEOLOGI, BASILII, CHRYSOSTOMI, GREGORII NYSSENI ET NICOLAI MYRENSIS.

^A Beginning without beginning, cause of all, God, King, stable, remaining in the same, wise sweetness, love itself, charity itself, liberal, rich, straight, rectitude, one, same, equal, perfect end of all, life, beautiful light, essence good by itself, sweet, provident, essentiality, infinity, divine, simple, all virtue totally, sufficiency, justice, wisdom itself, creating, immortal, life itself, saving, beginning of all, holiness, sole reigning, Lord, end of all, Mind and Word and Spirit: for these are God, altogether of the same nature and consubstantial. The Word is the offspring of the Mind, the cause of all, most holy Son of the most holy Father, the fruit without beginning of the root without beginning, the pure seal, never shaken. The Spirit also proceeding and issuing from the Mind, most high, and to be worshipped equally with the Father and the Word, the same by nature and power and might. Nothing is separate in the three, these three are one, graspable by reasoning, but only slightly. Who will worship these and be saved? If these are orthodox, why do you not reckon me among the orthodox? If they are not orthodox, bring forward your arguments. ^B

Heroic verses on the crucifixion

On the same: Similar items.

Verses on the twelve feast days of our Lord Jesus Christ.

On Abraham, welcoming the holy Trinity.

By the same, on the holy Peter being crucified.

Panegyric on the great apostle Paul.

^A But you, O God, in these things, helper of Paul, be mindful of Theodorus, your servant, in his piety. When, released, you sit upon the divine seat to judge the measures of Andromachean life.

Verses on Gregory the Theologian

Verses on Basil the Great

Verses on Chrysostom

A chain binding our men, And you, taking up the long cycles of a beloved life, Angel of mercy, hope of the sinful. Heart breathing beyond the miserable of mortals, Divine orator, initiate of great theology. Flesh of holy abstinence and immaterial within matter, Winged progenitor of an infinite book, ^A Antiochian, the offspring and benefit of the whole world, Bestowing the good gifts of justice. For because of the many-sorrowed vineyard, You endured exile from your seats, And in your labors Byzantium gave you—not according to the world— Setting you, a noble ruler, among the transgressions Of a foreign land; yet you did not leave The throne, which was the queen-city of cities. But after thirty full cycles of years, Being brought back finally to Rome, Though dead, you spoke to all concerning peace, To those who love good, the prizes of life.

Similar verses on Gregory of Nyssa. I sing of Gregory, lately the brother of Basil, Shepherd of the Cappadocians, shepherd of the Nyssenes, Not unworthily, of a man noble and virtuous, The second scourge of Eunomius, hater of God, The second expounder of the primordial creation of the world, The learned expounder of human history. Hail, winged nature, swift mind, sweet tale, Sweet-sounding garden of graces with lovely tresses, Tongue dripping honey, sweeter than Hymettian, ^A a steady mind, flower of pure temperance. O destroyer of the ungodly, foundation of the pious, Right-cutter, worshiper of the mighty Trinity, You who showed us the shadowy path of lofty song, Progenitor of the great, deep-minded Solomon, Revealing to us the way of light-bearing wisdom, Casting every stumbling-block out from the middle of the path. If you were made as a bishop to the Nyssenes, Not for the Nyssenes alone do you act as overseer, But all the offspring of mortals, yours they were, and even still Your words oversee the whole world. Hymned glory of the blessed, the pride of the holy, Who matched your life to your word and your word to your life, Harmoniously singing under the lovely lyre, You distil great joy into the ears of the heart.

Similar verses on Saint Nicholas. But afterwards I sound out pity, I sing of pity, I strike up pity; my lyre sings of pity. What is sweeter for mortals to sing than pity? I celebrate Nicholas, the holy high-priest of Nicaea. Hail, sweet-flowing sea of mercy, savior, Quick to the ears and heart of those who supplicate. You who released the gray-headed man, weighed down by poverty, The father of three unfortunate daughters; Through the dark night, from the golden bonds of kings, You delivered the three, moving your footsteps in return. You who, cutting the forestays and all the sails Of the wet-footed, storm-tossed ship, Cast them down ^C into the depths and to the darkness of Hades, So that, coming in dreams to the great ruler, You released the men, the gold-worshipping official, Having uttered a terrible rebuke and a fear; pouring around So that from the height upon this ship, it fell [to pieces]...

and [you] saved the life of [your] companions, having stretched forth [your] hand and mind simultaneously toward heaven. Hail, Heart of God, hail, most pious Father, who by mercy didst bring aid to men. Hail, and may God grant to the singer grace in both lives. ^A

THE WORKS OF THEODORE PRODROMUS EXPOSITION OF THE CANONS FOR THE DOMINICAL FEASTS COMPOSED BY THE HOLY AND LEARNED POETS COSMAS AND JOHN DAMASCENE.

(MAI, Spicil. Rom. tom. V.)

Proemium to the Orphanotrophos.

You seem, O man of God, to urge us to expound the chants sung on the Dominical and public feasts by those holy men and mouthpieces of the Spirit, since, by calling [this] evangelical and divine parable into effect, you deign to invite me to a feast both celebrated and royal, which offers all the food most excellent. Why, surely, would I not seem to behave insanely if, by pretending [reasons] such as a yoke of oxen purchased, or a wife newly taken, or a field bought—like those haters of God and of holy things—I should cast myself out of such luxury and pleasure, and out of such a great banquet; and not only should I hunger for such ambrosia, ^B but I should also make myself liable to the curses of disobedience? For if I were to refuse the invitation and say, "Hold me excused," O blessed one, would you not, in my stead, ask the poor, the crippled, the lame, and the blind, whom you would call to the dining hall in our place? And yet, your present enclosure is so filled with many such [people] that there would not even be need for you to go out into the squares and streets of the city to call these crippled [people]; but [you would have only to] sound the summons to the dining hall, and those by tribes and swarms would immediately rush together to the call. Therefore, allowing every excuse now to be cast aside, I will obey you who summon me. Take [me], lead me to the banquet, and recline me just as you wish—and ^C make me guilty of the crime. For what? If I were to refuse the invitation and say, "Hold me excused," would you not, O blessed man, call the poor, the lame, the blind in my place to the sacred banquet? Now, in truth, your house will certainly be filled with such [people], so that there would be no need for you to go out to the squares and streets of the city and invite strangers. For as soon as you have first called [them] to your table, a multitude and crowd will hear you. Therefore, without any pretext, I will obey your voice. Be willing, therefore, to usher me to the supper, and to assign the place which you wish. Let us eat the bread, heavenly and angelic, in a human manner; and where the evangelical bull or calf

^A might be present at the table—if, I say, the mind or the word is somewhat crabbed, and requires a stronger digestion or grinding, let us grind it; and this, insofar as it is possible, and with our rational molars let us grind it, that thus, if God should grant, we might provide the prepared nourishment to those who approach.

We must begin, they say, from where it is better to begin; and it is better to begin with the annual cycle, and to revolve along with this, a higher zodiac cycle than the accurate explanation of the Lord’s canons. Since the first month of the annual circuit ^B is hallowed by the festival of the Exaltation of the Cross, we shall first explain the sounds poured forth upon this occasion by the lyre of the inspired Cosmas. For this holy man has set before us in his great canon, if anyone else ever has, a history most rich; and he possesses, inherent in the poetic quality of his diction, a great intensity. And no one could easily follow him, unless he were very familiar with all sacred history, both the older and the newer. Hence, therefore, we must begin our undertaking, and explain those things in it that have been spoken in a somewhat difficult way; for otherwise it is disheartening to us, the pious, and it is a law, as it were, un-defiled, which has passed from the Fathers down to us, to make the sign of salvation the beginning of every scripture, so that, as if assisted from that source, ^C the writing might flow forward most easily and without partiality. But piety outstrips the grace of the melody, and carries away my mind; for wonder at how many songs and musical crowns the canon is filled! And perhaps I would have undertaken the explanation of the music, had it not seemed redundant to some and greater than the work itself, as if it were a side issue. At any rate, we must set upon the canon itself according to what is possible, and interpret the meaning which underlies it, and smooth out the polished and rounded roughnesses of the diction. We ought, however, to speak first of the acrostic of the same canon; since there is no obscurity in it, it should be set forth merely word by word: "Trusting in the Cross, I pour forth a hymn." Being, as he truly is, a righteous ^D singer, he trusts as a lion, according to the Scripture, and trustfully says that he pours forth the hymn of the Cross, not from the roaring alone, but indeed from the gut, showing himself a lion. "For a lion," he says, "will roar, and who will not fear?" But, O wonderful musician, the roaring of lions is appalling, and frenzied, and most disgusting; whereas you, for the hymn of the Cross, roar the very opposite—most gracefully and musically, and breathing forth a spiritual fragrance. Perhaps, therefore, that verse from the Psalter will fit your roarings better: "My heart has poured forth a good word"? Certainly; but now let us, too, trusting in the Cross, examine the explanation of the hymn of the Cross.

Ode 1, Tone 4, Hirmos.

Interpretation.

The poet’s diction at the beginning of the chant is truly noble and heroic, and the acrostic itself carries something of the leonine. ^A For from the very beginning he has fittingly adapted the *hirmos* to the primary chant, and at the same time he has not departed from the subject at hand, the panegyric of the holy Cross. Rather, having taken as his single subject the rod of Moses and the Red Sea being divided by it, he has both apportioned what is fitting to the chant and celebrated the grace of the Cross; or rather, he has demonstrated that the very subject of the first chant is a prototype of the Cross. But let us now examine the *hirmos* word for word; and since they say that a puzzle ^B is the beginning of a puzzle, I think we must first resolve this puzzle, which is not unreasonable.

For someone might justly address the poet, being puzzled by his phrasing: "How, having said that Moses 'marked out' the Cross, and having hinted through the expression that the Cross had already come into being, did he then add, 'With his rod he divided the Red Sea in a straight line'?" For surely, he did not divide the Red Sea and unite its parts after having marked out the Cross; rather, it was after dividing and uniting that he marked out the Cross. Therefore, it would have been more logical to say: "Having divided the Red Sea in a straight line with his rod, and having united its parts with a transverse and returning motion, thus Moses marked out the Cross." But to bring in the division of the sea in a straight line after having already mentioned the whole marking out of the Cross by Moses—would this not be absurd, pedantic, ^C unintelligible, and unworthy of that poetic art? For it is clearly like saying that a certain builder, having constructed a house and completed it entirely, then laid the foundations, erected the walls upon the foundations, and placed the roof upon them.

But to this puzzle, this answer must be given to solve it: that the word "to mark out" has a double meaning. ^D There is "to mark out" as in marking out with the hands, and in a sensory way; as when we mark out an image or a letter or anything else that is marked or written. Furthermore, there is "to mark out" as in prefiguring something; as when we say that the burning bush that was not consumed marked out the Ever-Virgin Mother of God. For clearly, the bush did not write the Virgin in a sensory way or with its hands, but symbolically and typically. Since, therefore, as has been said, the word is used in two ways, here the poet has taken the word in its second sense; and taken thus, it will provide no puzzle to the discourse. For he says that Moses, by prefiguring, foreshadowing, and hinting at the Cross, divided the Red Sea with the first straight extension of the rod for the sake of Israel passing through and having already passed through; then—that is, with the second movement of the same rod—having struck it later in a transverse and returning manner, he united the parts of the waters against the chariots of Pharaoh, having perceptibly [D (cont)] charted the invincible weapon, that is to say the Cross, across the breadth of the sea by means of the straight iota and the returning transverse stroke.

That the miracle concerning the Red Sea was a symbol of the divine Cross is obvious to everyone; for through His own rod—that is, the Cross—the new Moses, the Savior, whose rod is a rod of uprightness and a rod of [His] kingdom, as is in the psalm, divided the red [sea of] sin.

^A And the red [sea] is certainly sin, not only because it is likened to blood in Scripture, as in: "Men of blood and deceit," and "He who searches for blood has remembered them," and in another prophet: "Your hands are full of blood," but also because Isaiah, the most loud-voiced, explicitly reveals its redness, saying: "If your sins are as crimson, I shall make them white like snow; and if they are as scarlet, I shall make them white like wool." Having therefore divided this red [sea of] sin, as we have said, the Savior led us, the Israelites, into the desert of the soul's dispassion, but He drowned the demonic Pharaoh-like powers—which might justly be called chariots because of [their] pride and arrogance, by which they were cast down; for certainly not because of harmony, since nothing is harmonious among apostate powers, and all things are incongruous and discordant among them.

^B Quite rightly, moreover, would they be called "tristatae" [thrice-warriors], as they stir up in human nature the uprising and the war from the three most chief modes—I mean anger, desire, and the [wrongful] turning of the rational powers. But the whole integrity is brought to completion from a pure soul; therefore He says, "Let us sing to Christ our God, for He has been glorified." This final refrain of the heirmos was taken word-for-word from the Ode of Moses, but it was most fittingly adapted to the festival of the Cross. For if the Cross is and is called the glory of the Lord, then to be crucified is also said to be lifted up, and this might be called being glorified, just as He Himself says: "Now the Son of Man has been glorified." And the Cross is called not only the glory of the Only-begotten, but also the "principality," as in Isaiah: "Whose principality is upon His shoulder"; for with the Cross, according to Gregory the Great among theologians, one is exalted, etc.

THEODORE PRODROMUS FROM THE EXPOSITION ON THE CANON OF HOLY SATURDAY

^D The present canon is a work, up to the fifth [ode], of Mark, Bishop of Otranto, but from that point to the ninth, of the great poet Cosmas. But long before, as we have from unwritten tradition, a certain noble and wise woman and virgin, named Cassia, was the initiator of the melody and...

^A finished the canon. Those who followed later, while admiring the melody, yet judging it unworthy to mix the songs of that hero Cosmas with a woman’s words, handed over the melody to Mark, and, entrusting to him the irmos, left the weaving of the troparia to him alone. And this report seems to be true: for Mark does not use the letters of the irmoi for the acrostich, although they would have contributed much to him; for example, from *Kymati thalasses* (By the waves of the sea), the letter Kappa, and from *Se ton epi hydaton* (Thee who art upon the waters), the Sigma, would have contributed to his acrostich. But leaving these aside as alien and not his own poems, instead of them he composes troparia, one beginning with Kappa, "Lord my God," and from the Sigma, "Symbols of Thy burial." Hence, from this it is clear that neither the melody nor the irmoi were Mark’s, and it is no less clear from the fact that he says in the irmos of the first ode, "But let us as young maidens sing to the Lord." For since the composer was a young maiden herself, and wishing to signify this very fact, that it was a woman’s ^B song, since there were two choirs at the Exodus, singing the first ode, one of men and another of women, she pushed aside the men’s, and as one who was a woman, she said, "Let us sing to the Lord as young maidens." But now let us also examine the acrostich of the canon, which is twofold, and, so to speak, double-peaked like Parnassus, or a dithyramb like the hymns of Dionysus, or like those animals that live both on land and in sea, which are amphibious. For as long as the melodies chanted on the Great Sabbath remained a *Tetraodion*, the acrostich was a part of an iambic verse, I mean, the iambic verse, "I sing the great Sabbath before the Sabbath." The Great Friday had already taken half of this iambic verse, "I sing the great Sabbath," and the remaining half, "before the Sabbath," was taken here. But since it was necessary for the melody to be extended and for the *Tetraodion* to become a complete canon, the acrostich was correspondingly made whole, and in place of a partial iambic verse, a whole iambic verse ^D was formed. Thus it goes: "And today I sing the great Sabbath."

OF THE MOST PHILOSOPHIC AND MOST ELOQUENT LORD THEODORE PRODROMUS EPISTLES.

^A I. — To the Eparch. We, O blessed and most wise soul, have been sitting for three days now with ears pricked, awaiting the spring-like song of your sacred swallow. But she—I know not whether detesting our solitude (for swallows are accustomed to be more talkative in the most populous places), or whether, weary of the wintry weather around us, she wishes to remain silent and persists in delaying her melody even now; I would not say that she begrudges us the song, but perhaps she judges us unworthy of the melody. But do not you, O best of swallows, extend the winter for us by being silent for so long; rather, sing, and bring with your song the spring of cheerfulness. For even if we hear that one swallow does not make a spring, you at least will bring it about, because you excel the rest of the swallows. For if one man, if he be the best, is worth ten thousand, according to Heraclitus, then indeed one swallow might be reckoned as worth ten thousand, if it be the best. But ten thousand swallows will certainly make spring all the faster, so that I might already see the spring day smiling, and the grass softly sprouting from the earth, and the trees, as it were, flourishing with blossoms. With such hopes as these, O sacred siren, we await you; do not, therefore, leave us still sitting upon these hopes, but answer writing with writing, not being annoyed that you are giving gold in exchange for copper, but rather being gladdened that you are reviving a soul overwhelmed by a myriad of sorrows. Farewell.

II. — Thanks to Alexius Aristenus, Nomophylax, Protecdicus, and Orphanotrophos, for the praises he had poured out for him in public.

^ATragic and dithyrambic poets, most illustrious master (the dithyramb being a meter invented at Corinth by Arion of Methymna, and having much enthusiasm along with choral and Bacchanalian dance), although they carried away only an ox or a jar as a prize for their song, they did not for all that slacken their zeal nor give up their dithyrambic or tragic singing. I, however, having received such and so great rewards for my slight words about you—words which set forward nothing else but simple goodwill—and, moreover, having been enriched many times over by your high and sacred tongue, which so often deigns to remember my own insignificance, ought I not, if I were to set aside all other concerns for the rest of my life, to make it my sole task to hymn your praise, so that I might not only praise you seven times a day, but infinitely, if it were possible, and in your legal and prophetic discourses prattle this most beautiful prattle which the prophets themselves prattle? And yet how would this not be the act of a man reasonably foolish and far removed from philosophy, who, even if he were being struck on the head by you, and pushed by the neck, and ^B suffering all manner of terrible things, should still have to hymn you, and celebrate you with a loud tongue out of reverence for your virtue, in exchange for all the many favors with which you treat him, now with your hand, and now with your tongue, in peace and at your leisure, in preference to the one who hymns you? But if, as Epicharmus says, "hand washes hand," and if, as in Hesiod, one gives to the one who gives, and if, as the proverb has it, it seems right that one who scratches another be scratched in return, and if, as in the tragedy, "grace is that which begets grace"—how could I not pray for Homeric speech for myself, that I might surround the entire world as if it were a theater, so that I might proclaim your praise on high to all?

Let heaven above then know, and let the earth below know; let the rest of the elements know, the nature of water, the mixture of air, the fineness of fire, that behold, I will not hold back my lips—this being that which is sung in the Psalms of David—from singing your thanksgivings in every way. And I have pursued this point, not because you are enamored of the lower and visible glory, nor ^C because you have become inferior to the praise of men, being a man who is greater than any praise and who is a sufficient hymn for himself, even if we other men should be silent; but because I fear the penalty of ingratitude much more than others, and I shrink back, as the proverb says, lest it rank me among the dead who are being anointed. I pray, then, that I may praise the good as far as I am able, but that I may not reproach even the wicked, fearing this most just fear, lest one might call me a second Timon for speaking ill of the good, just as that ancient one did to Speusippus. And furthermore, even if you do not need praises, yet your praises themselves have need of you, not so much praising as being praised by the act of praising. For I hymn ^D your praises, as Cic[ero says]...

^Aero wisely expressed regarding Cato, that man most strenuous in war—a Roman to a Roman: "If Rome has no need of Cato, yet Rome has need of Cato."

Now, that Athenian philosopher (you know the jewel of the elder Academy, Plato), legislated that every man in the republic constituted by him should be skilled in one single art. For he said that a philosopher should not turn to legal practice and legislation, nor a judge back to philosophy, so that in this way the peak and goodness might be achieved in the arts. But if someone should arrive, he says, a man of varying and manifold skill, he declares that such a person should be revered and welcomed as sacred and wonderful, but, nevertheless, sent off to another city—after they have first crowned him with wool and poured ointment over his head. Perhaps he deemed him worthy of honor more divine than human. If we were in that republic, what other man than you, most wise guardian of the laws, would have to be revered and welcomed as sacred, and have his head crowned and be anointed with ointment, as is fitting? For who else has associated with many arts and sciences as you have, and has taken the citadels of them all? Grammar brought you forth as a midwife; and oh, the correctness of expression! How great you have proved to be in finding etymology, how great in choosing analogy, and how ^B deep in judging poems!

Rhetoric—and oh, the yokes and sirens of persuasion! How great you have appeared in advising, how great in judging, and how great in projecting what was conceived through the tongue, and in marking it on paper! Now, the wise Polyeuctus of Sphettus used to proclaim Demosthenes the best orator and Phocion the most formidable speaker, such that the former excelled the latter in rhetorical speaking and writing, while the latter excelled the former in speaking and addressing the people. But you have secured for yourself the renown in both, surpassing Demosthenes in rhetorics and Phocion in public addresses.

Afterwards, Law and Legislation matured you; and oh, the straightness of justice, the balanced scales, the canon, the standard, the sacred equity! How great you have appeared in listening with gentleness, and how great in casting a vote with uprightness, not corrupting judgment, not setting the acceptance of a person or a bribe above the truth! For let that saying of the epic be cast away and discarded: "Gifts persuade the gods, gifts persuade august kings." You, man, hymn Minos and Rhadamanthus, those judges so magnificent and solemn, who would swear even by a dog, or a goose, or a plane tree beforehand, and then settle the vote by a safe and sure oath; for how beautiful are your judges, and worthy to lay down laws for the dead...

and to believe. But as for me, I shall hymn my own wise guardian of the law, who, as we have said, was sacredly sent forth from the Platonic polity with myrrh and garlands, and transferred still more sacredly to the queenly city of Byzantium, and divided between her two parts, I mean the senate and the tribunal, performing the duties of nomophylax in the former and protecdikos in the latter, and by both dignifying the polity. For if one must believe Plato—and one must—he says that power and fortune ought to join with wisdom and justice so that political actions may take on beauty and greatness. And in whom else should we find all these having entered together? For fortune and power, having come from on high, as it were by birth, were increased by the honors from the emperor; while wisdom and justice were, so to speak, implanted in his soul from his very birth. Thereafter, justice was increased by learning, and wisdom by experience. You are, moreover, quite captive to philosophy of every kind, O orphan-guardian; it shows clearly that you are one who, before speaking, dips your speech into the mind, which is something Zeno also posited as a clear proof of philosophy. ^A Thus, therefore, did Grammar and Rhetoric, and also Jurisprudence, and Philosophy, O most just of the protecdikoi, nourish you; not in the manner of some gifted people, who grasp what is said easily and cast it off more easily; nor, on the other hand, in the manner of the ungifted, who grasp things slowly and retain them yet more slowly; but you receive knowledge most sharply and in an instant, and you do not cast it off—or rather, one might say, it is not Achaean moonshine. ^B But as for the wise administration and management of political affairs, who could clearly set it forth by speaking either of faith or of skill? For that saying of Archilochus, slightly paraphrased, will befit you; for you are, according to him, "Both a servant of the effective God, and one who knows the lovely gift of the Muses." ^C Athens declares these things, and Thebes, and the rest of Greece, and even those places far from Attica; some have had you as their greatest leader in the sight of their own eyes, others have received you having come on the pinion of fame. And of old the Athenian sage said in a letter, "The whole world looks only to Dion." Truly, I admire Dion reading the historical books; but that the whole world should look with admiration upon someone, that I attribute to my own friend, the nomophylax. For if the ruling city has been established as the heart of the world, and this city looks entirely to him, it is clear that the whole of the remaining body will be led along with the heart. Justice stands firm about the royal palace, and the senate looks to the nomophylax, each striving to snatch some word from his voice. The vote is struck in the sacred palaces, and there is no one who does not grant the first prizes of eloquence to the protecdikos. Does, therefore, the whole of Byzantium, or rather the whole world, look to this one man? And if the poor are a part of the world, those who are injured in their bodies and...

carrying about limbs mutilated and defiled, upon whom else would this part of the world turn its eyes, if not upon him who, bearing the name of "father of orphans," thereby exhibits the testimony of a virtuous and benevolent mind? There is a race of people, the Psylli, who are said to be able to heal the bites of wild beasts by drawing out the poison with their mouths; but you, most illustrious guardian of orphans, heal those who are vexed by poverty and diseases—as though poisoned by more savage beasts—in a more wonderful way, drawing out the poison with your mouth. For your mouth commands that such a person among the needy be fed, and at the same time, the poison of sorrow and poverty is drawn from his heart. ^B But these are your good deeds toward others, such that one may judge the fabric from the hem. Yet who am I, O you who are possessed by the word, and of what graces am I a partaker, that I should dare to speak of my own misery to you, whether at the holy tribunal or in the royal palace itself? Cease, I beseech you, cease from your scrutiny. You diminish your tongue, turning it toward trivial and low-leaning things, it which is worthy to thunder with John and to trumpet with Paul. You wrong your own word, casting down to the ground among us that which is lofty and ethereal. None of your praises or hymns is worthy, unless it be offered only to God the Almighty and the emperor who is established as sovereign. Speak of these, and trumpet these, and you shall honor with praise and be honored in return. As for us, let either no one at all, or perhaps some wretched poets and orators, sing our praises. Or rather, by praising us who are of no account, you are proving your own rhetorical power from this event.

III. — Epistle of the same to the Logothete, the lord Stephen Meletes.

Then tell me of Hymettus, and count the Sirens, and set forth the Theban lyre, and the cithara of Arion—all of which will be judged altogether less pleasant and sweet if compared with this one epistle of yours. For how great—by that sun which excels the other stars—is the overflowing pleasure sprinkled upon it! How the mind is rapt and lifted up to God by such lofty contemplation! How the Attic style flourishes in it! Not so did Myron cast in bronze, not so did Phidias paint, not so did Architeles polish. The one completed the statue, the other the image, the other the column, very skillfully and rhythmically, just as you, O divine head, fashion the statue of the word. But I erred in calling what you write a "statue." ^D For a statue, fashioned only in its external parts, has nothing that touches the soul. Here alone nature conquers art; for those things which are written by you have a body that is beautiful in its external appearance, and a soul well-disposed within it responds to it. Thus have we been captured by your brief syllables, O greatest soul; thus have we been enslaved by your few words; thus, bound by our ears, have we been drawn by this sweet attraction and bond. But do not cease, and continue to bind and draw us with your golden cord of letters. For you rather set us free if you bind us in this way, and by drawing us thus, you make us more steadfast.

IV. — To the Same. To the Orphanotrophos and Nomophylax, concerning the plague that has laid hold of us.

From the belly of hell—this is that prophetic word—we too, Master, breathe out these few syllables to you, not as men of three days like Jonas, groaning in this prison, for we are no typos of Christ as he was; nor, indeed, like men of four days, like Lazarus, for we are not friends of Christ as he was. Rather, we are in our sixth day of the interval which we have passed so far; what is to follow, He who descended into hell and returned from there knows. For the present, we whisper in a weak and thin voice—such as it is fitting for one speaking from hell to have—hindered even by difficulty in breathing. For yesterday and shortly before this, when we ourselves were ascending the mountain, entering the cloud, and standing face to face before you, and rendering the service of intercession that was due, we were all, like Moses, beholders of God, needing little more than a veil over our form, so that we might not, by being seen by you, disturb the vision of those who were looking. But now, having fallen from that vision of God, and having become far from the cloud, and along with the entirely uninitiated, hearing only a voice—and that a small and passing one—we too need a veil over our form; not, however, that we might restrain the radiance of that prior vision, but that we might cover our shame. We rightly, therefore, use these letters to proclaim to you how much this plague, which has laid hold of us for our misfortune—a plague which men have been accustomed to call by ^A a euphemism, so that it might become more tolerable to those who are suffering, just as men of the medical profession, to be sure, bestow a sacred name even on the most poisonous of drugs, call white-hot iron "cold," and name the bone around the seat "sacred"—has affected us.

For I, hearing that Moses brought the seventh plague upon Egypt, which was fire together with hail, was astonished at the matter and could not easily assent to the account. For I said, "How, O nature and order of the universe, did the fire not dissolve the hail into water with its own heat, just as we see it affecting ice, nor did the hail quench the power of the fire with its own moisture?" This very thing, which until now I nearly disbelieved, I observe acting upon my own flesh. For my body is pelted with hail from head to toe, with these hailstones that are ill-euphemized; for I rightly call these "hail," both for their color, since they have turned white, and for their shape, since they have become rounded out. And it is completely inflamed with those extraordinary blasts that come from fever. And neither does the fire dissolve the hail, as it ought to do, nor do they quench it. We stand, Master, in the midst of such an evil and at the height of such a passion; and, what is greater, we are anxious about those who are to come and strike our hearts. Who, then, after God, will be our helper and defender, if not the prayer of your holiness? Farewell.

^A

V. — Of the same to the same.

When shall I come, divine master, and be seen by your face? When shall I mix for you a cup of tears and laughter? Having been seen as branded in my appearance, and completely marked up, just as we see common laborers and blacksmiths with their faces stained by soot, or, if you will, like snakes casting their slkins and scaled, though free of their poison—or, according to the flock of Jacob, spotted and speckled—with my head shaved bare, and absolutely hairless, and instead of that ambrosial and golden-maned head, carrying a weak head upon my neck, and having Elisha and Paul upon my head, apart from their prophecy and apostleship. When shall I disclose to you, through these very lips, the injustice of this disease? For I, beyond the other evils of this accursed plague, as many as were already present and as many as lay in anticipation, well-nigh exhaled my very soul away to the malady, being comforted by this one thing only: that the disaster might touch my huge and bushy beard. For this reason, I spoke much to myself: "O wretched one, ^B how unfortunate is this deformity of your visage, the loss of your sacred hair, this unattractive, unapproachable state—an abomination to behold, even to your dearest ones, on unpropitious days! But self-sufficient is the compensation for all these things, that truly the disease spared my beard." ^C For from now on you lay aside the burden, and you prepare the grease; and instead of a more panicky state, a more human one has appeared. I was saying these things, and at the same time measuring my chin with my fingers. And since it had swollen up entirely, and was inflamed—not that I might become pleased—I was almost sacrificing thank-offerings to the affliction, and calling the disease my savior; and especially because a certain Syrian old woman, a midwife and barley-diviner, confirmed my speech, swearing by the moon herself that not even a single hair would be left on my chin. But I was mistaken, the fool that I am, in trusting that a disease naturally inclined to decay might be improved. ^D For my hairs, for the most part, had fallen off, and, as in autumn, the head has been stripped of its proper ornament; but the beard, as in the prime of spring, has flourished, and according to the gardens of Alcinous, bearing an ageless bloom, it does not prosper, nor does it bear pear upon pear, nor fig upon fig, but hair upon hair, thick ones upon thick ones, and beard upon beard. Who, then, tell me, is more miserable than I, divine master? Whose head is a wilderness, but whose chin is a thicket? It seems so. And I have gone through these things, not as one just in accusing myself in a preamble, but, just as the most renowned of generals, while winning, they themselves strike down the enemy, but if defeated, they are slain by them, ^D so that [their] dearest friends, as if they were ill-omened things, avert their eyes from seeing them. But all these things are sufficiently compensated, because the exsecrable disease spared the beard; you even lay aside the remaining weight and take away the filth, and for a human appearance you now resemble one more. I said this and at the same time measured my chin with my fingers. But as it swelled up, and swelled up again, there was nothing new but to rejoice; it lacked little for me to offer thank-offerings for the disease, and I called the disease my health; especially since a certain Syrian midwife and prophetess bore witness, swearing by the moon, that not even one hair would be removed from my cheeks. For I, being mad, did not know how the matter stood, and I believed it to be a good thing that the nature of the disease brought an evil: the hair fell out entirely; and the head, like in autumn, lacks its proper ornament. The beard, however, as in a broad spring, flourished and, like the flowers of the gardens of Alcinous, devoid of old age, it never ceases to sprout (though not prosperously), not producing pear upon pear, nor fig upon fig, but thickening hairs upon hairs, and adding stench to stench. Who then, tell me, divine master, is more miserable than I, whose head is like a pestle, but whose chin is like a thicket? And these things...

not stay, but by thrusting their own swords into their vitals, or by driving them in some other way into their bodies, they become their own executioners, ^A not allowing a hostile hand to have the glory of cutting off their heads—such as were Cato, and Brutus, and Cassius. And so I myself, as long as my body was in good state, and my hair was neatly arranged, and my beard—not in a philosopher's fashion, but moderately—was grown, I used to pour scorn on those who were unfortunate in these respects; for there is no bald man who, on seeing me, did not straightway grow dizzy, and there is no one with a thick beard who, having chanced upon me, did not pray to be swallowed by the earth. But now, that the lot of my deformity has been cast upon me, not waiting for the backbiting and insults of others, I myself set myself up as my own accuser, and offer myself to those who wish to indulge in my ridicule. And yet I know that Synesius adorned his baldness with praises, and I am not unaware that Julian, his own contemporary, under the guise of blame, honored his beard. Why have you laughed at this? Because you are capable of laughter, as it were, at the writing. For we too, (9) not far from philosophy, have adjusted these things, so that, by ^B exhausting on the letters the power of the laughter, you might laugh with less vehemence at us ourselves. Farewell.

VI.—To the Metropolitan of Trebizond

Who I am and whose [servant], my holy and divine master, that I should be deemed worthy of your memory and of your salutations—having received them—those salutations, holy as the inscriptions at Delphi and the Pythian [oracle], and golden as the verses called the "Golden Verses" of Pythagoras; more musical than those which the myths describe as the Sirens'; sweeter than honey, in the words of the Psalm, and than the honeycomb—yet the honey is Hymettian, but the honeycomb is Trapezuntine. Indeed, the moderation that grew up with you, and the kindness that grew up with you and is now aging with you, have compelled the consideration of your letter to reach even to us. To you, therefore, I owe much, and [I owe] the credit for thousands of other things ^C and for these as well. But Trebizond, the most fortunate of cities, why, through your hand, has she sent me her gold coins? Is she plotting a truce with me through these? I will not make a truce (12) with her, not even in (13) Hades; let all the stars know this, and the king of the stars, the sun; not if she should bring me whole bricks of gold, as they say Croesus did to the Pythian. For having plundered my treasure, my only sweetest consolation in the straits that befall me—the pleasant [thought of] seeing and speaking to a man of Trebizond—does she, as if out of repentance, craft these fig-leaf comforts for my misfortune? It is similar to if someone, after plucking out both my eyes or knocking out my teeth, should then wish to share bread and salt with me. What do I [care for] your ^D

^A lamps and your waxes, O most unjust of cities, Trapezous? I seek to behold my own sun; for those were invented as a remedy for night and darkness, but this one is the producer of the whole day. What have I to do with your staters and your gold coins? I seek my own treasure. These are but the belchings of an afflicted soul and the evaporations of the flame within my heart. Yet you, O divine Power, having taken pity on that long-standing calamity, have sent to me your own shepherd, who shall shepherd your people in meekness and righteousness.

But these things, O most divine master, I have thus both prayed for and believed to be so, as a grateful son or a thankful disciple might pray on behalf of a father and teacher. As for my own affairs, why should I stir up Camarina for you? Why should I recite the Iliad and fill your joyful and radiant soul with much unpleasantness? For my affairs regarding fortune are the same now as they were before; and as for how they were before, I think you remember. For fortune has never smiled upon us, nor has it relaxed its furrowed brow. Furthermore, it drags me along with evil ^B throughout my whole body, as it says of Job, the man of Ausitis, "God has struck me." For I have fallen—alas!—into a plague that is most shameful to behold and most wretched to suffer, from which, were I to tell of all the great and terrible things that have befallen me, [I would have to say]: For three days all sorts of horrendous flames held me, and lightning bolts of fire consumed me throughout; there followed such a vomiting that I feared that I would immediately pour out my whole soul, and afterward, like the deer, be left without bile. The disease was aggravated by an unskilled physician who in stature was but a little removed from the Democritean atoms or a geometric point; he spoke much nonsense, quarreled over the [pulse], and, handling me with his miserable hand while being a nuisance, he reached such a level of incompetence in his diagnosis of the condition that he called my plague a double tertian fever. Such are the physicians who attend the noble Byzantines. But may you, O all-seeing eyes of God and providential Care, look upon them! ^C The fourth day dawned after these things, and there simultaneously arose upon the surface of my flesh small and reddish swellings, which, growing little by little over time, became, by the seventh day, fatal pustules. Have you ever seen, when a violent rain falls into a marsh, how its entire surface swells up with thick bubbles? Imagine that my own wretched flesh became just so at that time. For the fastings and sleeplessness that followed these, and the [inability] to turn here or there [without pain], and the arrows... ^D

^A of the pine, [and the summit of grief (22), the...] how should I not be diminished from the worthiness of the matter? For [the letter] itself was the dew of Hermon acting as if it were descending upon the mountains of Zion, and a remedy (28), and ambrosia, and nectar, and a trickle of honey, or what they call the tongue of the Pylian, and the gardens of Alcinous, and the Elysian field. One thing alone in this cut off much of my pleasure and deprived me of a great part of my joy: that your sacred hands did not serve the writing, so that I might see your soul as in a mirror in the letters. But now, in truth, the voice that produced it (29) is the voice of Jacob, your faultless, sincere, and holy voice; but the hands that wrote it are the hands of Esau—I am not sure whose [they are], yet certainly [the hands] of a man who knows far better how to hunt than how to write. To this very thing, then, [the words] of the Apostle apply, "We have our treasure in ^B earthen vessels," not in letters. But why did my soul choose to speak these things to a friend, and let itself be drawn into extending the letter beyond [the limits of] a letter? Hail to me, most holy master, and may you return to us with your joy entirely restored (31). Farewell.

VII. Of the same. Concerning the tongue of the orphanotrophos and guardian of the laws, Lord Alexios Aristenos.

The discourse is concerning the tongue of the guardian of the laws. But, alas for the boldness! ^C, that I, who bear a tongue so thick and leathery, should dare to speak of such a tongue; I do not know... ^D I, who bear a golden feather... [index: entries preserved]

^A of any other praise than this, the present one might perhaps be fitted. I attempt to speak of such a thing; and I hasten to sing of the golden [tongue] with a leaden one, and with one that is humble and speaks from the earth, I hasten to sing of that which is high and ethereal. And if even Homer himself, with all ten tongues, could scarcely celebrate this, I come to celebrate it with one, and that one neither perfect nor sound. It is like as if Thersites were to write a panegyric for Nereus or Achilles, or some Seriphian man were to sing the praises of the most excellent in Athens, or Phalaris were to move a vote for Aristides, or Demophilus were to honor Orpheus and the Muses, ^B he to whom such a lack of taste is attributed that even these elegiac verses were composed about him: "The night-owl sings a death-bearing song. But if ever Demophilus sings, the night-owl itself dies." (32) I ought, therefore, for these reasons, (33) having placed an ox upon my tongue, to abandon the speech concerning the tongue of the nomophylax, which breathes forth the might of fire. But since it seems best to us to consider the testimonies of adversaries as more trustworthy for the argument, inasmuch as they have no need to steal the truth out of favor, and we have learned that those things which are opposed are far distant from one another, and, as they say, the borders of the Phrygians (34) and the Mysians are far removed ^C from our own tongue, which is set before the argument for praise; and since... in any other way, the present praise might be suited. But in another respect, the example of Achar, which I hear of from sacred history, frightens me, on account of his having stolen and hidden a golden tongue, to be found in the stone-heaps of the plunderers. (35) And a fear not ignoble comes over me from this, lest I myself, like the earth, by hiding your golden tongue in silence, O orphan-keeper, should be justly stoned with reproaches.

Every human tongue, then, is the most excellent and supreme of the remaining parts of man; not only because it has been organized by the creating nature ^D well and most excellently, nor because it is tempered proportionately with the inward and elemental humors—in that it is also a judge of things outside and of nourishment—but because it has been established as a servant of the reason within us, and is a messenger of the movements of the mind; and through it, we humans have received the ability to be rational in act, (36) and we lead a life that is ordered and well-regulated. For by means of nothing else but this is counsel established, and justice instituted, and the state formed, and—moreover—learning practiced, and science organized, and what must be done and what must not be done by men is known. By means of this, dialecticians conclude from accepted premises regarding everything proposed, orators deliver public speeches, and ambassadors... [index: entries preserved]

^A ensure the preservation of their homelands. Through this, Solon walled in Athens with laws, Zaleucus did so for Locris, Charondas for Italy and Sicily, and others for other cities. The Egyptians discovered and taught geometry; the Carians, the prognostication through the stars; the Phrygians, augury; and the Telmessians, being the first among others to know it, introduced the interpretation of dreams. Apis the Egyptian taught medicine; Alcmaeon, son of Pirithous, taught physiology; and Apollodorus of Cyzicus taught grammar. Pythagoras, son of Mnesarchus, introduced what is called the Italic philosophy. Thales, whether Phoenician or Milesian—for his lineage is disputed—taught the Ionian school to Anaximenes, son of Eustratus; and Xenophanes of Colophon taught the Eleatic school ^B to Parmenides. And, lest I gather praise for the tongue from far away and from matters not our own: through the tongue we hymn the Divine, and we assimilate ourselves, as much as is possible, to the angels, for whom the divine hymnody is a work at once unfulfilled and insatiable. Every human tongue, therefore, as I said, simply sits royally above the rest of his members, inasmuch as it is organically subservient to that most excellent thing within the soul: the Reason. But your divine and holy tongue, O wise guardian of the laws, stands above the tongues of other men just as that [human tongue] has risen above the tongues of unreasoning animals. For if, as must be believed, Paul is to be believed—and if, as must be believed, God Himself is to be believed, for He is called and is believed to be the mouth of Paul—then your tongue ^C would be of such a nature that it is as far above the rest of the intellectual octad as the Seraphim themselves. It is a bold statement: if God had a tongue, one that would certainly surpass the human, I would say that yours is a divine tongue. But since this is not consonant with reason and experience, I call it the pen of a ready scribe, borrowing the name from David; and the dew of Hermon that descends upon the mountains of Zion, taking this also from the same Prophet; and a land flowing with milk and honey, to a degree far greater than the Palestine described by the history of Moses; and a holy river, drawing a great and golden current, like the Pactolus near Sardis, and which gladdens the city of God with its streams; and whatever else beautiful and precious men have recorded in their histories.

Greece admired the tongue of Dio and rightly called it golden; it also admired the eloquence of Demosthenes and the Peripatetic address of Aristotle, ^D even despite their stammering. But that I may pass over the ancient and turn to the recent, the emperors of our own day also greatly valued the tongue of the Byzantines, which, while speaking in the Attic style, stammered. But your holy tongue, O hieromnemon, which reflects entirely and without the simplicity of childhood the tongue of Dio—golden as it is—and the un-stammering tongue of Demosthenes, and that of Aristotle, and the Byzantine tongue without the stammering, who would not call it divine rather than human?

^A Sweet is the Tyrrhenian tongue, which first invented the trumpet; beautiful, too, is that of the Phrygian, which first played the flute; and that of the Assyrians, which devised the two-stringed lyre; and that of the Mysians, which discovered the Lydian harmony; and the Sicilian, which found the lyre; and the Milesian, which discovered the cithara—not to mention the hymns of Stesichorus, and the choral songs of Himera, and the dances of Anacreon, which I pass over in my speech. But all these are as nothing when compared to the tongue of the *nomophylax* [keeper of the law]. Bring me Hymettus, and I will set against it this tongue, which pours forth words sweeter than honey and the honeycomb. Name me the Sirens, and I will name to you this same tongue, which enslaves not only an Odysseus, but all who are skilled in wisdom with its song. Tell me of the Theban lyre, through which you build the Seven-Gated city, and I will tell you of that which builds not the Seven-Gated, but the Hundred-Gated city—Byzantium. ^B Reckon up the flutes of Olympus, and the cithara of Timotheus and Arion, and the Mixolydian harmony of Marsyas, and the Dorian mode of Thamyris; and it will suffice for me, against all these, to cite the natural music of the tongue being praised. Now, the Lycian Proclus is of the opinion that souls adapt themselves to tongues, and thus bring their own innermost nature into the light. But for me, there is no leisure at the moment to inquire into the truth or falsehood of this doctrine. Yet, if the discourse will for now be granted that it is true, to what other tongue, if not to this one of which we speak, would the souls of famous men—of Orpheus, of Homer, ^C or of Plato—be likened, in order for them to be seen clearly, or at any rate to this one before us? What do you say? You count for me the nine Muses, man, and you measure out the three Graces; and do you not see ten thousand times as many, both these and those, playing and dancing around the tongue of the *nomophylax*? And if the Lord also gives a tongue of wisdom and learning, as Isaiah says, to whom would he give it if not to the wise *hieromnemon*? And if the tongue of the just shall meditate judgment, according to the musical Prophet and King, what other tongue shall meditate this, or has meditated it? And if, according to the proverb, “the tongue of the wise is as silver refined by fire,” what tongue possesses more silver than that of the orphan-master? And if rhapsody also honors a tongue—one that is indeed rare, but speaks very sweetly—how shall we not highly honor the one before us, which brings forth many things, ^D and at the same time, concurrently, brings them forth sweetly? And if the same tongue has brought wonder to the Pylian elder, and is declared to flow with a voice sweeter than honey from his lips, how should we not say that from the one being praised there spring not only words, but things sweeter than nectar and ambrosia themselves? For a sublime mind is a beautiful thing, which of itself, through its own speculation, ventures upon the naked facts, and is naturally inclined to beget other things upon others, just as they report concerning the hares. But it is not only…

a tongue that is nimble and fleet, but it carries ^A a tongue as a handmaid to that noble intellect; thundering indeed, and often moving like the current of the Euripus, and is a noble midwife of the intellectual offspring. And, at any rate, that man seems to me the best of all who has been blessed by God with both. For he who possesses the one but is lacking in the other, would find his good only half-fulfilled. For neither did that Methymnaean, he of the lyre, soothe the dolphin without his lyre, and then ride upon its back; nor did the lyre effect this without him. For it is by the help of instruments that the arts bring forth their operations. I do not praise this part of the *Stromata* (44), where it says that one should never seek eloquence or the nobility of words, but be content solely with hinting at what is intended. For, in that case, the leek-seller and the philosopher would be indifferent. I myself would not have deemed a tongue worthy of even the most commonplace discourse if we were living with naked souls, having ascended above this clay to which ^B this yoke-fellow is joined. But since this drag-net of the body—this organic statue, I say—has been fashioned around our souls, and it is not permitted for the movements of the mind to be manifested to us directly, I do not believe we ought to deem the tongue as second in honor. And if these things are so, he who is truly the most divine among men—who is enriched with both a noble mind and a musical tongue—who could be more divine than our Orphanotrophos? He who has been allotted an intellectual power that is truly heroic, and not ape-like, as is the fashion of some recently; and [one] that is worthy ^C not of a bull's hide, like Salmoneus thundering back against Zeus, but [one] that emits a thunder at once sacred and sweet, so that it may thunder, yet not strike down with thunder; and of fiery flashes, not like the father Zeus from the clouds, setting things on fire, so that it may flash, yet not consume! But I have called this tongue fire-bearing, and at the same time I was reminded of those fiery tongues, in the likeness of which the Holy Spirit descended upon those Peters and those Andrews, and I confidently count it as a thirteenth tongue in addition to the twelve—if it be more than this, grant indulgence, O great heralds of the Word, because it is filled with equal grace and yet also with the Attic Muse. And while some call the impulse of fire tireless, and to others the chariot of the sun is called tireless, as it makes the end of one cycle the beginning of another, and thus measuring time and changing the seasons, and becoming a salvation for life; to me, the best tongue—the tongue of Aristenus—is tireless and superior even to fire and the sun. For how many forensic complexities it unravels! How many knots of violent transactions it unbinds, through the power of writing! And how many involutions of public speeches it unrolls, and stands again fresh and newly sharpened, borrowing the power of the word from the other tongues of the council, as indeed the moon borrows its light from the sun! Therefore, this indeed is our ^D most strategic man.

[Latin column translation:] ...bestial, of which we see many examples even today, has been allotted, aided by an excellent tongue, and [one] that thunders, not indeed in the manner of Salmoneus, who presumed to be equal to Jove, but as one who emits a sacred and harmless thunder upon the earth, and who lightens not from the clouds, as Jupiter, but in such a way that nothing is consumed by fire. Calling his tongue fiery, I at the same time made mention of the fiery tongues under the appearance of which the Holy Spirit appeared to the apostles Peter and Andrew, and I number it as the thirteenth among the other twelve, which—give pardon, heralds of the great Word—differs in that it savors of the Attic Muse as well, beyond the spiritual grace. For if they claim that fire is incessantly in others, and that the chariot of the sun is indefatigable, inasmuch as it is continually turned around the globe measuring the year and the hours for the salvation of mortals, I affirm that the tongue of Aristenus is superior to fire and the sun itself, inasmuch as it solves the knots of very many difficulties, and explains the places of Holy Scripture which are most difficult to understand; the problems of orators it clarifies, and it always appears new, while it also... [index: entries preserved]

^A authorizes the emperor to task the guardians of the laws of the state to keep it; so that while they guard our life, it may guard them in return with much greater steadfastness; and thus, through the midst of the laws, it may don the government of all and carry it. But, O divine and sacred tongue, image of the Muses, ornament of the Graces! O voice of one crying, whose sound has gone forth into all the earth, and whose words have been explained to the ends of the world, which the senate and the clerical tribunal have justly divided between themselves, as if from thence also the tongue of the philosophers might be trusted, assuming a dual nature just like the remaining organic parts of man; O you who by your presence instill voice into these tribunals, but by your absence leave them in the deepest silence; forgive my boldness, and accept my ^B zeal, if, while you are greeting me with such and so rich streams of praise, I salute you in return with small drops, and those muddy and stagnant. For I have nothing else to say in my defense than that famous saying of Xenocrates: who, when he was dragged by the tax collectors, and was rescued by the orator Lycurgus, and afterwards met his children, said: "I pay a fair debt of gratitude to your father, O children, for all men praise him for what he has done (46)." For truly, O wise guardian of the law, the whole world—having become one tongue and one lip, according to the proverb—praises you for your kind deeds towards us, and prays for a long life for you.

VIII. By the same, an introductory speech to the same orphan-guardian and law-guardian, receiving the office of orphan-guardian for the second time.

Which should I sing to you first, O most divine master? The introductory song, or shall I sound the inaugural triumph, or shall I sing to myself a song that is not a farewell, nor a departure, but—since it is a saving one for me and for this house—a song of salvation? For let the blasphemous tongues be muzzled, and let the deceitful lips be made mute, which have spoken lawlessness against us; they who were ignorant of this one most crucial thing, and who failed to distinguish how great the difference is between a well-instructed and honest ear and one that lies open to slander.

(46) The things which Theodorus Prodromus narrates about Xenocrates are well known. However, Diogenes Laertius does not record this; his commentators also are silent, as is Menagius himself, and the authors of the History of Philosophy, ^D Stanley and Brucker. Plutarch relates it twice with some variation: 1° in the Life of Titus Quintius Flamininus (edit. Reisk. vol. II, p. 689) he speaks thus: ...rescued by the orator, and afterwards meeting his children: "I pay a fair debt of gratitude, dear children, to your father, whom all praise for what he has done." For surely the whole world, O most learned guardian of the laws, also lauds you for the benefits bestowed upon me, and, having become one tongue and one lip, prays for a long life for you. Turnebius brings a variant reading to the last two words. Photius (in Lycurgus, Cod. CCLXVIII, col. 1485) exhibits a third way of reading: But as for the philosopher of that time, when Lycurgus the orator rescued him [Xenocrates] from the tax collectors as he was being led away to the tax-registry, and imposed a penalty on those who were leading him for their insolence, it is said that he met the children of Lycurgus and said: "I pay a fair debt of gratitude to your father, O children; for all men praise him for what he has done." And when a tax collector had once laid hands on Xenocrates the philosopher, and was leading him away to the registry, Lycurgus met them, freed the philosopher, struck the head of the tax collector with his staff, as one who was acting with insolence against what is proper, and handed him over to dwell in the prison. And he obtained many praises for this action. Wherefore also, some days later, Xenocrates, meeting the children of Lycurgus, said: "Speedily, O children, have I paid the debt of gratitude to your father; for he is praised by many because he became a helper to me when I was being abused."

^A And whether I shall borrow the prelude from our own and simpler writing, and cry out to this house the peace thereof; or whether I shall shout from one not our own, and more elegant, "Hail, dwelling, and propylaea of the present hearth,"—would I not be senseless, and unworthy of the nurse philosophy, if, seeing the lame leaping like deer at the present events, and the tongue of the stammerers being made plain, I myself should halt in this part, and stammer? For it is reasonable that the feet should leap, and the tongue become plain, if anyone does. And how should I not, imitating the musical prophet and king in this part, dance before your entrance here, or return, just as he did before the ark that kept the holy things? For you are indeed an ark, and a guardian of the secret mysteries of God, having as a seven-branched lamp the soul ignited and shining, with the seven gifts of the Spirit—and tablets written by God, and observing those laws of His, and the mind that is the standard of the law, and not only keeping the laws of the state, but also the laws of God. For this reason, ^B rightfully, the most glorious emperor, who knows not only how to command most excellently, but also how to guard the laws, has appointed you a guardian of the law (nomophylax), and a sacred staff, the supporter of those who are wronged, and the suppressor of those who do wrong; these are indeed the two properties of the staff, whence the office of chief advocate is bestowed upon you; and a mystical table most prepared for the food of orphans and the distribution of bread, wherefore, among other things, you are also well-ordering the providence of an orphan-master. What say you, O image of words, to the words? Has not the Word shown you to be an ark, more recent, indeed, but more divine, as far as it was able? Has it not fitly bestowed upon your spiritual qualities the names of the virtues? I, for my part, think so, and perhaps I do not miss the mark. I seem to myself to hear the prophet again saying, "Every mountain and hill shall be humbled, and every valley shall be filled" (Isa. XL, 4); and I act the part of the valley that is being filled, and I trust that I shall also be, as the fullness increases with me in time. But come, stand around me, holy nation, members of Christ most precious and most blameless, even if you are stunted in your own bodies, and chant the songs of victory under me as the leader of the choir. I will provide for the speechless a clever tongue, and one not far from the laws of festive oratory; I will give to the handless a swift hand, one not ignoble and suggestive of things understood or spoken, and I will become everything to everyone according to my own and our Paul's [manner]. If there are among you children innocent of evil—and the students certainly are—let them too cry out to the One entering, and let them shout "Hosanna," and "Blessed is He who comes," or rather, has already come. Let a venerable woman from the crowd also lift her voice, and let her call blessed the womb that bore Him, and the breasts that nourished Him. Let some Zacchaeus also mount upon a height, and, fulfilling by the surplus of the place what is lacking in stature, let him catch sight of the One passing by. I call even the incurably opisthotonic to the festival, ^{C D}

^A that they may be thought to consecrate it through the vehemence of their suffering itself, since for them the neck, being stiffened by pain, seems to suggest this. And if there be anyone among those who are utterly paralyzed, let not even him be considered an alien to the festival: let him become a partaker of the feast, and let him sing a hymn of thanksgiving to Him who gathers bone to bone, and harmony to harmony, and grants the spirit of life to the withered. Let one be lowered through the roof to attain health, and let another be laid by the Sheep Pool, and even if he has no man, let him not despair of a cure; for He will not delay it, nor shall he be kept prostrate in his infirmity for thirty-eight years, but he shall be relieved of his illness by Him this very day. Let all smile, let all rejoice; let all join in exultation with those who are gladdened. Rejoice exceedingly, O daughter of Sion. Behold, thy King comes to thee, meek, and He has arrived, bringing salvation. For I call the present portion of the Queen-City "Sion," rightly, as it is the church of the first-born who are enrolled in heaven; thou hast Him who receives those who trust in thee, and who will satisfy thy poor with bread. Enlarge thy cords, make a way for the new people, and cast out the stones from the highway.

As for me, how I am disposed toward those present, and how I claim the feast for myself—with what argument and writing should I be represented? For I praise that fable that upbraids Prometheus, that he did not open windows after he had fashioned the breast of man, so that ^B we might examine one another’s states of mind. Would that my own statue were like this, and provided with windows! For you would have seen my soul content with the present state of things, and having nothing that might arise from pleasure. But now—well, these things pertain to the construction of houses, not the creation of man, and besides, the discourse is of those who are enslaved to the senses; but as for you, with your subtle and keen mind, you may examine through the mystical and secret windows the state of my soul, how I delight and take pleasure and desire to dance—this, indeed, is the stuff of comedy; not that we have introduced Plutus, as she desires, the one who is ready to be plundered and is blind, but rather one who is unplundered and great-eyed, and, as the rhapsodist would say, "ox-eyed." But what could one say concerning the priestly and senatorial rank in the divine temple here? For it did not even wait for the voice of the herald, but spontaneously rushed to the festival, and, having put on a noble shame, it is inspired for the matter, and revels with this solemn Bacchic revelry, and, established according to tribes and divisions, they exclaim praise to the One entering, and they strike the air with cries of thanksgiving, each striving to surpass the other in shouting. And, in short, if there were one mouth and one lip, according to Scripture, this most populous portion of Byzantium, now come to be, celebrates for itself these new births. It conquers in the present triumph the ancients and as many as the mother of words, Hellas, has to show in histories.

^A And as many as elder Rome brought forth, those over the Katos, those over the Caesars, those over the Bruti, and as many as Corinth sent over the Timoleons. For there, those who gathered together were rather competing in the theater, whereas here, the whole is drawn by the good. Therefore, even a certain hollow way of health is devised for the sick; and eagerness raises the dead; and longing compels diseases; and Lynceus is here, he who sees, and he who is without hand, Briareus; and he who is Hephaestus-footed, is sound of foot; and he who is most voiceless, is most voiced as Stentor.

Who, then, will not rejoice at these present things and praise the master of ceremonies of the festival? As for me, I pulse with desire to run through all the virtues of the man and to gather praise for him from everywhere. Yet I am checked by two things in this undertaking: for by the greatness of the pleasure, I am secretly deprived of the power of speech, and I know another invitation for the hymn. For there is, there is much in you for grandiloquence, greatest guardian of the laws, most just protector of causes, and most brilliant orphanotrophos, to have been born nobly, to have been reared not unworthily of the birth, and ^B to have been perfected to the praise of the rearing. For Grammar, having taken you up immediately from childhood, filled you with its own graces, and taught you to preside over poems and meters. Rhetoric, after this, kindled whole Attic firestorms in your tongue; as witnesses, those scorched by its onrush, and those illuminated by its superabundance. And Law, after this, gave you an edge; and Philosophy led you to virtue, and Philosophy brought you near to God.

But these are not for the present discourse, nor for the time. But that which is no less to the point, and indeed fits the festival most harmoniously, by mentioning this alone, I might show the lion from the claws to those who know how to perceive it in their minds. For since the whole authority among us is divided in two ^C and distributed into two tribunals, I mean the ecclesiastical and the royal, you alone of all have been allotted the duty of excelling in both. And one person patrols the palaces and manages the public affairs for the Emperor, but does not even know the sacred tribunal; and another is ordained, but is ignorant of the state. But you alone, of all others, both the Senate and the sacred tribunal have shared between them. For perhaps one part of the Roman dominion does not contain you, being as great as you are; but it is necessary for you to be both a canon for the Church, and a standard for the state, and a corner-stone binding together the parts of the Roman realm, and, to speak generally, a royal priesthood. For this reason, too, glorious Hellas had you as a greatest leader, and Byzantium, having received you back from there, divided you; and it has given one part of you to the tribunal, and has distributed the other to the state, and has divided what was indivisible, as one might say; and twice, as orphanotrophos, you are sent to us by the powerful emperor. Let him who sent you, therefore, rejoice, and let him continue to triumph over the Barbarians, severing in battle the heads of potentates, and dyeing his foot in the blood of foreigners. And let him who has been sent rejoice, and, while living and managing the authority, may he be preserved for us for a long time.

By the same, to the protecdikos and nomophylax, Lord Alexios Aristenos, who twice served as orphanotrophos

What say you, most brilliant orphanotrophos? What say you, arbiter of justice and of the law, From which you acquired your title? I first praised you in prose speech— If one ought to call my words "words," And not rather trifles and empty clatter of the tongue, Disturbing the ears with irksome pains, Born of a thoughtless heart. I sang you a second time in a labyrinthine Grammatical composition; For I learned to honor the wise proverb, "Twice the beautiful," and twice I sang your praises. Why, then, shall we stop halfway in these things, You who possess from God all that is better, Excelling in nature, rank, lineage, and eloquence, And [why] shall we conclude the hymn only in these [forms]? But where are the verses, and where the power of the meter, And the sweet beating of Calliope's art? Or does she seem to me to be justly vexed, And complaining, as if wronged, And unable to bear the scorn? For if both the nature of prose speech Came together to sing your praises, Yet she [Calliope] was condemned to utter silence, And cast out from the doors of the feast ^A Like a useless vessel, like an inconvenient burden. Moreover, how is the word of the Stagirite— You know the man, for he has fashioned you— Not to be respected and held in honor, When he says that three is the limit of all things? How, then, shall the third not befit the triple measure Of your worthy praises, Matched equally to the equal? And why does Paul, the mouth of my God, Not say to give thanks in all things? How then shall I not, O wise protecdikos, Give you thanks in every manner, In every meter, and in the weaving of every word? ^B Perhaps some will condemn me for this, And speak of it as a burden, and call me a babbler, As if I were making a theater of my words, And, with no one calling me, of my own accord Were wanting to weave dances and festivals. But "Hippoclides cares not" for these things, So long as he knows this is not for the sake of empty glory, But in a grateful manner. But look from here upon a new battle of verses; For every kind of meter has gathered here And wishes to share in the hymn in common. From here the iambic Calliope shall stand, From here the wise myth-writer, the heroine, ^C And everything in a circle. And whom shall I take first? Shall it be the Anacreontic? But these are contrary ^D

to the grace of iambics. Or the iambic? But the mouth of Homer will resound from the other side. And who could support his sonorous voice, without praying that the earth might suddenly gape open? Therefore, let the brilliant utterance of the heroine now celebrate the orphanotrophos; the other meter will suffice for the future.

By the same, on the same, in heroic meter

^A The temples, which he built solidly upon stone foundations, And those to whom he gave fresh vigor in their old age, And those to whom he sacrificed boundless talents— But this passed by the whole work of kings, Which, with prudent mind, O guardian of the law, he will perform concerning you, Alexius, Alexiades, having granted help to the lame, The heavy-breathing, and the squint-eyed. Therefore, the nation of men rejoiced at your arrival, And under the mule, he soaked his ailing foot, Rolling forward... of the sacred procession. And someone said, lifting his hands toward the sky: "Hail, royal trinity, greatly eminent, which granted my desire, And granted to my eyes to see The sweet discourse of Alexius Aristeniades." ^B

And as, when after the storm-tossed winter, which the shepherds Hate, seeing no longer the tender-colored [grass], Spring immediately follows, lush with grass, and among it men Rejoice, while it adorns the whole field with flowers; So, to all the throng who saw him coming, there was joy. The man with the speech impediment spoke, and the mute appeared with a voice; The lame man leaped like the swift-legged deer; And the old man rattled [the sistrum] while dancing the noble cordax. All the buildings shook (55), the clamor of the people rose, And the priests shouted out on the holy ground, Crying out shrilly, and inside the inner sanctum a boom Under the sacred booming, and the sound rose to the sky. As all species love good men, so they prattled, So they clapped hands together from every side. ^C But, O blessed one, may you traverse boundless cycles of life, Being a leader of others, and never leaving us.

To the same, on the same matters. Elegiacs.

^A If any man was a dispenser of justice among mortals, a plumb-line remaining steady on this side and that, and the most unshakeable bulwark of dear justice, it was not Minos the Cretan, nor Rhadamanthus, nor Aeacus the guide of the dead, nor Aristides the most just, as he was called by men, nor Solon. But the guardian of the law, Aristenus. If any man on earth was good, it is not Menelaus here, nor the son of Tydeus, nor the grizzled Nestor, nor the ruler of Ithaca, nor the Paeanian famous for his rhetorics, nor Phocion, nor Cato among them. But this guardian of the poor, Alexius, pleasantly speaking, pleasantly smiling, and pouring forth a myriad graces of tongue. Perhaps he bears the sweet story of the Siren, or perhaps sweet honey drips from his lips. Wherefore, ruling over new Rome, removing the malicious heart, he gave salvation to the nations, and fulfilling his duties to us, he taught justice and frugality. Hail, orphanotrophos, hail, guardian of the law!

To the same, on the same matters. Anacreontic.

Come, my soul, progenitor of the race, bring forth the Word, your son. Sing, my tongue; move, my hands; be stirred, my reed; be written, my page. ^B May a crown, the reward of eloquence, encircle your beautiful head, you whom nature has adorned with infinite charisms, whom the King of the earth loves before all others. From the holy atria of Pieria, come hither, Muse, daughter of Zeus. These tetrameter verses, guardian of the law, nurturer of the poor, the son of Prodromus presents to you; who indeed, appearing as one of the good, remaining aloof from the Graces, honors virtue for all his life, glorifies generosity, and shows a spirit grateful to all men. May he live many years, the father of orphans and guardian of the law!

To the same (56).

Yesterday, most godlike master, returning from your public and splendid procession—such as befits your magnificence—and having been with the holy and wise Metropolitan of Nicomedia, and having sensibly conversed with him, I was asked whence I came. And having spoken (although he seemed to discern the matter even before the questioning; for in my case, ^C my hair was still dripping with ointment, and my skin ^D emitted a sweet fragrance, as the Cheronean narrates of the Macedonian (57), and my garment was full of the marks of waxen drops), I have the things that were mandated by his holiness. But how...

could the fiery utterances of that brilliant tongue be conveyed through my own inadequate language? ^B Yet he might be informed in your authority, so that he, too, might not be left out of the assembly; for he would encounter it, and would discharge the duty both to you and to the Saint. Seeing, however, that the senate had gathered in such great numbers, and that not only was no throne left empty, but not even a footstool, and further, that the people had broken in,

“Like buzzing swarms of bees,”

X. — Epistle of the same to Theodore.

Would that, my brother and dear soul Theodore, with you face to face, I could once again be standing or even sitting and inquiring of you about your affairs, and teaching you my own in return. But if a separation was destined by necessity to come between us, would that I had surpassed this clay which we both carry as yoke-fellows, and, living as a naked soul, ^D and being lightened by the wings of the mind, I had been—according to that which is sung in the Psalm—carried off, and had found rest beside you! But since nature has adapted this tabernacle and clay statue, and it is not, to the bodily man, a matter of evil (sic), and it is not permitted to living creatures who, to walk the earth, must by nature’s necessity go on foot, to super-traverse the earth—yet to cut through the air with a light wing and be beside one’s dearest—we are compelled by necessity to choose this second course, and we entrust our greetings and our conversation to ink and paper. Truly this is the remedy for absence devised by the wise for friends. I seem to myself now, as if sent to you by the wing of some paper, to be demanding, to be preaching in public, to be calculating accounts; and with some you bid me act gently, while with others, regarding taxes, to act harshly. There are those whom you bid to be dragged by force into court.

and beaten upon the neck and struck upon the ears. ^A Such are the penalties of the tax assessments for the poor. But you, by the nurse of wisdom, should not breathe out a heavy, storm-like wind upon the needy. Rather, breathe upon them gently and softly like a breeze, and flutter back toward us with the same wing. By all means, you will find them seated over their books, and now coming across Aristotle or Plato, and now bringing something of their own home-grown wisdom to the stage of discourse; and now at a loss, and now solving the things that were at a loss; and now composing poetry, and now prose. And there are some of those associated with you whom you are ushering into the rules of rhetoric, and some whom you are initiating into the secrets of philosophy. ^B You remember, I know, the holy assembly and the teacher's tongue, and the gathering of fellow-speakers and fellow-philosophers, who also yearn for you, being separated and increasing the distress for the teacher. Good Constantinus is all but weeping, and there is not as much as he longs to be sent to you; but he is held back by you, until you yourself give the signal. Give it quickly, for you will not receive an ungracious friend by acting graciously yourself. Farewell.

XI.—From the same to the same

That is precisely what happened to me, friend Theodore, to think and to say regarding you—that which was said of old by the ancient sages concerning health, that it is a most divine thing, which is ignored when it is present, but is grasped when it is absent. ^C This is the very case with you: for when you were present with us and spending your time in our company and giving and receiving the duties due to friends, you did not provide much awareness of yourself; but having now traveled abroad and moved far away, you have provided, as is usually the case, the opportunity for observation. We have recognized from our loss what kind of man you were—a treasure that we possessed but did not recognize. For from here on, our affairs are inconsolable and irreparable, and there is no one who visits in the morning or comes in the evening to us, with whom we might kindle the coals of our heart and with whom we might share what is unspoken to others. What, then, will be the resolution to these things, and how, and from where, if we do not write to one another and respond more frequently? ^D And for our part, look, this second letter has been drafted for you, but from you not even a half-letter. Yet, by our friend, I am at a loss and cannot grasp the cause, unless perhaps you are delaying, wisely managing to mix gifts with the letter; though even this has not escaped me. Letters have gone to others, and the term "lamb-Bacchus" or "pig-Bacchus" was named for us from the matter. But let this serve you as an occasion for a smile.

But good Constantinus is hastening to come to you, and although he causes us trouble by this, let him rejoice in the fruit of his haste. For by coming, he will take away your sorrows and remind you of the letters to us—not that you yourself would not be mindful of these, but you know that Homeric line: "When two go together, even one before the other discerns." Farewell.

XII. — To Lyzicus.

Philosophy, most illustrious Lyzicus, does not appear to have reared you well as a pupil, if you were destined so quickly to forget your mother and others—whom I know not whether to call kin or housemates—and even to despise all the Prodromi, from whom you have often received manifest proofs of friendship. Yet, that saying of the Prienian was well spoken: "Office will reveal the man." For because of this office—the extent and magnitude of which I do not even know—you did not deign us worthy of a single line of writing; and rightly so. For one who has despised discourse and letters, and has exchanged the nursing care of philosophy for the turmoil of affairs—and that, as the most wise Italicus would say, for trifles and lighter things—how could he write to one concerned with discourse and letters? ^B Yet, though you may cast aside your name of Lyzicus and become for me a faithless friend, I, at least, do not cast aside my own name of Prodromus. I run ahead, therefore, and write this letter to you first. If, then, you have anything to write, exchange letters for letters; if you have not, accept letters in place of business, exchanging brass for gold. Farewell.

XIII. — The same to the same.

Alas, alas, Lyzicus, from what intimacy and union has cruel fate torn us apart! For of old—and not so very long ago—we were shaped by the same masters of eloquence, instructed in the same precepts, and mutually instilling philosophy into one another’s mouths, ^C as if we were being-born from one womb—oh, the wonder!—how great was the love we nourished for one another! It wanted but little to verge on madness; we were even indignant that we were not born of one and the same mother. Such were things then; but what are they now? You indeed open a school and erect a throne, and you write divine orations to be delivered in public; one garment you wear that is splendid, another, delicate, you bury in a chest; you display fat mules, and you show off harness studded with great amounts of silver, some as if in a theater, while others ^D you contrive to be of even greater weight; and your table is most lavish. Your body drips continually with lotions to cleanse it, while ours is parched, and we travel on foot. Why do you knit your brow in these matters, thinking great things of yourself and looking down upon our humility? We too have that in which we may boast: the Peripatus, the Academy, the oracles of philosophical books, and those which we have admired, being parts of the ancients, and which we ourselves, laboring, have brought to light. We have for the gravity of discourse Plato the theologian, Aristotle the natural philosopher, and Italicus as teacher and writer. I too have a tribunal, far more venerable than yours, in that you are occupied with the affairs of barbarians and for the most part discourse to barbarians. Mine is perfected by the most approved of philosophers, and it tracks the causes of things. Why do you knit your brow? You recall, I suppose, those exercises in philosophy, and you desire, I think, those graver studies and the former practice; would that the deed might correspond to the desire. Farewell.

XIV. — To the Same Mytas

XV. — To the Same

XVI. — To the Same

^A a human mode of reasoning and the daily burden of royal affairs, and yet you insert into your writings such lofty sentiments and such Attically-wrought language, as if you had dedicated your entire life solely to books. I, for my part, think—and perhaps I do not think far from the truth—that it was absolutely necessary for the present days to bring forth some new nature into life, and indeed it has brought forth you, the most excellent in both words and deeds, so that your nature might pass on to your noble sons, as if by some hereditary right, so that they might preserve the one who gave them birth, not so much by physical likenesses as by their spiritual qualities. Farewell.

XVII. By the same, to Gregory, monk and abbot of the venerable monastery of the Bulgarians on the island of Oxia, when our most holy master came to the island from the patriarchate after his illness and resignation.

Woe is me, divine and wise Father and great protector Gregory, for a holy man has failed us, or rather not one but two have failed us at the same time. Woe is me! For salvation is far from sinners; woe is me, for we have returned to our original state. Whither do you go, fleeing far away, and in what wilderness do you choose to dwell? Leaving your Prodromus ^B destitute of help! You brought a vine out of Egypt, my soul, out of sin, and you planted it in the land of promise, and with the hedge of your teachings, o sun, you fenced it about on every side. Why has this been left to me now, and why does the wild boar out of the wood ravage it? And why do you not look down from heaven upon your island, and why do you not perfect this vine which your right hand planted? I am a Philippian, I ^C am a Corinthian, a Galatian, an Ephesian; through Paul I approached, through Paul I have believed, and now I cannot enjoy the sight of Paul. Why not? Even if I cannot enjoy Paul’s letters. But let us imitate our God and King Jesus, who, while eternally resting in the Father’s bosom in the heavens, yet descended later to the earth, and after dwelling a few days, returned from the earth again to the heavens. So you also, descend from the heaven of your island to us, so that you may be among us; and once you have spent a ^D little time looking after our affairs here, fly back again to your heaven. I have nothing further to add; nor have I anything to compare to Christ’s example, who was here for forty days and a little more. After the ascension of the first Paraclete, there is no other Paraclete for us. Would that from the same heaven a second Paraclete might fly down after the first, and taking from there, might announce to me the things of salvation and make me fit to speak with a tongue of fire. But these things shall happen when it is pleasing to God. As for the present state of affairs, we are disheartened, or rather we are bereft of soul, most wise soul, as daily we remember your words and your love. Before God and the angels, we testify to the whole world of their loss. Yet we struggle with ungrateful tongues. It is a matter that any prudent man would consider entirely hopeless. This is the first and

^A last of the great Church we are deprived of, sparing their own life and salvation, so that we may not, by seeing those places trodden by your holy feet, be drained of our soul along with our memories. I worship the traces of the holy feet of my most holy master, ^B and of the benefactor, and I kiss the holy garment, and I apply the edge of the mantle to my eyes for sanctification, and I pray for this before all things: that, after God, I may entrust my final breath to your right hand. The servant and child of your holy prayers, Theodore.

BY THE SAME

ON THOSE WHO BLASPHEME PROVIDENCE ON ACCOUNT OF POVERTY.

^A For by what Providence is the whole mass of the heaven governed? By what Providence is the deviation in our life directed and brought into order? What other planter of the elements within us brings the four-fold nature into the smooth path of its course; and by what other rudders is the vessel of the cosmos steered?

These things it was reasonable to think upon daily concerning Providence, and to persuade ourselves therewith. But we have had our souls so corrupted by the love of money that, if we do not reap that golden harvest daily, and if we do not possess whole Pactoluses pouring their wealth in upon us, we do not believe that there is any Providence at all. Instead, we are always mouthing the line from the tragedy: "Fortune directs the affairs of mortals." And we say, "Where, then, is Providence, if the son of a tavern-keeper or perhaps of a herb-seller—a man foolish to a degree, senseless, and not understanding even enough, as they say, to blow his own nose—should then parade brilliantly through the broad street, adorning himself with whole ingots of gold, and horses, and mules, and splendid houses; while some other man, of a lineage comparable to Codrus and of learning comparable to Plato, should not be able to afford even a donkey?" And the one is a miscarriage of nature, more misshapen than the monsters of Empedocles, foul to look upon in his form, his face full of soot, such as we introduce into the scenes as stage-puppets—more Ethiopian, skin wrinkled, his jaws, one might say, as if pierced through, a whetstone (an eater, that is), ridiculous in his hair, more ridiculous in his beard, some demon from the underworld, hideous and foul—and he is wedded to a lovely and beautiful wife, like Hephaestus to golden Aphrodite, as the Homeridae say. And yet, another person, a goodly youth, just at the age when the down is tracing the geometry of his chin, a gift of the Graces, a statue of nature, sweet to speak with, fair to behold, genteel to converse with—is such a man to be wedded to some bleary-eyed old woman?

^B These things, we the many, the common people, speak, being vexed at the Charybdis and the ebb-tides of human affairs. But such arguments are unworthy of education and philosophy. For if we humans were to perish entirely when we die in this life, even so, we ought not to be vexed at the unequal distribution of lives, but rather, we should rejoice greatly, laughing at the foolish rich. For what is the wealth of Midas compared to one laugh of Democritus? And what is the whole empire of the Macedonian compared to one free-spoken utterance of the Sinopian? Indeed, I would rather have chosen the freedom of Solon than the riches of Croesus, with which he perished; and I would rather have chosen to be Plato in poverty than Dionysius in tyranny, who, a little later, led away as a captive to Corinth, might be seen sitting in a perfumery shop, drinking wine mixed with water by the inn[keepers]...

from the taverns. ^A Thus, therefore, one ought not to be distressed, even if we were to end our lives in the present state. Since our soul is an immortal thing, and a state of another life lies in our hopes, and there are punishments for wickedness and rewards for virtue, how much more blessed is it to be poor with what is good rather than to be rich with baseness!

But perhaps the inequality of things has persuaded you to deny Providence? And yet, for this very reason, one ought all the more to introduce Providence. For just as rhythm and melody could never exist in music if all the notes were solely deep or solely high, but harmony is accustomed to arise from the interweaving of unequal tones, so also the entire life among us has been harmoniously structured by Providence through the inequalities of things. But the cause of these doubts for you is ignorance, which the Syrian 13 rhetor 14 said was a terrible thing—not having lied in this one point at least. For since we are not able to fly up to the ether to clearly behold the causes and the principles by which Providence orders the whole [of the universe] wisely and expertly, we charge the whole with disorder. And yet, one should have understood that it is impossible to know the designs of Providence for one who does not even perceive the greater part of human cognition. For tell me, have you seen a man ^B advanced in years, wearing his age, revealing the Pythagorean pallor upon his face, and leaning upon a curved staff like a Silenus? What, pray, would you have said about him? Is this man not appear to be god-fearing? Is he not holy? Is it not the case that all things are without providence, if such men are not prosperous? I know well that you would say even more. But I have seen the one described, and he was far from being holy. For observing him stealing domestic birds, I took them from his hand and led him away from my bosom. Do you see how we men live mostly in hypocrisy? And we are deceived about the donkey in the lion's skin 16 and the weasel in the bridal dress 17. For just as the armor of Achilles, when put upon Patroclus, made one imagine for a time that the son of Menoetius was Achilles 18, and Caesar, by taking Lucilius in place of Brutus, was deceived 19; so is there a deep stage around us, and we mock ourselves and are mocked. If you had, O dear friend, the wings to fly up and ascend, ^C like the eagles, and, having reached the ether, were able to gaze upon the principles of Providence, you would have wondered at its expertise. But now, since there is a great difference between winged and terrestrial animals, just as there is between the borders of the Phrygians and the Mysians 20, this is impossible. ^D Terrible indeed is ignorance, and it is the cause of many evils for men, shedding, as it were, a certain mist over things, dimming the truth, and overshadowing the life of each person.

And even the Myrians ^A (20), this is impossible; but it is not difficult to distinguish each thing by reason, and to understand, as much as possible, the providential wisdom. But if, even when we investigate, the truth is not easily attained—to use the words of that wise man—we must needs "chant a spell over ourselves" (21); for we distance ourselves from things above us just as much in our knowledge as we do in place. For let us not fall into the madness of Democritus, nor into the atheism of Hippo (22), so as to attempt to strip divine Providence of everything, because it has not favored us with gold. For my part, O those present (and may Adrasteia be far from me!), I was not born of an altogether lowly lineage; rather, it is one that many might even covet. As for my body, even if it has not attained to the most excellent constitution, at least it has not been dealt any injury. I attended ^B the schools of the best teachers; I was instructed in grammar; I learned rhetoric, not the kind that the cold Simocatti and those like them—to speak more appropriately—belch out (23), but that which the Aristidises and Platos breathe. I have it to say that I have left nothing behind of the philosophy of Aristotle, of the sublime eloquence of Plato, of the theory involved in lines and numbers; but I am wary of the boaster. And for my many discourses—which are not easily numbered—that are laboring within me, there is no one who has been provided for my aid, but I breathe them from my tongue with readiness. There is one hindrance for me—and I will not hide it: my tongue ^C stammers at times between words; sometimes it even doubles a syllable. As some say—not implausibly—this is not because it is unable to serve the abundance of thoughts, but because, struggling with the multitude of concepts, it does not know which one to snatch up first; and this is clear from the fact that it discourses quite calmly in books. But as I judge concerning myself, it is a natural defect that it has received, yet it does not lag (24) behind anyone in speech, not to mention that it breathes a fiery storm against those who oppose it. But if it does lag in any way, my hand is there for the moment, filling in what is lacking with ink. And I have detailed these things, not to show off—by the Word, not so—but to show that, although I am deemed unworthy of ^D even the smallest thing among such great men, I have not, however, entertained any thought unworthy of my nurturing wisdom, so as to rail against Providence because she did not provide me with heaps of gold, perhaps knowing that I would be corrupted by them, to the detriment of philosophy. We, therefore, both feel and would continue to feel in this way about these things. But there are others who take the opposite path entirely, saying that there is no Providence at all, because they themselves are not rich—whereas, if they knew themselves to be wise, and good, and shining with the other virtues—things in which they have reason to rejoice, since they are many—rather than being pained by those things the lack of which they lament; and if they were conscious of no good in themselves, they should not, even so, be burdened by poverty, nor deem themselves unworthy.

But as it is, ^A oh, would that it had never entered into the miserable life of men, that this disease should befall it! And that heavy burden mentioned by Aristotle, that the rich man is called happy, now seems a true dogma and a direct law; and we prefer gold to virtue. Oh, the stupidity! And yet, even if most men were not able to perceive the power of the Word from elsewhere, how should they not, by not understanding this, find themselves in need of the proverbial parsley? For why is the Word sought after by many today, being valued at nothing, if the thing itself were not desirable? For not—as when Dionysius was philosophizing, and those around him philosophized too, and when he held philosophy in low esteem, they themselves ^B nodded their assent to that good—have the words fared in this way. But, just as that which is drawn from wells, and that which is pruned from plants, is by nature inclined to flow back more abundantly and to grow more vigorously, so too are these words: when pursued, they have flourished more. Yet you, who would scarcely deign to be called master of a runaway servant, are not ashamed to place education, and the Word, and Providence itself, in a secondary position to wealth, the most faithless of possessions. Gold, author of evils, destroyer of life, ruin of all ^C things! How much better would it be for you, a composition of earth and water, to be dissolved into these elements than that the sanctity of Providence should thus be trampled underfoot!

But be propitious to us, who are of unsound mind, O Providence, and do not, by taking away the wedge that holds the world together, overturn and confound the whole. But, just as you regulated life at its very foundation, manifesting the same foresight now, move the ether in a circle, fix the earth in the central position, scatter the air, smooth the sea, move the great sun in an orderly fashion, turn the hours, measure time, and bring forth the things necessary; lead up the vapors from the waters, form the clouds, bring down the rains, and irrigate the earth. ^D Chastise the wicked with poverty and disease, so that they may not become worse through indulgence; heat the good in the same fires, so that they may shine more brightly through purification. Honor those who love God with health and wealth, so that virtue may be envied even by the lowly; enrich many of the wicked too, as they receive good things during this life. Seat Diocletians upon the throne of power, so that the martyrs may be crowned; grant that there be Constantines, so that the good may not become effaced, weakened by a succession of evils. And organize all things and carry them out according to the wisdom within you. And as for us, if it is not possible to philosophize while...

^A we live in poverty along with our books, grant us at least, with health, to utilize everything else according to divine Providence, as you will use them ^B. In this, may we both enjoy wealth and health, and may we consider you the overseer of all things, and one who speaks and manages wisely.

BY THE SAME

ON THE TEXT, "AND HE HIMSELF SHALL GO BEFORE HIM IN THE SPIRIT AND POWER OF ELIAS."

Doubt is the beginning of knowledge, my dear friend; this has always been agreed upon by everyone, and our discourse will not depart from that—provided that the mind remains alien to arrogance and enticements, and that the soul is upright and devoted to God. For the Savior himself turns away from those who question in a wicked manner. Thus, questioning philosophically and with love of learning is prescribed by the One who commands us to search the Scriptures, ^C seeing that not one iota, not one dot, is inscribed upon the sacred parchments in vain or to no purpose. Therefore, one ought not to be at a loss regarding those things that are spoken in ways that are difficult to understand by the Spirit. Indeed, one ought to be at a loss in such matters, insofar as is within our power, if we mean to attain and track down the truth within them. For if even Paul, that great teacher of the inhabited world, who turned his entire mind to the peak of divine concepts, went round these depths to say: "O the depth of the riches both of the wisdom and knowledge of God! How unsearchable are his judgments!" ^D yet are his judgments not unsearchable to those who perceive the words of Paul? To search them out in accordance with God is both easy and prosperous; but to "investigate them out"—that is, to bring the search to an end—is impossible. You are therefore praiseworthy, my best of friends, though you are also much more deserving of blame for your lack of discernment. For why would you abandon the sacred assembly before the throne—the Moseses and the Aarons, who are and are called the mouth of God, who thunder with John and sound the trumpet with Paul, who are appointed and stand upon the sacred platforms and take the Testament of God upon their lips—while instead consulting us, who are subject to matter and serve the cold habits that have crept into the palaces for the greater part of our lives? It would be like trying to trim one's shoe properly, if we do not wish to suffer a blow to the head by the servants of the royal floor, on account of the philosophical slipper, as it were [β], fitting only to the foot and not above the ankles.

And if we succeed in stealing something from these sources, ^A it would be this: to share it with those who are more studious of the time, devoting it to "outer" philosophy. Do you appoint me as an interpreter of the sacred, and ordain me as a teacher of those who are not clean, from among the clean? I needed, therefore, because of this, to tie the gates of hearing and of my house to your request. But, since friendship is the mediator ^B, you ought not to be chided for demanding such things of me, nor should I be shamed for undertaking such great things. If something is said by me not quite in order, your keen intellect, having discerned the flaw in the discourse, should push the writing either into the fire or into the billowing waves of the sea. But if it is not such, but something worthy of hearing, it would be yours to share it with those who are studious of such matters; and let these, in turn, listen to the donkey of Balaam speaking. And he himself shall go before him in the spirit and power of Elijah. ^C The one who writes these things is Luke the Apostle, the disciple of the great Paul, and his fellow disciple, and a teacher of the whole world, a historian by nature, and a very rhetorical writer. He who speaks, however—for the angel of God does speak to Zacharias, foretelling to him about the great herald and the voice of the Word—says that the child to be born will be a lover of the desert, as is usually the case, and unassociated with worldly things, and that he will drink neither wine nor strong drink, as that famous ^D Samson; and he shall be filled with the Holy Spirit from his mother's womb; but, what is greater, he shall go before him in the spirit and power of Elijah.

^A The word "go before" is a term often used by eloquent men, and in this place it signifies the prior advent, in the same sense in which we say that a soldier goes before a commander, a groomsman before a bridegroom, and a citizen before a magistrate. This same word, moreover, justifies the title of "Forerunner"; for by going before and preceding, he is called a Forerunner. Now, this going before may be observed in John at three periods: first, that of his birth, for he was born before Christ according to his first, lower birth; second, that of his death and descent into the underworld—for John, I believe, went before to announce to those in the underworld the One who was to come; third, and placed in the middle, is that by which he exercised his preaching, the cry of "Repent," and the proclamation of the preparing of the ways of the Lord (β). I believe it would be most appropriate to interpret the expression according to this third, middle period. For although the prophet did indeed go before Christ in birth, he was not in the spirit and power of Elijah; for what did he—who was almost a contemporary of Christ, and ^B of the same lineage as Christ's ancestors—have in common with one who was beheaded by Herod, and with one who never tasted death? No, not even in this way was he in the spirit and power of Elijah. Therefore, the statement must be interpreted according to the middle advent mentioned.

That "he shall go before" signifies the prior advent is shown also by what follows. For having said "he shall go before," he added "before him," thereby making the meaning of "shall go before" clear. For since an approach, or an arrival in general, is either local—upward, downward, before, behind, to the right, or to the left—an arrival from above or below, if it were moving toward us, could not be said to be "before us" unless we were to turn our eyes up to the crown of our heads or bury them in our heels. Nor could it be to the right or the left, for the other would see it from one of the shoulders. Nor, again, could that which is walking behind be called "before" us, unless we were to imagine eyes upon ourselves like the mythical Cynocephali (8). But if we do not wish to violate nature or leave our eyes in their natural position, we would say that no one else "goes before" us except him who truly moves ahead in front of us.

[alt-version omitted]

[index: entries preserved]

^A He will also go before Him in the spirit and power of Elijah. The Holy Spirit, who distributes gifts, anoints prophets, and appoints apostles, is indeed called "Spirit." But "Spirit" is also said of any gift overflowing from Him, such as the "Spirit of fear," and of "wisdom," and of "adoption," and so on. Therefore, I believe that the phrase "in the spirit of Elijah" indicates either the gift of prophecy which was in him—for both were supreme prophets, John and Elijah—or it signifies their way of life and manner of conduct. For the Thesbite was a mountain-dweller, and so was the son of Zacharias. But the view I prefer most is that the discourse here signifies the spirit of zeal. For that it is the same spirit of zeal in both prophets, and the same manner of life, and the same power of working signs, we shall verify if we examine the accounts of each, if you will. Elijah lived on Carmel, a man scorched by the sun, and by nature and appearance wild in his face, his head, and his hands, shaggy after the manner of that Esau ^B. And what of John? Was it a different matter for him? Did he drink wine and strong drink? He ascended to the high mountain privately. And He was transfigured before them, and His face shone as the sun... And behold, there appeared to them Moses and Elijah talking with Him.

Do you bring forward the horn of Elijah? I bring forward in opposition the axe of John, which does not indeed apply the cutting down of trees that are barren, but threatens it ^C (13). Do you present the mantle of Elijah? I present the garment of camel hair of John. I have something more to boast of, and let the zealot restrain for me the fury of his wrath (14). There, indeed, was meat and bread, and a minister of luxury, and much indulgence surrounding Elijah (15); but here was wild honey, and the root of the trees lies ready. Every tree therefore that does not bear good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire.

Hear truly the words of the angel: "For he shall be," he says, "great before the Lord. And he shall not drink wine or strong drink, and he shall be filled with the Holy Spirit even from his mother's womb." John was called great, and he saw Christ prophesying. But did not Elijah also see Him, when he spoke with Him at His transfiguration on Tabor (12)? ^D Elijah shut up the heavens because of the wickedness of men, out of zeal for God; but John opened them through the voice of "Repent." He brought down water from heaven; but this man brought water up to heaven, or rather, the more paradoxical thing, the supercelestial summit of my Savior Christ Himself.

(14) The author wishes to bring in the passage from the Acts of the Apostles which is read in chapter xxii, verse 3: "I... being a zealot of the law of God" (or rather, perhaps, does it refer to that which is said concerning Elijah in III Kings xix, 6? And he looked, and behold, at his head there was a hearth-cake and a jar of water, etc. ibid. v. 10 and 14).

(15) I do not see how the things the author narrates here can be referred to the history of Elijah. For nowhere is it read that Elijah used sumptuous food; neither at the mouth of the torrent of Carith (III Kings xvii, 4), nor with the widow of Sarepta (ibid. 13), nor after he had slept under the shade of the juniper tree (III Kings xix, 6). It is perhaps a question of the ministry performed for Elijah by Elisha: "And he went after Elijah and ministered to him."

^A For John was not to die before Christ, so that he might announce the morning star to those in Hades also. The former killed soldiers by his word; the latter, by his word, as it were, saved the soldiers, exhorting them neither to extort from anyone nor to bring false charges, and to be content with their own wages (19); for he was most gentle, closer to the most gentle Thesbite. Elijah raised a dead child and restored his soul to him (20). John also, being in Hades, raised many souls of men in order to receive Him who was shortly to descend, and he restored them unto Him. The former brought down fire from heaven, and that fire consumed the sacrifice and the whole burnt offerings (21). But the latter did not bring it down in that way at all; rather, he pointed to the unquenchable fire which had descended from above, which no longer consumes a sacrifice or whole burnt offerings, but consumes the chaff (22), the easily kindled and easily consumed material of sin: for our God is a consuming fire. And while he did not sacrifice the Lamb, he made Him known to the people, who until that time was unknown, saying: "Behold, the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world." What then? Behold, a chariot of fire and horses of fire separated them both, and Elijah went up by a whirlwind into heaven. John’s chariot, on the contrary, was not of fire; but he departed in a chariot of testimony and blood; and whoever has touched his divine fire, he can truly be said to sit in a fiery seat. ^B Very rightly, therefore, does Scripture say that he will go before him in the spirit and power of Elijah. ^C And indeed—[original-script column: see facsimile] ^D

did not the chariot of fire, not the flaming one, but that through which [Elijah] ascended to heaven, signify the chariot of fire for John? For shall we not accept that the chariot of fire was that which came by way of martyrdom and blood? Is it not sufficient, then, to call such a divine fire a "chariot"—that fire which ^A even the grass, as Scripture says, does not dare to touch?

Hence, when I reached this point in my discourse, a difficulty occurred to me: why, when Zechariah did not believe these Gospel testimonies, did He subject him to the punishment of silence and to the bond of the tongue? And having contemplated this, I have this to say in response to the difficulty. Those who are about to utter something clear and to break forth into a great cry are accustomed, first of all, to draw breath and gather their wind, and to keep silent for a sufficient time; then, having fully exhaled all the gathered breath at once, they thus create a sound that is perfectly clear. For the same reason, I suppose, it was fitting that Zechariah, who was about to bring forth the great voice of the Word, should first be silent, as is likely, and afterwards pour forth that wondrous voice.

These things, therefore, I offer to you in response to the difficulty, as you see, and immediately, O most wise among the Nazarenes. If anything among those things ^B by which you yourself pride yourself has been put forward, thanks be to God; but if not, you yourself should invite another Hephaestus to come hither.

On the history of the Sages

Concerning that story, to add something more for the sake of completeness: that sage—who was the great Plato—having rushed into poetry and writing heroic verse, burned what he had written, as being far inferior to Homer. Then, having turned to tragedy and being about to compete, but having heard Socrates—or having been captured once by his siren song—he stripped it off in favor of philosophy, in which he was greatly distinguished. Thus, therefore, the passage could be understood: "If this interpretation is not approved by you, summon another Vulcan," that is, a writing created by fire. But perhaps the author had in mind: "Question another interpreter." For the words, "invite another Hephaestus to come hither," may refer to a certain proverb mentioned twice in the Lexicon of Suidas, ^C though, as it seems, erroneously in both places: "Aphthas is Dionysus; the 'a' is intensificative, as in 'astachys' (ear of corn); and the proverb is 'Aphthas has spoken to you,' implying an oracular speaker." Concerning which Kuster notes that the name Phtha is not attributed to Vulcan, but rather to Bacchus, as it is said in another place: "Phthas is Hephaestus among the Memphites; and the proverb is 'Phthas has spoken to you.'" Others, however, say "Aphthas," just as "staphis" becomes "astaphis" and "stachys" becomes "astachys." Yet the name exists, as testified by others, including Iamblichus (De myster. sect. VIII, ch. 3, p. 159), that the Greeks applied the name Hephaestus to Vulcan, that Intelligence operating all things with truth, which among the Egyptians was called Phtha. Phtha: for the creative mind, the guardian of truth and wisdom, coming into generation and bringing into light the unseen power of hidden reasons, is called Amun according to the Egyptian language; ^D but in finishing each thing untruthfully and technically with truth, it is Phtha.

OF THEODORUS PRODROMUS REFUTATION OF THE [SAYING] "POVERTY HAS ATTAINED WISDOM"

THEODORE PRODROMUS, INVECTIVE ON THE TEXT 'POVERTY HAS ACQUIRED WISDOM'

^A Many things, says the proverb, do the poets falsely recount, and to wealth, I would add, and to self-sufficiency, in as much as I posit them; but where and how many, I refrain from saying, not because of the magnitude of the undertaking alone, but also out of restraint regarding the measure and the verses; for a certain friendship and reverence toward Homer and the others, held from childhood, keeps me [from speaking], no less than it did the son of Aristo. But this one ancient falsehood I could not endure without bringing it to refutation: "Poverty," it says, "has attained wisdom." But how shall this be? If we distinguish what poverty is and what the poor man is, and what a wise man is and what wisdom is, we shall find [the answer]. For poverty is a thing opposite to wealth by way of a diameter; while self-sufficiency holds the middle between both—I mean between poverty and opulence—so that the excess of self-sufficiency is opulence, but the defect is poverty. For we do not count as poor him who does not abound in the delights of the tables of Syracuse, or partake of the complications of Sicilian and Attic pastries; but rather him who does not even have enough for his necessities, as I think. For what if this man or that does not possess golden cups, but nevertheless serves his drink in earthenware? And if he does not drink Chian, or Maronian, or wine from Byblos, but nevertheless cures his thirst with wine? This, then, to speak crudely, is the poor man and poverty; but wisdom is knowledge for its own sake, and for the sake of knowing that one should be content with what is necessary.

In many things (says the old adage) poets recount false things. I indeed agree; but where, who, how often—not just because of the magnitude of this aggression, but also that I might spare the meter and the verses—I refrain from asserting completely. But a certain friendship and reverence, conceived from childhood, prohibits me from stating this concerning Homer and the rest, no less than it did the son of Aristo once upon a time. Yet this one ancient lie I could by no means bear ^B nor refrain from bringing into the middle for the sake of refutation. And it is of this sort: "Poverty has attained wisdom." How, pray, will this be consistent? If indeed we shall discover, by dividing and defining, what inopia [poverty] may be, and what an inops [a poor man], and similarly what a wise man and what wisdom is. Inopia is therefore a thing diametrically opposed to wealth, with self-sufficiency holding the middle between both—I mean between inopia and opulence—so that the excess of self-sufficiency is opulence, but the defect is inopia. For we do not by any means place that man among the poor who does not flow with the delights of Syracusan tables, and who does not enjoy the cupidity of Sicilian or Attic cakes, but, as I think, him to whom not even things necessary for life are at hand. For what if this one or that does not abound in golden cups, but actually prepares his food and drink in an earthen vessel? And even if he does not quaff Chian wine, or Maronian, or wine brought from Byblos, yet is content with those things which are necessary for his thirst?

It is something like this, if I may speak plainly, regarding the poor man and poverty. But wisdom is a knowledge which is desirable for its own sake and for the sake of knowing, and is most capable of governing and directing all other things. And he is wise who knows everything, as far as it is possible, even those things which are very difficult and not easy for man to understand. Likewise, he who is most precise and most skilled in teaching the causes of things. ^A Since such is the wise man, and such is wisdom, it must be considered from which of those things we have set forth—I speak of poverty, wealth, and self-sufficiency—the excellence of wisdom might be captured. But in order that our discourse may proceed more clearly, it is necessary to premise these things: that learning is the provider of wisdom; but for learning there is need of all kinds of resources, and of books, because it would not be possible otherwise for those who are not themselves god-inspired, after the manner of the Ascraean sage, to attain the treasure. That wisdom cannot, for the most part, be obtained by means of wealth is manifest ^B to those who examine it from this perspective; for one who is concerned with wealth becomes miserly and preoccupied with profit, and thus he would remain uneducated to the end; for he does not put wealth—a blind guide—at the head of the chorus, just as Plato somewhere says in the Republic; or he would squander his gold on pleasures, drinking bouts, and idle ease, becoming corrupted by a life of self-indulgence; and such a one would be not only uneducated, but also an enemy to those who are educated. Such was Dionysius, the tyrant of Sicily, who betrayed Plato, the great ornament of Athens, to be killed by mercenaries. Thus, therefore, wisdom is on both counts forbidden to wealth—unless someone places the mind ^C as a guide for it, as a skilled steward of those things that are at hand. It must be considered, however, if such a thing is not also [the case] for the one laboring in poverty, and how we may not forget the things mentioned before. For it has been said that he who desires to learn has need of every kind of provision and the assistance of books; but the poor man, if we have described him correctly in the previous sections, would have no abundance of any of these; for how could he be a poor man who is provided from everywhere, and who is rich in countless chests overflowing with books? You yourself must conclude what is lacking through the things set down; for since those things which are indispensable for learning are lacking to the poor man, and consequently ^D learning itself is to some extent despaired of, and wisdom with it, the conclusion is henceforth clear. For the same gold, which there [in the rich] brings in indulgence with great abundance, is lacking to the one who labors in poverty, and on that account learning is despaired of, and—a [index: entries preserved]

most of the wealthy into foolish men; and here too by its total absence it has brought on the strangling noose of hunger, ^A of money, and thus alienated those who are in poverty. Plato also adds his testimony to my argument, saying that the products of the arts, and the craftsmen themselves, become inferior owing to both poverty and wealth. Since, therefore, neither wealth nor poverty has obtained wisdom, as we have shown, it remains that the middle ground, namely self-sufficiency, has obtained this lot. For this, having surpassed the want of poverty in one who is not entirely destitute, and having lowered the insolence of wealth in one who is moderately provided, has hunted down the knowledge of what truly exists. And besides, it would be most absurd that wisdom, which holds the highest place among the virtues, should have been acquired by either of these vices—I mean poverty and wealth—and not by the virtue of self-sufficiency. That the possession of the middle ground is required, let us examine if you wish by gathering examples from history. For the Phoenicians, being both fond of money and wealthy, have not obtained the great wealth of wisdom; while the Scythians, the poorest ^B of all other nations, and a nomadic race, are nonetheless ignorant and unlearned. The Greeks, however, not possessing wealth and poverty in an immoderate way, are lovers of learning and philosophers; since, as our soul is tripartite, the Phoenicians seem to resemble its appetitive part, and the Scythians its passionate part—brute nations representing irrational parts—but the Greeks its rational part. Wherefore he who said, "Poverty has obtained wisdom," seems in this respect to be mistaken. But if one looks to our present days and conversely states, "Wisdom has obtained poverty," such a one has not strayed far from the door of truth. For it was necessary that either kings should philosophize, or philosophers should be kings, it being impossible for a city to be good in any other way; and just as in the human soul there will never be deep peace unless its rational part commands and the appetitive part and the passionate part ^C submit to it, so too in a city where the philosophic element does not rule, but the money-making element is in command, there will never be peace and good order; but now the situation is otherwise than it ought to be. And why is discourse held in low esteem? If some Adimantus even now should be at a loss as to why, after all, philosophers are not honored in cities, Socrates would be ready to offer the solution, saying: "This would be a wonder, if they were honored by cities so drunk; but if they were sober, and if cities were masters of themselves, whom would they prefer over those who pursue philosophy?" But in my opinion, poverty would not only not obtain wisdom, but will also be a purveyor of unspeakable evils; for if ^D I do not forget the Plato in the *Phaedrus*, "The wicked lover will pray," he says, "for the extreme poverty of the beloved, so that he may be easily mastered by him through poverty." Men do not hesitate at any bold deed; they rob temples, they rifle tombs, they...

plunder, and you tell me that Poverty has acquired wisdom? For the sake of poverty, perjuries and lies of every kind; and you attribute the truest knowledge to it? Because of this, are you asserting that it is the creator of scenes, masks, tricks, and multiple frauds, that it is the artificer of wisdom, even though it is a thing of the greatest variety applied to the simplest matter? Collect and compare the ancient histories for me; and when you have examined them, come say with what poverty Marcus Antoninus practiced philosophy? What sort of poverty supplied the discourses for Phocion? Of whom the one was emperor of the Romans and the other commander of the Athenian army. Or would you perhaps also place Cebes the Theban, and Crito who was born in Athens, and the rest of the group of Socratic discipline among the poor? They who were begging to redeem the son of Sophroniscus from the eleven magistrates with their own gold and money, even if he were to be sold for infinite talents. And where shall we place Aristotle, who, while philosophizing, almost saved the entire dominion of the Macedonian king? And this very Macedonian himself—by what poverty was he initiated into philosophy? Therefore, it will surely be far from true that this is a source of wisdom, which we ought to flee and cast ourselves into the sea of toils. For if ^C if we lived our lives with the soul naked, having surpassed and trodden underfoot this clay, perhaps we would learn nothing at all, seeing the truth that exists in things without any intermediary; or if it were necessary that we should learn, the poor man would learn no less than the wealthy. But since nature has inconveniently attached this skin to us, which is in need of many things, I fear that he who would embrace disciplines with poverty might exhale his own soul before he could attain wisdom. For in truth, it would be easier to stand three times by the shield (as in the tragedy) than to contend once with poverty. "Be it so," he says, "nevertheless, where shall we place Diogenes the Dog, who acquired poverty as his mistress of philosophy?" Whose mistress of philosophy, most excellent man, are you suggesting? Was it the one that deals with the obscurity of nature, which he supposedly attained beautifully through poverty? Or was he initiated into the secrets of the mathematical disciplines, and by the aids of this instruction did he run to the knowledge of the Supreme Nature, the Author of all things? Just as the great Plotinus also asserts somewhere in this manner: "Deliver," he says, "to the young the mathematical arts, for the sake of accustoming them to the nature of that which is incorporeal." What, pray tell, out of these sciences did Diogenes correctly attain with poverty as his guide? You cannot say; but if you wish to discern the form of his ^D philosophical sect, I myself will describe it to you by my words.

They say of us that we live a life Free from danger at home, while others fight with the spear. They think wrongly; for I would rather stand three times by the shield In battle, than give birth once.

^A He was a man who lived without a hearth, squalid, unwashed, a wanderer; when he needed to drink, he would resort to a tavern. He was harsh and shameless after the manner of dogs; ready to reprimand, and his entire philosophy consisted of boldness and poverty; it is clear, too, to those [who know] what he felt about nature—whether the transcendent and eternal, or this one consonant with us—that he was discovered to have neither written nor investigated anything. He left behind in books only a few of his more elegant aphorisms. Perhaps someone might find such kinds of philosophy in poverty; but wisdom, which truly exists and bears the name in truth, could never be derived from poverty. ^D

THEODORE PRODROMUS: FRIENDSHIP EXILED

(Translated by Conrad Gesner. Stobaeus' Works, Geneva, 1609, fol.)

ARGUMENT OF THE DIALOGUE. A stranger meets Friendship, who has been cast out of the world by her husband, and deplores her state. She tells him the whole story of the injuries and ingratitude of her husband, who, having driven her out, has taken Enmity as a concubine on the advice of his handmaid, Stultitia; she also enumerates her own goods and the evils of Enmity. Finally, persuaded by the stranger, she is taken by him as a wife.

STRANGER, FRIENDSHIP. STRANGER. Lady Friendship, head [worthy of] reverence, whence do you come? And why is your countenance full of tears, sad and downcast, your hair dishevelled, looking down upon the ground, your skin pale, dressed in a garment of mourning, with your girdle careless, and your slippers, and having suffered the worst transformation? ^{B C} Where is the ornament of before, and the purple? Where is the elegance, and the charm of your lips? Where is the braided hair, and the grace of your girdle, and the sandals, and all the rest of your dignity? Everything has collapsed at once to nothing. And now you walk by, like to mourning women, sad. But where exactly, and whence? FRIENDSHIP. Is the world then destitute of friendship? STRANGER. Destitute, since it has so insulted me. FRIENDSHIP. Insulted you? STRANGER. And cast me out of doors. STRANGER. And looking at the ground? Your color is pale, your black garment is a messenger of mourning; your girdle is soiled, your shoes are worn. The worst of reversals accompanies you. Where now is your former finery? Where is the purple? Where is the ancient beauty, and your rosy lips? Where is the graceful band of your hair, and the beautiful sandals, and all your remaining splendor? Everything has vanished; nothing is left. You seem to me, truly, to resemble a hired mourner. But whence, sad one, and whither do you direct your footsteps? FRIENDSHIP. I am leaving the earth and approaching the divinity of the Father. STRANGER. Will the world, then, lack your gifts?

^A PHILOSOPHY. It will lack them, in that he who was such an enemy to me will be deprived of them. STRANGER. An enemy? PHILOSOPHY. Indeed, he drove me out with violence. STRANGER. Out? PHILOSOPHY. It is so; I already seemed to be dying. STRANGER. You were lying outside? PHILOSOPHY. And utterly ruined by lashes. STRANGER. Then the world is mad, as you relate, openly, to have treated you in such an unworthy manner. PHILOSOPHY. What if you were also to hear the remainder of my misfortune? Already were fists flying at my face from both sides; already my belly groaned from the kicks forced into it. I will keep silent about the rest, although there are even heavier things, and let not the cause of my grief be a burden to you, stranger. STRANGER. Do not keep silent about anything, but speak of the whole matter; I entreat you by the name of your Father. PHILOSOPHY. Therefore, sitting here under the pine tree—do you see how huge and beautiful the tree is?—we shall explain it in words just as the matter itself is. STRANGER. We are seated now: begin when you like. PHILOSOPHY. I, then, in the first place, am always purely united with the celestial Triad of the Divinity. Then, the swift spirits are joined to me, and the triple triads of the celestial minds—I mean Cherubim, and Seraphim, and Thrones—and the rest of the entire sacred militia of heaven. I alone create a harmonious disposition for them toward God, and among themselves, and individually with each other, and I bind together the many myriads of those on high into one, and weave them into one chain. Lucifer alone turned away from me before, and was cast down from the chariots on high. Thus indeed, in this way, is the intelligible creation ^A held by me, and it remains protected; for as for the visible nature and the one subject to sensation, the cosmic fullness, the lower creation: who doubts that it is held together by Friendship? For let the babbler Empedocles perish, who called Strife the creator of things below. For what will a man think or comprehend—a man who does not know that fire burns by nature—except that he fell into the midst of the craters of fire? Or who, if not Friendship, bent into a sphere the broad and great heaven, which was previously a straight line, at the command of the One who said so? For as if to say, that, being beautiful and orderly, it curled itself into a circle ^B because it loved itself, and it is affectionate to itself from everywhere, and it binds all parts together for all. I have arranged the circles of the infinite stars, simply of all of them, the fixed and the wandering, with a bond and a most wise connection. I join the solar disk, which pours forth light, to the lunar circle with friendship, and I show so much friendship that it even lends torches to it for the brightness of the nights. I sit in the midst of the entire fullness of the whole life, which is composed of a weaving together of contrary natures, joined in common, even if it is separated by nature. Fire is dry, and the pouring of air is moist; these are neighbors, and in their midst is battle. ^C This order he interrupted, and wretchedly he was cast down from heaven to the lowest places of the universe. So great is the power of our spirits among the celestials. But whoever doubts that the nature of the world, which is subject to the senses, consists and is established by our laws? Empedocles, the ignorant one, once talked nonsense when he said that the world was founded by strife. What would that man know or perceive clearly, who did not know that everything is consumed by fire? Indeed, the wretched man leaped into the craters of fire. And who would have bent the broad palaces of Olympus, once extended in the manner of a straight line, into a circle, at the command of God, were it not for Friendship? ^D Truly, Olympus, splendid on all sides and most beautiful, was captivated by its own form, so that its edges came together in one circumference, and it was safely joined in one embrace. I join the spheres of all the stars, whether wandering or stationary, and I bind them with firm bonds and order. Through me the solar ardor, the fountain of light, is always commingled with the circle of Diana. And they agree with such a stimulus of love, that the moon, bearing the mutual radiance of her brother, dispels the black darkness of the nights. Even the vital elements of bodies, although they are endowed with opposing forms,

^A I bind them together with harmonious bonds. Fire is dry, moisture imbues the air. Each neighbor stirs up a battle against the other: I inject a common heat into the two contraries, dissipating their discord. For the air is hot, the waters are very cold, and the proximity of the two is beset by mutual strife; but I mix in a humid bond, and the former strife is immediately quelled. The waters are indeed moist, the earth is dry, but cold is interposed at my command, and it gives birth to a sweet concord for the future. These are the primary elements of the universe. What cause, furthermore, apart from friendship, produces the annual mutations which the sun performs? The winter air does not immediately become summer; for the qualities in them are contrary. Spring, therefore, has its turns in the middle. The time of summer also does not happen suddenly into winter, but autumn intervenes between them. These four parts of the year, as I have just said, are like girls weaving threads; the beautiful series of days becomes as it were a tapestry. Let the days be your threads: winter, autumn, summer, and spring, which is fertile in flowers, are the maidens; hence the whole year becomes as it were a finished web. Human life also consists through me. For health and beauty are the works of my own self. You ask whence this comes to be? ^B If the four humors should agree together, then the office of perfect health is given. But if there be a well-proportioned figure of the limbs, and a mutual connection, as is fitting, and an elegant gift of complexion is added, then it will deserve to be called beauty. Thus, then, good health and the grace of form are conferred by me upon the race of mortals. ^C And friendship constitutes the fellowship of cities, whether one calls it houses and walls, or the multitude of men. I elevate the vast weights of bricks and stones equally into one wall. A single corner joins two walls; from four corners a house becomes whole. Men are associated by their arts through me; for behold, the fuller seeks the shoemaker. The maker of bridles is pleasing to the commander of horsemen. To him who tills the field, the craftsman is conjoined. Briefly, know this: every art is linked to every other. For every fisherman is indeed in need of the rustic, and he who tills the fields is in need of the fisherman; for by giving bread, he receives fish in return. Thus every workman seeks the help of another. This method, finally, promotes cities. ^D I am the bridesmaid in all marriages. I reconcile the female to the male sex, and I command the male again to love the female. For why, O murex, do you desert the oceanic waves, what has persuaded you to leave the deep sea, to run up the back of the sea, and to run over the dry ground?

Who makes all the substance of iron a slave to the magnetic stone? It is surely nothing else but Love. In me the whole subsists, is held together, and remains. Let me tell you something greater, and let every speech be silent. I persuaded God, who is, the all-worker, the express image of the Father, the great Word, the all-radiant light, the transcendent nature, the timeless Mind, the substance of time-making, to descend as far as the earth and the things below, to take on the whole passible nature, and to be clothed in a bodily purple, woven from virginal blood; to suffer, to die—alas!—for such great love, by which such a deed—O strange longing!—is performed. Through this, He who is lord of both time and flesh is mixed temporally with the flesh, and raises up the fallen image, having melted it down in His own passion. Such are the honors, stranger, that I bestow upon mortals. Such are my gifts for life. But (to use the proverb) I pour ointments upon the dead, or play the lyre to asses. For I was unknowingly offering my whole self to an ungrateful runaway in this life, who sets aside my company, miserable man that he is, and inclines toward a base harlot, whom they call Enmity.

^A For by the cooperation of the maid’s folly, she brings her into the house, but drives me out, striking me. O laws, O laws! And he does not even practice illicit marriages in secret, but fulfills the shame openly, although he is ignorant of all justice before all men. What fault is in me, that he should dissolve the marriage? What good thing is in the adulteress, such that he should carry the vessel to her? For if anyone should wish to compare me to her, I hesitate, wary of blame for being elegant. I am bright-eyed, look kindly, smile for the most part, and breathe charm. If there is need to speak, there is such sweetness in my speech; if there is need to laugh, there is such dignity in it. In interlacing, you would not learn the fingers, and in walking, you would not learn the feet. And if cakes are nourishing me now, and now whole-grains, I do not prefer the cakes to the salt. Among the good, I see my neighbor keenly, but I suffer from myopia toward the base. I have avoided two opposing vices: hypocrisy and a pompous manner. So much for me, then; but what of Enmity? ^B Murderous blood, blood-stained hands, a pallid face, emaciated cheeks, a rough voice—and for the most part barbarian—an indecent manner, insolence, leaping, shouting, and a great uproar.

^C I have surrendered my whole self to the most ungrateful man, who, foolish and wretched, holds my marriage in contempt, and has taken for himself the worst harlot. She is called Enmity by name. She is admitted by the help and counsel of a maid whose name is Folly; we are expelled. Oh, the shame! O laws, he publicly holds a marriage, or rather, a wickedness. He fears nothing, and neither conceals the shameless deed, nor holds to any rights or any divine law.

^D What crime is in me, such that I should deserve to be repelled? What good does that woman have, that she should be worthy of being loved? If I should wish to compare us both equally, I fear that I might appear excessive in my own praises. My appearance is gentle and pleasant; I smile for the most part, and I breathe grace in everything. If something must be said, how I abound with wit! If I wish to laugh, it is not without dignity. I embrace good men with chaste, honorable hands. I proceed in my walk with gravity and most gently. And whether it be cake or salt that is my food, I act frugally, and I do not prefer the cake. I look upon good men with gentle eyes; but toward the evil, I willingly grow blind. Moreover, the twin vices are hostile to me: hypocrisy and depravity in one's ways. These are what is proper to me; as for the rival and adulteress Enmity, these are her traits: bloody slaughter, blood-stained hands,

^A a face foul with a pallid, emaciated look, a voice exceedingly harsh and for the most part barbaric, restless and clamorous; this is injury. Who, then, being sound of mind, tell me, stranger, would choose—having left such a one—to behold a Bacchante so utterly wild and wanton? And yet, the most miserable and wretched life dares such things, and such great injustice. But I, too, though I have suffered such things, stranger, nevertheless love my husband once again. For how could I not love, since I am called Friendship?

"But you are merely speaking vanity," someone might perhaps say, "O woman, and you accuse the man far from the truth. For you ought to speak ill of the maidservant, whoever she might be, whom you call Folly; for she it is who drags him into hatred. Yet you excuse her from blame, while against your husband you breathe fire directly." If someone were to propose these things persuasively, perhaps I should propose my own case more persuasively. For against whom, not even listening to his own kin, did he lend his whole hearing to the slave-girl, although he had learned that the slave is an enemy to her masters? But, moreover, how can there be marriage for those who dissolve it? Or how, with friendship absent from the marriage, will there be a community of life? You see the frenzy from which he suffers, you see the drunkenness, you see the manic distraction, you see the disease? He has not even realized that the nature of enmity knows not how to bind, but rather to loose the bonds.

In order, however, that you may clearly encounter our own case, ^A it must be confirmed by external accounts. For that which encroaches even upon nature spurs itself on to contend with itself. Look at Eteocles and Polynices; for when enmity, the dancer, came between them both, each fell by the hand of the other. But I, in binding together those who are strangers, make them better than those joined by blood. For Orestes and the friend Pylades performed so many labors for my sake. You have heard, good sir, of the tragedy; from thence, too, you have heard of the rhapsody. For as long as enmity sharpened the blade of Achilles ^B against the Mycenæan leader himself, the fire-bearing son of Priam [marched] against the fleet; while the Thessalian shield was resting, and before that, the long spear in the hand of Ajax, that giant in stature and size. But whenever I should lay hold of the son of Peleus—the dice of the battle having been cast in another direction—he who yesterday was in flight, turning his back, now lies dead: Hector, who once shook all of Hellas, pitiably dragged from the feet [of a chariot], driving his wretched chariot-driving, his hair—that fair and ordered hair—and his beautiful locks being dragged in the dust, and the victory monument so great for the Achaeans. Thus have we been set apart from one another, stranger,

and I award the judgment to you. But life is not this, and having taken up enmity, it has shown me to be a stranger and away from my hearth. I, for my part, am going up to the Father; but let the enmity henceforth dance below, and let her children play in the midst. Do you wish to know who the children of enmity are? The sons are: Envy, Ambush, and the third, Murder; the daughters are: Vice, Wrath, and Strife. This woman, then, as I said, let her children have freedom of speech concerning her life; but I, for my part, am running toward the ether. And all is pity, and all is philanthropy, and wise zeal, and a love for all that is noble—see how everything flies together for me. And I also contemplate the future, whither I might run. I weep for the sake of the folly of this life, which is truly wretched and miserable—but I judge you worthy to do whatever you might choose. But yet, behold, I supplicate you with tears, by the One who begot me, I request it; by time, by the changeless essences, come with me, enter the hut, learn the roof, swallow of the sober bowl, and taste of the cup of delight, ^A and partake of the nether world and the salt. Ph.: Not this for me, not this, not this, stranger. For I have had enough of what I suffered in the past time. What need is there of more? Enough of things past. S.: You speak justly, my lady, and you speak well. For you judge the future by the things you have suffered. But I confirm the word for you with an oath. For I shall do nothing to you of those things which are contrary, nor shall I shame our affection, nor our love; no, by those chilling words of yours. Ph.: Could you offer me these as bridal gifts, if I should provide you with the pledges of marriage? S.: What kind? Speak, that I may offer them. Ph.: It is possible. S.: In sorrows, to be grieved by illegitimate things? ^B Ph.: Most certainly. Ph.: To flee double-edged torments? To speak these things, and to think them in the heart? S.: That too, absolutely. Ask something else. Ph.: To hold the things of your friends in the second place to your own? S.: To hold them so. Ph.: And to die many times for them? S.: Yes, and to die. Ph.: And not to envy those who envy? S.: Yes. Ph.: And to love those who are envious? S.: Absolutely. Ph.: I fear that you might accept these in word, but deny them in deed. S.: And yet, I have sworn. Ph.: Look upon the oath, how you bind me to yourself.

BY THE SAME LAMENTATIONS ON PROVIDENCE

^A I do not ignore, O Word, my Creator, that the abyss of your riches is vast; I pass over the watch of Habakkuk, who looks to see if he might perceive anything; I pass over Paul. I do not ignore him, your own mouth, saying, "O the depth of wisdom and knowledge!" Ten thousand things persuade me to honor Providence, the regulated motion of all things. The sun itself, running against the paths of the highest, yet also running with them, pouring forth light, measuring all time, turning the four seasons harmoniously, begetting winter and producing summer, and making the temperate mixtures between them, shining as he rises like a giant from the east, then traversing the mid-heaven, reaching the west, setting, running from below, rising again, and begetting night and giving birth to day; and the waxing and manifold waning of the moon, the sun's pale-shining nocturnal counterpart. ^D I know the works of Providence and those of things below. For we must not insert those who stand at the lunar sphere itself. For who fixed the earth in the middle, having placed water as a foundation beneath with infinite weight, if not the wise Word of wise Providence? Come, cast a small pebble into the water; will it not swim for you, floating light across the current, and will it not declare the bottom of the abyss to you? If the pebble does this, then, seeing the whole earth standing unswervingly upon the waters, why should I not immediately be convinced of Providence? Who binds the vapor into a cloud, and dissolves the cloud's condensation into rain? And who makes the face of the snow majestic with a natural, pale, and cold whiteness? Or fashions the hail with a strange lathe? And nurtures the grass with early-morning dew? Who ordained the straight-blowing winds? To which he arrayed against them the back-blowing ones?

And who by bringing them together, wisely governs the nature of our kind, which is so multifaceted? Even if the chatter of Epicurus has missed these things, though it ought not to have missed them. For if a single horse should suffer destruction, without reins and without a rider, and the one is caught by a sea-serpent, and the one that stumbled is devoured by a creature of the ravine; how could one say that the cosmic fullness, the entire creation, does not remain under a governor? I am not ignorant, therefore, as I have said before, that the abyss of judgments is in you, my Christ; but since I am unable to look into the depth and understand the secret ways of each, I am distressed by the rolling troubles of affairs, and I am vexed at the distributions of lives.

Or how does the builder, the fuller, the stone-cutter, the tanner, the shoemaker, the tiller of the soil, the remaining mob of vulgar fortune, rule as master over men who are wise and of noble lineage, like servants, and for one, turn their knuckles against them, and another, heap insults from the wagon—to use the proverb? And who, boasting of a fish-monger mother, or indeed a fruit-seller or a tavern-keeper, and being a son of a nameless father, perhaps one who rules over timber or sells timber, or [one] of those things which you might buy for three obols, a boorish man and one with dirty boots, who bears the most repulsive face of a digger, ignorant of every good and precious thing, and not having the knowledge even of how to scratch himself—having been taught only to drink and get drunk, or to eat more than the Seleucid [quails]—and in his speaking pouring out jars of spittle; this man abounds in silver, and whole bricks are made of gold, and he builds shining houses with golden roofs, and he feeds whole herds of proud horses from the land of Thessaly and the plains of Arabia, and he adorns this [man] with golden trappings, and he goes forth into the middle of the thoroughfare, arrayed in the manner of a prince by those who escort him, and is worshipped, and holds the honor of God. ^B

But another, grave, noble in lineage from the east, beautiful in form, but more beautiful in his life, a student of discourse and a teacher of discourse, spending the whole day occupied with books, practicing learning and delighting in studying, goes about without a home, wretched, poor, not even having enough bran to eat; but being a friend of virtue and of learning, he does not obtain even the smallest portion of due honor, but is mocked and even more so persecuted. Why should I not say what is more difficult to contemplate than all [else]? For it is not enough for them to be wealthy in the common things, in all other things that seem precious, but they even snatch away his books, ^{C D}

^A oh, what a great loss—that gold should steal away the very words! Alas, how many floods of tears I have shed, seeing the wise in the midst of a council speaking rightly yet being despised, while senseless rich men are honored. Melitus babbles, and Socrates teaches; yet Melitus lives, and Socrates dies. The sycophant escapes the lawsuits, while the Eleven judge the free men. The hemlock is ground up for the noble man, while Anytus evades the punishment. If a poor man invokes Christ, he is said to be acting impiously; if a rich man invokes Antichrist, he is said to be acting piously. I am choked at these things; hating this life, I desire to die; I do not wish to see the sun. From this, one man introduced "Fortune," and another "Chance"—both of them Greeks, both in common introducing a lack of governance. From this, the ages of that time were ignorant of the matter of the most wise Providence. From this, the kindred nature of men, knowing itself rent into two parts, wrote an unjust law of titles, cutting the creature into incompatible divisions; and one person fortune named a slave, while the other it allotted to the free. O gold, beginning of evils, blind offspring of the earth, would that you might perish and pass away from our midst, ^A you seditious and world-destroying thing. But these things are to me as nothing compared to gold—for what has a soulless nature done wrong? Would that the baseness of mortals might perish, who judge the good ^B by their good fortune, and the wicked, conversely, by their bad fortune. O wretched poor, a miserable race, stripped of the glory of virtue along with that wealth and that gold! Yet the Word says, "How can the world perform any good thing, lying as it does in the wicked one?" Alas, how much weeping from Heraclitus, and how much laughter, in turn, from Democritus! The former would lament the foolish life, while the latter would mock the simpletons. Since these things are so, in either fashion, we ought both to laugh and to weep. But who will give me a trumpeting mouth, and a tongue agile for the breadth of discourse, and, having stationed myself upon the very peak of Parnassus, widen the outcry from afar, to offer these things to the rich? Where do you wander, O gold-worshipping rich? And when you are arrayed, O pitiable ones, on your path? Wealth is but a substance of the earth that flows away quickly, of which the wicked always carry off the greater part. Why do you become worse as you grow richer? The venerable purple is but an invention of a dog, and the pearl is the offspring of a lowly oyster. ^C Would that the dull-wittedness of men might perish, which is accustomed to value the good by good fortune and the wicked, on the contrary, by bad misfortune. O miserable needy ones, a race beset by sorrows, together with wealth and mournful gold, you are stripped of every beauty and glory of virtue! And how can this world, itself subject to the evil one, create any good? Christ sings of this. ^D Alas, how great is the power of weeping from the mouth of Heraclitus, and how great the laughter from the mouth of Democritus! He lamented the foolish crimes of the world, while the other burst the fools with clear guffaws. In truth, with regard to these men, one ought to laugh and weep for them both, by turns. But who will give to me, in place of a resonant trumpet, a flexible tongue into the sea of song, that I, standing upon the high peak of Parnassus, might gather a great voice without cessation, singing these things ready to be spoken to rich men: "O wealthy ones, toward what metal do you hasten? On what path, O miserable ones, do you tread your tearful way? The riches of this transient earth are a fading progeny, of which the wicked enjoy the greater part; why do you always add new things to your base wealth? The purple of august honor is an invention of a dog, as are lust and the pearl of the lowly oyster. The sum of it is that marble stones are but flat rocks made of lime and wood, magnificent in their adornment, and the house is of fired brick and quarried marble."

^A Well then, why have you said such things, you savage mouth? Silence, silence, wretch; you do not speak correctly. For to trace the depths of God’s judgments, not even Paul has the power.

I. Verses of Theodore Prodromos on the coronation of Alexios Komnenos

^B You have placed, saying to God concerning your own head, you have placed, saying, a crown made of precious stones. You asked for a long life, you gave it; you shall give it yet, and the rest that belongs to the sacred lyre of the hymn-singer. Rejoice, solemn chambers, palaces of the Romans, noble by nature, flourishing by nature, possessing beautiful shoots, bringing them forth to those who follow, boasting, being happy: the child of the sovereign and the sovereign child of a sovereign father.

This brilliant festival of the crown-wearers, occurring today on the acropolis of Rome, requires an illustrious orator, a tongue of great speech. For we need an orator, a herald of broad voice, with a sublime proclamation, with a ringing voice, crying out and saying: "Men, O Romans, assemble with haste, come, let us rejoice together, come, let us celebrate the festival, all of us together in one body! While David leads the dance and strikes first with his beautiful, spirit-moved lyre, playing something beautiful and great today in anticipation; sing, O prophet-king, to the king of the Romans, from the beautiful songs of your singing, and say thus: 'The queen stands, O king, at thy right hand, clothed in royal raiment,' ^C and ^D [the rest is missing].

[alt-version omitted]

^C Sun of new Rome, beam of great light, image of the archetype of all things created, you who in speed equal the giant morning star, if you give warmth, if you give life, if you govern all things by your providence; if you increase, if you lead undertakings to their end; if you investigate all things, sun and sun, paired light-bearing stars, father and son, emperors porphyrogenitus, saviors of new Rome, glory of the high towers, endowed with equal speed, eloquence, and honor; great men, shed light upon the peoples with a benevolent mind. I cry out, however, in the name of the people from afar: Long live he whom today the magnificent crown of glory has adorned. For we have flocked to your coronation, peoples, cities, with musical instruments and hymns to celebrate this festival; and not only the entire army and the countless people, but the whole senate, the whole council, the whole band of priests, the great pastor, the helper, the approver, who brings all things to speed, who desires also the best things, who pours out prayers to God for your head, who have put on a crown of precious stones. ^D He begged for long life: you gave it, nay, you shall give even beyond that gift, also the hymns of the lyre resounding with sacred songs. Rejoice, beautiful chambers, you who bring forth for the Romans children of a genuine, noble, and illustrious stock; you who bestow upon posterity the offspring of a royal father. The brilliant panegyric of the coronation stands today in the citadel of Rome; it needs an illustrious orator, a tongue of resounding speech. Now let the herald cry out with a loud voice: "Men of Rome, assemble as quickly as possible; let us indulge in joy; let us celebrate the panegyric with one mouth. Let David lead the procession with the cithara, which, blown by the Spirit, plays a beautiful song today in anticipation: sing, O kingly prophet, a sublime song in honor of the king of the Romans, saying: 'The queen, O king, stands at thy right hand, clothed in royal raiment, fringed with gold.' Sing, O prophet, in your song: 'Hearken, O daughter, and incline thine ear; forget thy father's rule, thy race, and thy kin, that thou mightest be joined in marriage to John, emperor of the Romans,' who seeks thy hand, that which surpasses every human condition. Thus David sang, playing the cithara. But you, O kind queen, having heard and seen the northern peoples, were moved, joined by the bond of love.

^A You have reached, you have found, you have taken; you were lifted from the earth, you were raised above the vast ether, to the sphere without stars. You came, you joined the ranks of the powerful Romans, a living moon, beautiful and full of light, for the sun does not begin to give light from the northern parts, and end in the southern and hide itself in the earth, and bathe in the great currents of the Ocean, as is the custom to shine forth and illuminate life; but from the purple of the majestic one, he began from there to give life to the four-part life and the rule of the Ausonians; and he gives light with a brilliant radiance, not only illuminating the beginning of the Ausonians by day, but even in the middle of nights, and in those moonless ones; bestowing life upon his subjects like the day, illuminating, adorning, and establishing them with his rays. Rejoice, be glad, O daughter, sing with the cithara; with the cithara, O David, of the spirit-moved one, you inclined, you saw, you led the king of the Romans to the beauty, O mistress, of your own radiance, and you brought in the solemnities of your race and the ancestral glory and the choir of virtues which dance around you like delicate maidens, singing and chanting and applauding with you, ^B weaving a rhythmical dance with tender fingers. Sing, O prophet, to her at the festival: "Hear, see, O daughter, and incline your ear; forget your ancestral rule, your people, your race, so that you may have the emperor of the Romans as one who desires your beauty, and you may find his favor, a marriage beyond all human desire."

Lady of all the nations of the West, by father, by mother, by kinship. The Alamanni, the race of the king on the Rhine, tremble before you; the nations of the Germans cower before your power; to you the Diocleans and the Dacian nations bring gifts, and the掠ra-loving Peraebi, the Dalmatians, and the Galatians, the Lombards, and the Genoese, and the Calabrians with the Africans; the Aetnean fire of the Sicilians trembles at your authority, and the summits of the Tyrrhenians and the foothills of the mountains. The Gallic race, all tribes and tongues, tremble before you, as many as are around Charybdis, as many as are around Scylla, and around the Ligurian voyage and both Syrtes. You rule over the Deucri, you hold sway over the Huns and Pannonians. ^C I hear that the British islands supplicate you. Do all the majestic daughters of kings not go before you and prepare your way? Your countenance is supplicated by the whole senate, and the wealth of the people is strongly armed for you. But O seven-hilled Sion, younger daughter of ancient Rome, house of my emperors, happy, glorious one of the most beautiful sons of men, embrace the king and wrap yourself around me, sing of your savior, your emperor. Break forth in voice for joy, break forth for gladness; set up a festive choir, sing of the salvation. You have been preserved unharmed from plunder, before the eyes of all the nations placed, hoped for.

^A From a myriad host gathered from the nations, with a father, a gentle child, the master of the new Rome. Honor him, sing with song and with haste. Proclaim upon the high walls, on the tops of the mountains, the emperor’s counsel, the magnanimity. Such were those we had to see, O Romans, glorious lords born of the purple, pleasant to behold, pleasant to speak of, pleasant to converse with, defenders, saviors of the city, champions, protectors, lords from among lords, princes from among emperors, reformers of ancient customs and privileges, among whom the throne is sacred, among whom is the scepter, as an ancestral possession, as an inheritance. ^B For even if Claudius seems to the Romans great in the chorus of kinsmen who succeed to the scepter, wise and majestic in the choral dance and in the procession of the kin of those of the scepter, yet Isaac will be judged to think higher things, a height great for the Comneni, those from the land of the sun. And Constantine Ducas with him, emperor, and after him Alexius, the great ruler of the Romans, escorted by many kin who hold the scepter. From whom has blossomed for us from the noble purple a father and son, the kings, the guards, the saviors of a great and much-happy, well-fortified people. But, O ye noble and great branches of the beautiful purple, prosperity for the Romans, for the Eastern Romans, glorious lords, scions of great roots, of great and golden roots, of thick-stemmed roots, emulate brilliantly the contests of Alexius, be inscribed toward his ways; be seen as bright imitations of the archetypes, imprinted in yourselves in perfect likeness; be seen brighter than the trophies up ^C as far as Gades and the double race of the Ethiopians; from whom to some there is dwelling in the west of the sun, and to others toward the first flashes, the first rays of the sun, as it shall be allowed to find in the verses of Homer, may the glory of the herald come, proclaiming the sun. I pray for the best, the most beautiful, the most excellent through the father for the son, the scepter and the power, and this in cycle and for a long time for my masters.

II. Verses by the same on Emperor John, returning victoriously from the Persians

When he was about to capture Caesarea also, had not famine and the winter ill-affected both the cavalry and the army. Again a struggle for the orators, a match for the rhetoricians, a contention for the versifiers more intense than before, again a musical paean of royal trophies, and again a hymn of the virtue and fortune of the Comneni. Come, O my tongue, bring forth noble words; gird yourself, O hand, for writing; move, O fingers! We shall indeed write nothing worthy of the present victories, nor shall we reach in any way the glory of these things; yet, even so, the eagerness alone must be offered. Not yet has nature perceived the coming of spring; not yet have we seen the start of February, the most biting and coldest of months, and warmth has come to us and the melting of the winter. Not yet does the tree bloom, not yet does the plant put on its foliage, and the heart of the faithful blooms and bears fruit in all. Not yet do young lambs leap in the green grass, and the souls of the Ausonians leap and bound, filled with your solar rays, O king. Behold, Persian chieftain, barbarian, dog of an Ishmaelite, the Comnenian glory; see how the Roman army prevails.

^A For, without horse and fodder, and without rations, parched, traveling on foot, unwashed, dying of starvation—to the point of even having to resort to a base consumption of horseflesh—it has vanquished you, the well-fed, the well-horsed, and has submerged you in the currents of the Lycus. What then will you do, wretched Muhamet, and what will you suffer, when he encounters you with horse and fodder? O wolf-beast in the rivers, insatiable, all-devouring, rapacious, plunderous, most gluttonous animal, you have now gorged yourself on food, you have now feasted on flesh, you have now stained your jaws with the gore of much blood, you have now filled your insatiable and ravenous belly—not with innocent lambs, nor with the sheep of Rome, but with impious goats and Persian kids; you have swallowed so many of them slaughtered for the Comnenian, that, unable to bear the excessive burden of the food, truly your movements are those of the far-shining sun: fire-bearer you appear to your enemies, light-bearer to your servants. You made the spring day dawn for Rome, and you kindled the summer flame for Persia. You dried up the barbarian like clay; you spread out the noble [cause] like clay. In the same days that you departed from Byzantium, in those you have entered here victorious, having completed your annual course like the sun. You, too, looked upon the Comnenian, O region of the Caesareans and all the land of the Cappadocians trodden by barbarians; he did not shake your cities with many siege engines, but with naked spears, but with naked swords, he broke your phalanxes and your camps. ^A You saw him fighting the haughty Persia, not with distant skirmishes, but in close formation. What then do you say, having looked upon such splendor? Do you confess that you have lost your powers of sight? Or is it that a greater flash of lightning visits you? What will the cities honor first in you, Comnenian? What of your good deeds will Rome sing of second? For you are for us king and great general, and a mighty soldier, or rather, many soldiers; for you, with your most sweet porphyrogenite branches, ^B do battle for us and for our salvation, and you have offered your soul and the souls of your children, that you might redeem the common good, that you might save the world. May God add entire ages to your scepter, whose mercy and philanthropy you also imitate, that humanity may be saved, that the servant may be delivered. God did not send an ambassador to those below, not seraphim, not cherubim, not thrones, not powers, but the Emmanuel himself, the Word who is above word, he sent down from heaven for our sake. Imitating him, O King John, you arm your most beloved and last son, Manuel, for us servants against the Persians, and through him you kill the opposing fate, and you raise the Roman state as if from the depths of Hades. You trust in a fine bulwark, you are confident in a fine ally, O porphyrogenite king, Comnenian-glowing light-bearer. You acquired a fine guardian and co-general, she who surrendered to you the reins of the empire from the beginning, and who preserves the power happily even now, and who bestows upon you brilliant victories everywhere, the true victory-maker, the all-holy Virgin.

^A With her help, you cross through rivers otherwise impassable in winter, And with a small army you rout myriads, Marching on foot as if mounted, and while they are sated, you are fasting.

O how I worship, O King, your entire panoply, Which you have worn for ten thousand nights, And in the midst of the earth have worked salvation in the manner of the Psalmist. How I worship your helmet, your breastplate, your belt, I kiss your golden spear, I embrace your sword, I kiss your shafts, I revere your bow, The Arabian horse which bore you, I honor and worship and kiss even to the ultimate hoof; For by these, by these I am saved, by these I move the Persian; By these I rout the enemies, I defeat the foreigners. O how much land you have measured, O guardian of the Romans, How many craggy and rough and ravine-filled places, How many ascents and narrow passes, how many thicket-overgrown lands; O how much hardship, O how many labors you have endured, So that we the faithful might live well and free from toils In your gold-embroidered and glistening hearth, And in the royal luxury, and the brilliant things of the state, While you spend the night under the open sky, an armed knight, Burning in the heat, having no water to drink; And yet you endure all these things for the sake of us servants. Receive me again, Byzantium, receive me, new Rome, And these multi-flowered crowns just woven With which the noble King has crowned you; He indeed having bloodied his hands with the thorns, But you, having woven them from pure roses, Which he gathered having gone into the gardens of the Caesars;

^A And having been adorned radiantly and having been made all-bright Like a new and beautiful bride with the beauty of their products, Give back to him prayers and thanks. For what other reciprocal return could you bestow upon him? O the brilliant course of the greatest king! O how much road you have traveled, and how far have you advanced, And how far have you planted the Roman standard! Perhaps you will drive even unto the pillars of Heracles, And reach beyond Gades and outstrip Thule, And the terrible cataracts of the Nile, And you will come even to the scorched zone itself, And if you wish, you will sail around the Dead Sea, And having done all things successfully, you will run back with victories; For you have God as a helper, and who could oppose you?

^B Save for me the scepter of the Comneni, save, O venerable purple, Who has given birth for us to such great saviors; From Alexius indeed, that one of old, that all-powerful one, This grace-named master John, The true defender of the Christ-named clergy, The true destroyer of the tribes of foreigners; And from him the sacred purple-clad tetrad, The imitations of the father, the manifest images, Through whom I both worship and revere the quaternity, And to you, not honoring the Pythagorean laws. Hail, Porphyrogenitus, third sebastokrator, Not in the lowering of honor, but of age, Cub of the brave lion, fledgling of the golden peacock, Child of the high-flying falcon, traversing the ether, From an army-leader a general, a noble soldier, Image of the fatherly habits and graces, And of the sturdy arm and the strong palm; You have shown whose plant and root you happen to be,

By having frightened the Persians with a shout alone, And having driven them to shameful rout and flight. Embrace, Byzantium, your nursing-children, Greet your foster-sons, wash your victors ^A, Who for your sake, the nurse and mother Rome, And for the secret faith toward the sovereign, Subjected themselves even unto death; And having slain myriads of the opposing side, They returned to you as victors with brilliant trophies, Unwounded, most of them, though some with wounds; Yet not death-wounds, according to the writing, For God and the emperor’s fortune guarded them. O branch of wild olive from an olive-tree of choice, And luckless slip of a most fortunate tree, Who alone appeared a thorn in the much-wooded garden, And alone most senseless in a wise lineage, Unworthy of the calling, unworthy of the lineage, Ungrateful in your ways, even if you bear a graceful name; Again you remembered debts, you remembered the cauldrons, And that familiar Persian intemperance, And you desert to the enemies, abandoning your kin. Why did a mother bear you? Why did a father beget you? I testify by you, the great circle of heaven, And by you, the earth, the uninhabited and the inhabited, And by the vast air, and the depths of the sea, And by you, the substance of fire, the cosmic elements! Was ever heard in any age such an autocrat Having all delights, every form of luxury, Yet despising it all for the sake of his subjects, Hungering for the common good, enduring the clear sky, ^A And the dense snow and the terrible winds, And covering everything with spiritual, adamantine labors? Why am I not consumed by lightning? Why am I not cast to beasts? Why am I not pelted by hail? Why am I not drowned in the abyss? Why does not the mouth of the earth open and swallow me? The king hungered for me, the slave. The king hungered, while I was gorged; The king was cold, while I was warmed; The king was in the open air, while I was sheltered. The mighty Comnenus endured such sufferings, But the wretched Prodromus, the humble one, lived in luxury. What virtue of a king could be greater than these? You heard, aged Babylon, the misfortunes of Persia, And how much the lord Comnenus has done to her; And with your soul shrunken and filled with fear, You offer to serve him in servile fashion; You bend your neck to him, you confess to serve, And you render tribute to the newer Rome. Truly the counsel of age is a prudent plan; Both serve and worship, lest you suffer the fate of Persia. But to you, O king, may the Divine grant long ages, Like the ages of heaven and the cycles of the sun.

III. By the same, a paean on the royal wedding to the peoples

^A for the first of your good deeds? When away, you enslave the barbarian tribes, but when present, you decorate the bridal chamber and weave festivities, ever bestowing joy upon joy. God alone shall return the reward to you. Hail, O bride, far-shining and most royal, bearing the all-venerable quality of your stock from a triple lineage, ^B splendid in soul and most beautiful in body, a fair branch of a fair and goodly olive tree. You have been joined to a groom who is in all things the best, young, handsome, noble, a high-spirited soldier, virtuous in all things, and beautiful, and well-ordered. How those who have brought him to you should rejoice! And these things are indeed splendid on your part, O bridegroom. But the bridal chamber, the bed, and the wedding procession—the good has doubled for you, it has been multiplied for you! For you have been joined to the Comnenian line itself, and you have luckily found the most brilliant partner of your life, ^C incomparable in all things, a house of all graces, both those of soul and body and those of fortune. And may you also rejoice for a long time, even to the end of old age. Adorn also the festival of the nuptial preparations, and preside over the wedding of your brother’s child, O king born of an emperor, light from a great sun, ^D shining upon these others from the preceding torch-bearers, and upon the father. Do not only imitate his virtues and zeal for his struggles, and the tireless and noble labors for the Ausonians; but you also join in brightening the present wedding, gold-linked chain of the sebastokrators: the excellent Andronikos, the prudent heart, the divine Isaakios, the flower of the peers, and Manuel the wondrous, the zealous youth, three rays of the powerful Comnenian-light despot. ^A And what ceremony could be greater than the present one, over which such and so great a king presides, brightening his diadem with the beauty of his triumphs and, with his manly deeds, intertwining his crown anew? Surely this would be the first of festivals and the most eminent of all public celebrations. Increase, O scepter of the Comneni, and expand, O divine race, a golden, heroic, royal and great race; and from the union with more illustrious families, bring forth offspring from offspring, children from children, common protectors of the pious, common bulwarks of Rome, and fill the whole earth with your nursing. ^B IV. By the same, for another royal wedding, a paean to the people. And again, returning to us from the battle, O purple-born king, scepter-holder, conqueror, you celebrated splendid and truly royal weddings; and now, setting out for the battle against the Persians, you celebrate an exquisite wedding, weaving a golden bridal chamber ^C and bestowing all kinds of graces upon your servants. O infinite grace of the conquering emperor! Again a royal festival, again royal weddings, and again the Sun of the Ausonians, the cosmic torch-bearer, the victor, the Comnenian, Lord John, sheds light upon them clearly and brightly, sending forth beams of virtue, beams of noble deeds, various and all sorts of fires of grace. Do not set, O Sun of Rome, do not set for the ages. In how many ways, O king, do you benefit the world.

^A And once more, having brought them down and humbled them, you conquer, you capture, you are a trophy-bearer, you despoil, you excel, you bring the Persian into servitude, you cause the Scythian to bow, you place the neck of the Parthian and Syrian under our yoke, and every other various and all-armed national force. You arrange the marriage, you bring the bride to your children, you provide many-shaped graces to your city. Again both divine families have come together to the same place, the Comneni and the Ducae, into the communion of marriage; again they have been grafted together into one growth, a beautiful branch of the Comneni to a beautiful branch of the Ducae, both fair and admirable and flourishing and young, and blooming with virtue and flowering together. Hail to me, O bride radiant from afar, O bride best of brides, royal in soul, royal in body; as you have found a bridegroom worthy of all things, beautiful to the beautiful, revered to the revered, fair to the fair, becoming to those of his own age, the wonder of his peers, thrice-noble to the noble, a young man to a young girl. And what other such grace of marriage could there be? Did it not befit you, O admirable and most beautiful bridegroom, bearing such beauty and such decorum, not to be joined in marriage to the fairest of women? Whence you have been fortunate in her as no one else in another, and you appear together wonderfully in this union, as ivy around the plane tree and a vine-shoot around the laurel, as the pearl around the purple, and as the nightingale around the garden, and light around the lamp. Hail, most radiant light-bringer of the whole earth, O grace-named Master, bright trophy-bearer. Hail, and advance against the enemies and again those of the East, ^B and again, having made for your power those who are three times vile, enter in rejoicing to us with radiant trophies; and again arrange radiant other marriages for the children of your grandsons and for their children, unto the tenth generation and the fifteenth, and live unto the entire course of the ages.

V. — By the same, to the most victorious Emperor, Lord John Comnenus

Many of those who worship you, O Emperor of the whole world, hindered me with untimely declamations. For on all sides they summon me to applause and to joys with these words: "Fortune has blessed your life; cease your laments, do not despair, but be mindful of your friends, since you are fortunate." One places many years in vows for you, as someone who is a man not only ^C in hand, at which another shouts aloud and truthfully, "Your fortune has made your life bloom; do not henceforth lament, do not henceforth be downcast, but, being fortunate and happy, remember also your friends." And another, wishing for your power a long span of time, as not only mighty for battles and wars, another from elsewhere shouting with great joy, "As it is true, the common saying, 'do not run having luck,' and you not running, Prodromus, have found your own luck"; another saying, "Prepare the mangers of the stables, head-pieces and bits embroidered in silver and gold, and acquire many servants, and gain bodyguards, and put away your poverty and philosophy, and the filthy and rotten and hole-ridden garments, and, drawing together, slough off old age like a serpent, and put on a new skin, and gain new limbs; for God granting, and the Mother of God aiding,

^A you have given to your verses—those new and fresh ones— He pledged to these his soul, he obeyed gladly, He loved, praised the worker of the verses, Pitying him as needy, he promised to make him rich, To provide for you great and wealthy means of life, And to rescue you from bitter and harsh poverty. Hearing these blessed rumors, O King, My soul became gracious, my heart was gladdened, And first, I prayed for you cycles of long ages, Because, enduring so many labors for the Ausonians, And suffering for the common good and enduring ten thousand trials, And measuring your soul against untold anxieties, How you might bend all the proud necks of the barbarians To the yoke of Roman fortune, And capture the entire alien land by force, And enslave the rest of the nations, And taking no truce from them, Yet you lend an ear to my flimsy words, And humanely answer my trifles, And such a great and most kingly hearing You incline with small and poor verses, Christ-imitatingly; O abyss of kingly, supreme philanthropy! Perhaps you even surpass the breadth and depth of the seas, And all the great Ocean besides. First then, as I said, I prayed for your power, Then with that multitude of ineffable joy, As if falling into a trance and my senses numbed; For the magnitude of joy, just as surely as grief, Both are of a nature to unsettle the composure of the mind. ^B And they cloud the cognitive faculties of the soul. I thought I held in my hands what had been promised, I expected to travel the road on horseback; For perhaps I expected to have horses faster Than the winds, and far swifter than Arab horses; Lacking a copper stater, the most trivial of coins, I supposed I possessed whole minas of gold, I called for slaves to come forward as though they were bought; And to one I entrusted the care of the horses, To another, the matters of luxury and cup-bearing, To another, the care of the silk garments, Which the best opinion had woven for me as it were; I even set a doorkeeper at the gate of the entrance; To sum it all up, in one single hour I, the wretched one, suspected myself to be all-fortunate, And of a blessed dream from which I was enriched! But when I was carried into sleep, and after some time I awoke and was freed from the drunkenness, And from the long stupor and the great madness, And again I perceived my own poverty, And again I knew myself to be wretched as I was at first, Not having been able to comprehend this matter, Nor to examine well the things of the Gospels, I approach your all-holy power boldly, And slavishly I bow to you, I entreat with fear, That you might truly release me from the things of doubt, And clearly set forth the words of those who spoke: ^C For were they deceiving me, and speaking while joking, And were all their promises a lie? Or did the matters of the word proceed to them in truth, And did God move your holy heart To pity, to the relief of a man suffering greatly, Trusting only in God and your venerable power? Do you wish, King, that I anticipate your defense?

Whether the word be false or true, give me a helping hand, deem me worthy of mercy; and may God grant you a long life, and more brilliant trophies and victory upon victory, and may He bestow upon you rule over all that is under the sun, from the western Ethiopians to those in the east, from the western climates to the Europeans, and to the furthest ends of the Asian land.

VI. — By the same, to the Emperor as he goes out against the Persians for the tenth time.

^A Lament, barbarians; rejoice, Romans. Sons of the Persians, wail; sons of the faithful, applaud. Sons of Hagar, mourn; sons of Rome, let us be glad. For again the mighty guardian of the Ausonians, The ornament of the purple, the pride of the emperors, Campaigning for us and for our salvation, Again leads his men-at-arms and readies his phalanxes, And again hastens to bring low the pride of the Persian, And to cast down his arrogant brow, And to subject all his territory to the wolves: O great, raving dog, O blood-thirsty beast, O Persian, The sun of the Ausonians, the light-bearer of the world, Brought upon you a radiant sun in winter; But this you did not bear, nor love, nor withstand, Nor were you able even to look upon it at all. Now there attacks you a complete summer sun, fiery and blazing. And how, wretch, will you bear such brilliance? How, being so soon blinded, will you—having lightly ^B fluttered— Have dried up like clay by the excess of the light? And how will you withstand, O miserable one, such a beacon? Prepare again your barbarian neck For the sword sharpened terribly by the Comnenus, Until he destroys and annihilates you, And casts you down to the very depths of death. Prepare your backs for arrows, and again Prepare your children and your whelps For crushing and servitude and for captivity. Prepare your cities and your tents For capture and sack and to be the tents of the Romans; For God has roused the Comnenus once again To avenge the faithful and to bring ruin upon Persia. You were not born luckily, it seems, Mahumet, Nor did any radiant sun shine upon you then, Nor did any kindly star shine upon you, ^C But in those very times you were born, And some deadly fate followed you. And for this reason you received the Comnenus as a goad, Who will not allow you to rest your life for a moment, Plundering you and spoiling you and killing and capturing you. Now you shall pay, barbarian, and now you shall repay Twofold and fourfold and manifold in measure The things you did to the faithful, the things your ancestors did; For with a God-moved impulse and a God-driven rush The victor, the Emperor John, campaigns against you again, Again he camps, He moves up a dense array of shields, he readies a dense spear, He gathers much Arab cavalry, swift-footed, Against you he bursts forth like lightning and a thunderbolt, And who shall withstand his arrival? Having so often, O Persian, dealt insolently towards God, And having so often been met with the long-suffering of Him, ^D Behold, you have stirred Him up against your own head, As a mighty one, and one who reels, according to the prophecy,

^A to mix for you the dregs of His own wrath, And to drench the tips of His arrows in your putrefaction, And to satiate the sword from your own flesh, And to raise up the horn of the Christ-named people By the hand of the most mighty King Comnenus.

Direct and guide, divine light of the Ausonians, The greatest good fortune of the newer Rome; And may every nation worship your power. Let ancient Babylon serve your scepter, ^B Let the neck of Egypt fall before your feet, Let the ends of India bring you tributes. Cross every river, sail every continent; Level the one with the bones of barbarians, Drench the other with the blood of these same, And rule over every land and island and sea. Hear, boundless heaven, attend me, earth, mother of all, And lords of the stars, sun and moon; For I call you as witnesses of the things that concern me. This is just, this is just, it has the nature of justice, That the master Comnenus should bestow benefits upon all, And should scatter his alms even upon the rocks, And should break his bread for both birds and fishes, Yet withhold his mercy from poor Prodromus; Who, after God, trusts in his majesty, And in this alone attaches the anchors of his life. Why do you do this, you victor of myriads, bringer of myriad victories, raiser of trophies? Do you campaign against the enemies and again those of the East, Do you yourself sharpen the sword, whet the spear, ^C And lead the commander of the army against the foes, But Prodromus, who bravely proclaims your deeds, do you abandon to the enemy, to cruel poverty, as to one in the death-throes? Do not do this, O King, by your trophies I implore you; but having destroyed the internal enemy, make me strong against the external. But O most high King of kings, and Lord of lords, And King of kings, and Ruler of rulers, Guard the porphyry-born master John, The autocrat of the earth, the great autocrat; Guard also his porphyry-clad children, And subdue every barbarian neck to him, By the prayers of the maiden-mother who bore you, Whom he also has as a fellow-commander and a great ally, And grant him also spiritual salvation at the end.

VII. - By the same, an entrance-poem for the bride from the Alamanni 1 betrothed to the porphyry-born lord Manuel and Sebastocrator.

There is not, nor has there ever been, another of the autocrats Like you, O magnificent protector of the Romans, God-fearing in things of God, philanthropic toward servants, Warlike toward nations, loving toward his children; You consecrate to God temples both many and great, And a multitude of other holy and brilliant votive offerings; You always extend an enriching hand to your servants,

[The Latin rendering follows the same content: [alt-version omitted]] ^D

nations, and for the sons of men, And you lead in marriage for your children the most beautiful of wives; Just as now for Manuel, your beloved child, You have joined this royal maiden from the West, Over whom we are celebrating today the entry rites. Rejoice with me, O new Rome, in the present entry rites, By which you are shown to be the head of elder Rome. For if she gives the bride, and you the bridegroom, And we all know the husband to be the head of the wife, It is clear that you must join and agree to this, And become her head and a member with her; And thenceforth all things bow to the Comnenian power. Such a sovereign you have, O most noble new Rome, That in this way your affairs take hold of victories against the enemies, ^B And are adorned by a mind of profound counsel. May your life's journey, O Emperor, be made, Running in parallel with the courses of the giant sun. O young branch of Manuel of the holy purple, And ornament of the most felicitous Sebastocracy, Whelp of the most bold Lion, whose growl alone Routs the haughty Persian, throttles Babylon, And checks the flow of the rivers in their forward course; Lift up your great eye from the midst of Isauria, And behold Byzantium brilliantly adorned For the new feast of the entry rites Of the noble and most beautiful maiden, Whom her father and King has joined in marriage to you, While with an armed guard they escort her; And be poured out clearly upon what is being performed. O great Prince of old and elder Rome, most noble in lineage, O illustrious Conrad, And most brilliant relative of those who are guarded by lances, You have now surpassed them in honor, you have now been rendered more noble, Since you have been grafted into the Comnenian lineage, And have been seen as a kinsman of such a great Emperor; Therefore, also rejoice with us and sing along with the maiden, Now indeed with the musical entry songs, And not long after, with the help of God, the bridal ones, Upon the Lord having returned to us with victories. Behold, O best of women, from the present glory Of the peoples escorting you and those arming the guards, And from the brilliant preparation and the gold-bearing, From the mingled shouting of the musical instruments, Of the Arabian woods and the showering of perfumes, Give thought to the future, judge these very nuptials; And having filled your soul with unspeakable gladness, Embrace the women who have come to meet you, And pay homage, even if he is absent, to the most powerful Sovereign, Who transplanted a lovely vine from the West, And planted it in the royal gardens, As one intertwined and grown together with the branch of this man.

VIII. — A poem by the same, to the Lord John Comnenus, the victorious Emperor, when he was setting out for the tenth time against the Persians.

^A World-ruler, destroyer of Persians, slayer of the Scythian-Dalmatian, you who lead the Isaurians into servitude, subduer of the Cilicians, dismantler of the pride of the Italians and Latins, enslaver of Parthia and of the luxury of Syria, ^B Threatener of the great ancient Babylon, terror of the grand Egyptian kingdom, and humbler of every tongue and tribe of barbarians, broad and mighty scepter, thick and fruitful scepter, regeneration of the Romans, remodeling of the Ausonians, and wonder to those under heaven in matters of generalship, seeing your equipment and your preparation, and the vigor of your advance toward the campaign, the assembly of the army, the preparation of the weapons, the bodyguards, the cavalry and the mounted archers, the heavy-armed, the light-armed, and the very banner-bearers, the varied rigging of the wooden engines, and the sharpness and urgency of the battle—I stand balanced between wonder, grief, and joy. I marvel at the indefatigable strength of your body, and the triple-adamantine power of your limbs, and the unconquerable resilience of your flesh in labors. I marvel at how many hardships you have endured in wars, with how much heat you have wrestled, how much cold you have borne, how many inaccessible and narrow places you have traversed, how many winters you have spent in the open air, and how many summers you have endured, how many days you have spent fasting, how many nights without sleep, how many rivers you have crossed on foot and on horseback, deep and roaring and wave-tossed ^C rocks, pelted by hail, filled with showers, and thickened by frost and wrestling with snow-drifts—you gave no rest to your temples, no sleep to your eyelids, according to the Psalm. But again you rush out against the enemies, and again there is a yearning for battle in you, and again you march out, again you sharpen the sword, again you whet the spear, you don your armor, act as bodyguard, take up the shield, and having placed the royal headband on your head, you immediately grasp the fearsome helmet, considering the work of a ruler—and more so, of an emperor—to be not luxury and indulgence and concern for passing pleasures, but to toil and labor for those under your hand. Although you are even suffering in your noble body and seeing the winter season and the freezing weather, you do not even then cease your impulse and the heat of the race. ^D Why then, O Emperor, are we sick, in poor health, and on guard against the blowing winds, while you, though sick, are commanding and slaying, and in the face of winter are bearing at once both sickness and burdens of barbarians? You are waging a triple war, you are tempering a triple battle. Is your hand forged of bronze, is your arm of iron? Have your fingers been hewn from solid stone? Do you have joints of limbs of adamant? Do you bear a divine body, impassive and tireless? Yesterday you returned to us, yesterday you returned, O Sovereign, from delicate Syria, from Phoenicia, from Phere, Chaleb, and Pharton, from Babylon itself.

^A With drought, sweat, and panting, and sprinkled with dust, you did not quench your thirst in Chaleb with water; you did not manage to wipe away the Persian sweat, nor did you collect your breath from the Syrian travels; you did not manage to wash off the dust of the Cilicians, nor did you dry your tunics, which performed acrobatics in the Sangarius, in the wind or the sun's rays. And again, battles and armies and encampments!

To whom shall we compare you for your patience in toils? Atlas, a man in ancient tales, is represented holding up long columns that support the world. Yet they say that even he grew weary of the weight and set down that burden of columns, and by placing Heracles under the load, he provided that one a brief respite from his labor. But you carry the entire bulk of the inhabited world, and besides that, you bear the anxieties of strategy. Alone you endure the weight, needing no Heracles, and you shall endure it until far-distant ages under your sturdy limbs and resilient shoulders.

We have known the rising of the radiant sun, but we have also learned of his fading and setting. For he lights up the entire earth with ineffable rays, but he is also covered by clouds and fades away completely; he struggles while driving the daylight contests, but he is also washed in the flowing waters of Ocean at night. But you rise forever and know no setting, nor may you ever know one until the ends of your life. And if ever you should need, in the due season, to bathe, ^B know that fire is tireless, if it has a supply of fuel, yet it also needs the wind that fans it and raises up its burning force; it is extinguished also by the flowing of moist matter. But you burn up the impious, incinerate the godless, and melt them like lead, burn them like straw, needing no external wind to fan you. For the great and divine Spirit that lives with you and indwells you is sufficient for you to kindle the fire against your enemies; by Him you are fanned to incinerate all enemies and to infest every foreign land and city. And you are not at all extinguished by the pagan seas, even if they were to mingle about one ebb and whirlpool.

The river also descends and the torrent is set in motion ^C with a loud rushing sound and a sharp course, and it undermines stones somewhere, and tears up roots and trees; but if some very large tree or a cursed stone happens to fall in the middle, it checks the flow. But you, O ocean of graces and river of trophies, nothing ever stops the force of your advance for battles. No injury preceding you, no intervening disease, no winter season, no frost, no rain, not the depth of summer, nor the flames of the dog-star, nor the difficulty of roads, nor narrow straits; but looking only to the matter of victory, and to the expansion of your inheritance, you march like a lion, confident, against the foreigners, ^D scorning all obstacles together, trusting in the Virgin who is your co-general and ally, through whom you return from every assault with victory.

^A I revolve all these things in my mind and am filled with amazement at the spirit and the force with which you attack your enemies. But at the same time my heart is bitten by great sorrow, because your people are deprived of the pleasure of seeing you for any length of time, and are robbed of your company and conversation. For in three whole years they have barely seen you for one little moment, and before they could gaze at you more clearly, you have been snatched away again, and having looked up a little at your beacon, before they were fully illuminated, they were immediately blinded, and before they could take you with their hands, you have been plundered away from them. You have not even had time to cleanse your sword, stained with Isaurian, Cilician, and Parthian gore, and already you are grasping it again to sprinkle it anew with blood. You have not had time to set your helmet down from your brow and wipe away the royal, holy sweat, and you are already hastening to sweat anew. Yes indeed, and even the briefest moment of your presence filled your city with countless graces. Every man who had been wronged saw you and was vindicated by you; every man who was in need saw you and was enriched by you. You established a noble contest of the four-horse chariot, a public festival for the whole commonwealth, which I judge, my master, to be a prophet of your good fortune and of the complete victory you are about to have over your enemies. You have arranged the royal marriages brilliantly for your children, your nephews, and the children of your children; you have spread royal and brilliant public banquets; you have caused rivers of wine to flow into every lane, and you have set out every kind of fowl, as if from another rain. You have gladdened us not for the grumblers, but for the grateful, with every kind of quadruped and catch from every sea, in various forms of gifts.

But the haste of your expedition has extinguished the lamp of our total joy for us, and now we walk in the lusterless gloom of sorrow. Nevertheless, O Emperor, I rejoice over you in another way, and I am unable to bear the magnitude of the joy, considering the happy conclusions of your toils and foreseeing the ends of your struggles. And I become for you a Prodromos, the high priest of the prophets, and prophesying, I speak beforehand and announce: that every barbarian force will be subjected to you, and every foreign neck will be offered to you. Lands and cities, nations, and all shall serve you; and you shall put the dwelling of the proud Persian as a fruit-watcher’s hut in a vegetable garden, and as a desolate and lowly tent in a vineyard. But you will increase the vineyard of the New Rome, the vine-shoot up to the seas and the offshoots up to the greatest rivers, according to the prophecy. ^B And the glory of these new trophies of yours shall be greater than the first, O Emperor, both the new and the second, and we shall perform for you a glorious triumph, such as has never before occurred in the ages of old, neither in the Rome of the ancients, nor in Greece itself. And I, who say these things and proclaim them beforehand, shall write many volumes of victory-songs, in verse and prose alike, with which my care is filled.

Do you wish me to direct the voice of a Prodromos also to your enemies? "Offspring of vipers, repent now, for the heavenly kingdom has drawn near even to you; the victor, the Comnenus, the master John, the vine-dresser and crown-bearer, is near to us."

^A Having the winnowing fork in his hands, and the gleaming sword, he will purge the entire threshing floor of Persis; and those who have disobeyed, he will winnow like chaff, and will deliver them to the fire to be consumed; but those who have faithfully yielded, and sought refuge in the storehouse, he will stow away like useful wheat. Now I see the sword already positioned against your necks, the imperial sword, sharply honed, like a pruning axe at the root of the trees. Quickly bring forth fruit of obedience, lest you be cut down and delivered to the fire as food. These things I have prophesied to you and declared to you, O Christ-loving King of the land, John; looking toward your philanthropy and your love for God, and toward your charitable deeds for those in need, and your trust in the all-immaculate Virgin, stretch forth and prosper, King of the Romans, for the sake of your truth, your gentleness, your justice, and your philanthropy. Subjugate the barbarian, win, bring back trophies, seize the rapacious, slay the murderers, lay waste to the plunderers to the very ends of the earth, and bring every land, sea, and island into subjection. You have in wars an unconquerable ally, the Savior, who fashioned, crowned, and made you king; you have also the victory-bringing, most excellent co-commander, through whom all the barbarian world will serve you in submissive fashion; you have me, the Prodomus, your most fervent servant, now returning to you from the harsh desert, from which I beg you to rescue me; for I loathe the locusts, I loathe the bitter honey, the leather belt, and the coarse garment of camel hairs. I am become a voice crying out: what have I to do with the deserts? May your victories be multiplied for you, more than the sand of the sea, and the stars of heaven, and the leaves of the trees.

IX. By the same, to the grammarian Theodore the Stypiot

^B O best of grammarians, of students, and of friends, namesake of the writer, peer in measure to the divine, divine in soul, divine in heart, and of a king pious and most expert in command, such as the sun has not beheld until the present day, most faithful scribe and guardian of secrets, while you were still among the boys, even then writing drafts, and learning grammar, and paying attention to the poets, you were attached to my drafts, you were attached to my lines, and those of them most of all which were about the king. For you desired these intemperately, of these you had no satiety; you called these food, and nourishment, and drink; and while carelessly listening to other things, you rejoiced only in the discourses about the king, and in these you took delight, and in these you luxuriated, even if nowhere else I perhaps struck off a draft, or worked ^C a line, concerning some imperial Comnenian trophy: whether writing of the capture of Gangra, or the victory of Kastamon, or the total destruction of the unknown Scythians, or the slaughter of the Dalmatians, or their servile bondage, or the Persian subjugation, or the servile bondage, or the matters concerning the Danube, or those concerning the Halys, or the Celts yielding, or the Syrians worshipping, or the Bachenoi, or the Tarsians, or the Antiochenes.

^A Or if I had sung of the Chalepite war, or the Sezerite victory, or any one of the infinite number of Comnenian trophies, you would praise the narrative to the heavens, you would leap at the telling, you would rejoice in heart, and like one suckling honey you would say that one was eating ambrosia and divine and pleasant nectar, the very food of angels. But when the speaker ceased, you would be dejected, you would be indignant, and you would beg him to take up the refrain again. Such were you towards us in the early days.

But now, being present and remaining with the crown-bearer himself, and observing with your own eyes his strategies, and seeing with those same eyes the victories achieved in those events, the day-to-day trophies and feats of valor, the downfall of the nations, the glory of the Romans, seeing both land and sea and lakes enslaved—those lakes of infinite depth and infinite breadth, the ones before held by nations and Persians and the shares of foreigners, but now belonging to Rome and to the faithful and to our own lot, and subject to the Comnenian invincible dominion and to his sturdy arm and strong hand; ^B and in addition to these, observing also the cities of the Cilicians which, having once become a side-issue to the emperor’s sword, the Persians had stolen by stealth, but which have since reverted, having turned back again to the hand of Thomas—whom I call the emperor’s apostle, not a twin, nor a doubter like the first Thomas, but one simple and most faithful to the Lord Christ—to whom the thefts of the Persians have again returned, since they feared the nearness of the divine emperor and the passage thither of those who hold these things, and having fled from his wise and excellent foresight; ^C seeing the roaring of the lion, the sole ruler, by whom even rocks are rent and the sea is feared, and the currents of rivers are cut, and the whole earth is shaken—seeing these things at every hour, and more things than these, you alone rejoice in them, you alone delight in the sight. Do you not share this good thing with your friend Prodromos? Do you not take him as a partner in your pleasure? Do you not spur him on to writings, do you not urge him on to lines? Do you not sharpen my tongue and whet my mouth? Although you have known me well for a long time, as one who breathes only these praises of the emperor, from which source I have produced countless books of verses and prose and volumes in both styles, proclaiming the trophies of his reign; though I know them to be small and narrow compared to his worth, yet they are not lacking in the strength of my reason; my head of writing, my head of discourse, having left no trophy of the Comnenian master.

This is what you should write to us, this is what you should recount; so that, receiving from you the stimulus for our discourses, we may increase the letters, we may multiply the books which we chronicle, writing about the emperor; and we may write for all time the bright trophies added to trophies, until the most excellent scion of the sacred purple, the Comnenus from Comnenus, ^D lord from lord, holds sway from end to end. Write these things to me, and to the crown-bearer speak at every hour, I beseech you, of my poverty, for which he is my only defender, the guider of my life, my God after God, and the curator of my life.

The Comnenus from the Comnenus, the master from the master. In these alone I trust, to this one I look. If he gives me wherewith to eat, I have life once more; But if he gives not, I perish, I descend to Hades; For I do not know many masters in this life. Consider how long the Emperor is away And how long he is destitute; the Prodromus of affairs, And rather of this life itself, of the things that are necessary. Then, if the tongue of the Prodromus, O man, has withered, Who could find another in this land to compare with it, And who worthily to proclaim my Emperor? I do not think so, even if, being deranged, I speak this word.

X. Of the same, on the triumphal procession ^A of the Emperor Lord John Comnenus after the capture of Castamon, political verses for the people.

From a Prodromus a Prodromus, a servant from a servant, From a learned man a learned man, these things I bring to you as fruit. The Prodromus to the Emperor and the Lord’s anointed, The servant to the master and to the sovereign; The learned man to him who has most honored learning; And what is brought to me as fruit and offered, O Emperor, are decads of political verses, and of these, Each of the decads bears an imitation of an ode, Being completed according to its own limits; Hear then my ode, hear the songs.

Come hither, happy city, O come hither, new Rome, Celebrate your master, your Emperor, Your savior, your protector, and your champion. Embrace your son, crown your lord, With every outreaching hand and outstretched foot; Call your inhabitants, call your flocks According to their ranks, according to their tribes, and peoples and confraternities. Fill every street, fill every land ^A With the sound of cymbals, of music, of every rhythm and tune, And celebrate the crown-bearer in all harmony. O city, city, Roman city, city of the Ausonians, You have found, though late you have found, you have found at last Your world, your savior, and your avenger. Extend your borders, widen your courts, Your lengths, your breadths, and your measured lines. Like a cedar, lift up your summit; like a vine, spread wide. Raise your brow toward the circle, threaten your enemies, Prevail against the Persians, be radiant, be magnified; Subjugate the barbarian, win, O trophy-bearer, And proclaim to those after us the giver of these things.

You have risen, you have risen brightly from the East, Divine sun, Emperor, and you give light to the creation; Not washed, as the sun in the currents of the ocean, But washed in your golden sweats for our sake. And now rejoicing as a giant you proceed, And your brilliant trophies serve as your bodyguard all around. The city meanwhile meets you and embraces you, Entirely beautiful and far-shining, entirely made radiant, As if washed in beautiful currents, And receives you, O Emperor, with outspread arms. O city, city, happy city, O Rome, O new Rome, You were aged by enemies, you became an old Rome, You laid down your tresses, you laid down your robe. But you found a power unconquered, a noble, a new Rome, The vigorous king, the master John.

And again, be youthful as before, and become a new Rome. ^A Spread out your tresses, put on purple, put on that ancient adornment; adorn your face, bathe your body, and appear new and beautiful, and delight those who see you.

All the rivers have lifted up their voices, lifted them up, proclaiming your generalship, O master. The Ister cries out your strength, the Sagaris shouts aloud, the Halys swears that it has never seen another emperor running along its banks and drinking of its stream, except the master John, born in the purple, and none other having paved a path for the Romans all the way to you, nor having ferried across such a prize from Persia; and it rejoices, having been rid of foreign servitude, and serving you from henceforth, and washing your land.

O Rome, city blessed, city of Constantine, adorn yourself, put on a washed robe, welcome the victor, welcome the emperor, and the golden sweats by which he has redeemed you, wipe them off, wipe your golden brow, kiss the masters' feet, the all-fair feet, which proclaim a peaceful life to you. For your sake the emperor ignores diseases and toils; for your sake he fights and bears the toils of war. And from you, the counter-favor, other than thanksgiving. Give me, O David, cithara-player, a small part of your songs, or if you prefer, sing them to my emperor. You have ascended to the heights, O conqueror, you captured captivity in it, you received gifts from many alien men, all the fat ones of the earth have worshipped you.

^B You have extended the vine of the newer Rome, the branch as far as the seas, and the shoots as far as the greatest rivers, their boundary unbroken; may years be added, O king, to your life.

I hear, divine emperor, the laws of hunting. One might catch a boar in a certain time, and after labors of your own, and in time one might hunt a leopard, even with much guile; but this your hunt, your own hunting, is the work of a few days, yet truly a great work. A great city is taken, and fortresses are seized, and countless myriads of Persians are reduced to slavery, and Roman phalanxes cross the Halys on foot, and plunder the entire land on the other side; thus has the master Komnenos learned to hunt.

^C Many indeed, divine emperor, are your armies—and what are the armies of your might? Another is the current success, better than the hand of force: a city so great in strength, in size, in position, enveloped by so many walls in a circle, another Aornos and higher than any missile, it is added to the borders of the Romans without bloodshed—and other Persian cities, and ten thousand fortresses, and a countless multitude of barbarians defects; truly the trophy of God and the fortune of the Komnenoi.

The prophet says, "A voice was heard in Rama." But I, having shouted the scriptural passage and adapted it, say: In Kastamon this voice was heard, Persia weeping for her children, and not being comforted; for some were captured, and others are defecting.

And others of them died by the edge of the sword. I tremble for you, all you barbarian territories, lest you suffer the fate of Persia: you who drink of the Tigris, you who drink of the Nile, you Ethiopians in the West, you at the sun's rising, you of the northern clime, or the southern.

Come hither, city of Kastamon, come hither, city of the Romans, long an exile, a fugitive for many broad ages. Where have you been wandering until now, where have you been dwelling? How did you endure, tell me, to be separated from Rome and to be united with the enemy, to be mingled with the barbarians? Come hither, and I will kiss you, and I will embrace you; for the mighty emperor has rescued you and restored you, having snatched you from the hands of the enemy. And render the thank-offering of praise, as to one who has delivered you from bitter barbarian slavery.

Divine emperor, sun, light-bringer, radiant one, you have hidden the sun, having shone upon the earth with splendor. Do you then henceforth rise, do you then henceforth radiate, set the East ablaze, thou torchbearer, and the West; and let that other sun rise alongside you as your satellite. Release the horses, O sun, descend from the chariot; let the commander-in-chief, the emperor, be the charioteer. He shall not be dragged from the rim, he shall not drop the reins, he shall not fall toward the Eridanus, for he is no Phaethon, but understands the laws of horsemanship, knows well how to ride.

Arrogant and adulterous colony, which held possession of the East, you saw your mistress Rome a mourning widow, and you raised your licentious hands against her; you fled, you stole away, you withdrew to another colony, you contracted a marriage with perverse slaves. But when she had put aside that mournful widowhood and had been wed to the Emperor of the East, you were dragged forth from your hiding place, shorn, cast into chains, scourged with rods, condemned, and finally, paying the penalty ^A for your defection, you fall upon your knees before your mistress, a slave once more.

You wedded vengeful and wicked fellow-servants. But when she had put aside that mournful widowhood and had been wed to the Eastern and universal master, you were found, you were led away, you were shorn, you were imprisoned, you were scourged, you paid the price and the penalties for your apostasy, and you who were a slave now worship your mistress as a slave again.

Persia, vengeful, arrogant, rapacious, bloodthirsty, pillaging, murderous, mother of infinite evils, have you learned from what you have suffered? Have you known from your own people what a great evil it is to make war and to plunder cities, and how much pain they bring to maternal irrigation? Infants torn out, dragged, slaughtered. For how many mothers now, even in your own lands, are childless? And how many children seek the maternal breast? And wives their husbands, and husbands their wives? Your pain has turned entirely upon your own head.

Croesus, having crossed the Halys, as the stories say, destroyed his own great power, deceived by the demon and by the lying oracle. But your army now, O scepter-bearer, O victor, having crossed ^B the Halys on foot and having rushed against the enemy, destroyed a great power, but it was that of Persia. For it did not trust in an oracle or in ambiguous divinations, but in the divine alliance of the Theotokos, and in the emperor's faith toward the King of all, and it bent the high neck of Persia.

Yes, and the Persians, O emperor, and the arrogant ones, yes, yes, the lawless ones, and yes, the ungrateful ^C ones.

^A

Yes, punish the runaways, strike the apostates; They approached, they deserted, they have done thee homage, They obtained no little glory, as much as boundless riches, And again they fell away and ran off with them. Now let them be made to feel the hand of the once-philanthropic one, Harsh, fierce, unpitying, killing, slaughtering, In return for the things for which they have expressed thanks and broken faith with thee. O king, thrice-victorious, Autokrator of the Ausonians, Whose body is superior to a body, and nature beyond nature! Winter does not overcome thee, snow does not freeze thee, Disease does not master thee, toil does not wear thee out. Sick, thou campaignest, thou warrest, thou pursuest, thou slaughterest, Thou raidest cities, thou takest men prisoner, thou draggest off the captives. The pillagers and destroyers of the state, the wolves, Thou showest to be the guardians of this state, the dogs, And with health and victory thou returnest to us. Save me, I pray, O king, and save thy people. Who ever saw labor as a physician, and toils as pain-relievers, And battle healing a sick king? The king fell sick in the regions of the air, [And] he hastened into the land of the barbarians, He performed feats, he conquered, he came back freed from the sickness. What is this, divine king? We are ill, we are in bad health, And we fall onto our beds, and we seek medicines, And we guard ourselves against the blowing winds; But thou, thou art sick and thou commandest, thou art ailing and [thou slaughterest], ^B And against winters and Persians at the same time thou [armest thyself].

O Persians, Persians, barbarians, destroyers of the East, Plunderers, avengers, beasts, men of blood, Be condemned to delusion and perpetual exile, Take to the ravines, take to the glens, Flee the Comnenian sword and the hand of the King, Do not stay, do not stay, flee with haste, with haste, Beyond the Pillars of Hercules depart, pass beyond Thule, Go to the antipodes or to those underneath the earth, And fall and die and be cast down to Tartarus, Escaping the wrath of the Comnenian master. O hail, hail, O king, hail, trophy-bearer, The sun never saw such a king, Nor has the East seen such a sun. Thou beamest, thou risest, guiding by torches, lighting fires, thou dawnest, And no cloud covers thee, and thou knowest no setting. ^C O beam, beam, O king, beam for those under thy hand, Cherish, shine upon, rekindle, make alive; O burn, burn, O victor, burn the enemies, Sear them like garden herbs, consume them like stubble, And grant to thy city a pure day. Who from time immemorial heard of Balzon under the Romans? Who of Alamon, who of Alazon, most fortified cities? And the fame of the ruler alone ravaging whole nations, And enslaving so many rulers of nations, And reducing to servitude so many myriads of nations? Who saw clear spring in the midst of December, And the craggy and rough and ravine-filled places ^D Made level by the phalanxes of so many soldiers, And the work of a whole age [done] in a few days? Of thy good fortune, O king, are the deeds that have come to pass.

Lift up the ancient gates, O rulers of the Ausones, That the king may enter through them in glory. But ask, Who is he? But inquire of me: The victor Komnenos, the flower of the purple, Whom the Galatian trembles at, whom the Scythian fears, Whom the Celtic race worships, to whom the sons of the Arabs ^A Have imposed tributes on bordering lands, Whom the whole Halys, beholding, does not turn its stream back, But having grown quiet, becomes fordable for the Romans; To him, as he enters, swing wide the gates in splendor. Behold here, O Roman city, your newly captured servants, And let the multitude be, for it is not even counted, But the satraps especially, and the chosen leaders, See the Amasean Togeriles before the rest, Him from Gangra, Alpsarou, the Emir Phrachimodiles, Elelden, Elpencou, Tzyches, Inales; You have besides these to count even and some others many more, Kallinokles, Aitougdes, Ausararin, myriads; But you, leaving aside the multitude of the captured to gaze upon, Sing the praises of the lord John who captured them. Come hither, senate, council, come, divine tribunal, The entire commonalty, those of the solitary life, As many as are among the young, among the children, as many as in the beardless, Among infants, among elders, in all ages. As many as are in the sciences, as many as in the wars, As many as are of manual and common lot, As many as are genuine to the city, as many as of the other lot, ^A Of the stranger, the sojourner, the enrolled, And stand together in choruses, stand together in circles, Singing the pæans of the victories of the Komnenian lord. It was fitting, divine king, that the queen-city, If it were going to hymn your labors as they deserve, Should gild all its streets, all its alleyways, Should crown the face of the earth with silken raiment; 10 Should set you magnificently upon a winged four-horse chariot, Should bring back, if possible, Homer from Hades To hymn you, O king, with ten mouths. Since, however, the city is not able to honor you with these, It repays your sacred power with what it is able: With hymns, pæans, processions, vows, and thanksgivings. Count up with your measuring lines, O most fortunate Rome, ^B Everything as far as the Halys, that entire Halys itself, Add to your cities the land plundered beyond the Halys, And all of Kastamon; Join to the rest of the fortresses under you The new city Almon, the Alazon, the Balzen; Write for your myriads even new myriads. And if once more the king should charge against the enemies, Hold also the expectation of the monarchy; And for who could contend with the Komnenian lord? O Laodicean victory, Sosopolitan victory, Another Scythian victory, and a Dalmatian one besides, ^C Another again, the Amoriane, and yet another, the Lemnian. Simply as many as by land and by sea, and on the islands, As many as toward the rising and setting light-bearer, The Komnenian lord has accomplished over-wonderfully; And to me, a new and beautiful victory, the Kastamonite. Come, weave a chorus with tender fingers,

^A and sing to the emperor hymns according to his worth; or even those within [your] power—for where are those [according to his worth]? O great gift from God to this state, For long ages, for infinite suns, Conquering, capturing, triumphing, despoiling, excelling, And placing all enemies under tribute to you; May ambassadors from blessed Arabia come, And may you chastise Egypt, not with floods and hail, But with the edge of the sword and the slaughter of firstborns; And you shall bridge Tigrises, and shall dye anew [the] Nile, Some with foreign bones, others with the slaughter of barbarians, And you shall lead all under you and hold sole-sovereign power.

XI. By the same, ten verses as if from the city, beseeching the emperor to mount a chariot, to the people.

Every year, O emperor, of your divine rule, You do good, and you honor me, the servant, the new Rome. Every year you subject whole cities to me, Barbarian nations are enslaved, you link victory to victory; But the present time, O emperor, has enriched me beyond measure. You have extended my borders and my cords; You have increased my powers and my regions; The good has no measure, nor does victory have a count. For which [there are] prayers to you from us, for which [there are] thanksgivings; The children of your handmaid, of this new Rome, And this golden chariot in which you shall drive.

^B They say, divine emperor, that the sun, according to the accounts, Rides upon a chariot and travels round the creation; But you, O Emperor Komnenos, you, the flower of the purple, Being a sun more radiant than this one that appears, And lighting those under you and burning your enemies, And bestowing a pure day upon your city, Would you wish to rise toward us without a chariot? Do not do this, O sun, do not, by your own rays, Which you have sent forth everywhere on land and sea at once; But rise for us as a brilliant charioteer.

Come, let me count, O emperor, from your trophies, How many brilliant chariots you should mount; Laodicea is captured, I count one chariot for you; Sozopolis is subdued, behold two chariots for you; The race of the Scythians has been joined, I number three chariots for you; The Dalmatian is enslaved, this is the fourth chariot; A Dacian nation has been defeated, I shall count five chariots; And I leave out the great [capture of] Kastamon. The Halys is crossed, and so great a multitude is led into slavery, And will you, O emperor, not accept even one of these chariots?

^C We do not ignore, O emperor, even your humility, In which you have bent the puffed-up necks of the barbarians. For as much as you perform high and monstrous victories, So much do you think humbly, so much do you bow down. But what is now done is not a work of vanity, But thanksgiving to God and to His Mother, Honor of the people, of the senate, glory of the state. If, therefore, we have found favor in your eyes, ^D You, children of your handmaid, of this new Rome, And this golden chariot in which you shall drive. Step upon the rim, and advance with glory.

^A Why do you act this way, O Emperor, on a day of rejoicing? Do you endure to see me, Rome, your nurse, weeping? Do you overlook me mourning at a time of gladness? I intended to rejoice, but I mourn; to applaud, and I lament; to weave a musical paean, and I weave prayers. Why do you curtail my joy, why do you diminish the pleasure? The chariot stands bare, ^B and you still walk on foot; will you not touch the rim, will you not take up the reins? Will you not rise up as a charioteer? It is unjust, unjust; it is not in the nature of things. Hear me, O Emperor, the servant of the new Rome; hear my cry, step upon the chariot, and brighten my paths with your divine presence. You have, indeed, another chariot within, bright and divine, the four virtues, the general and primary ones: justice, prudence, fortitude, temperance, by which you soar even to the heavens themselves, and reach the supercelestial regions. But step also upon this chariot, O Emperor, and brighten my paths and shine upon my ways. ^C Not without God’s help, O Emperor, did I prepare the chariot; not without God’s help did I yoke its horses; not without God’s help did I fit these reins; not without God’s help did I fashion this rim. This chariot is a prophet of your future rewards, for it brings low, under the Roman fortune, the four regions of the whole earth like four haughty colts, like unbroken horses. Xerxes the Persian, O Emperor, he who boasted so much, seeking a single cup of water and another of earth from our Greece, did not receive them; but you, most magnificent of ancient kings, avenging the insolence of the lecherous Persian nation, instead of a cup of water, receive the whole Halys, and instead of a small amount of earth, countless lands. Having performed such brilliant, heroic deeds, ^D do you still refuse the four-horse chariot and the driving? Do not do this, O Emperor, do not, I implore by your own trophies. The divine chariot, O Emperor, the intelligible creation, which the Psalmist calls manifold, fought alongside you and accompanied you on your journey; it drowned for you the host of the Persian chariots, it cast into the sea for you the horses of Hagar and their riders—not into the Red Sea, but into the Halys itself. And now it wishes to step with you upon this chariot; do not, therefore, O scepter-bearer, leave it behind as it goes on foot. It has, I know, wings like a winged team, but it accepts driving along with you on the ground. It receives you, O Emperor, your noble body, your flesh long-suffering and adamant, that has wrestled with many frosts and myriads of heats, with rains, snows, drifts, hails, frosts, and dews,

Theodori Prodromi Scripta Miscellanea

And that has subjected all Persia in an instant, ^A rest for a little while in this chariot, and return victoriously for the glory of the Romans.

XII. A hymn by the same on the Nativity of Christ, dedicated to the Emperor John Comnenus, for the people.

Again, the birthday of Christ and the victory of the Emperor; a holy birthday, an irresistible victory. Again, God from Theman appeared bearing flesh, ^B and the Emperor returned from Theman victorious. A star of God announces the coming to the Magi, but many stars announce the king of trophies. Three Persians adore the One lying in a manger, but all Persia bends its neck beneath the foot of the other. The one escapes the infant-slaying sword; the other avoids the bitter arrow of the grasping Persian. Both recreate the entire creation; they ascend to the heights, they inherit nations, they rout every barbarian, and they raze cities, and they increase the boundaries of the New Rome, and they become a salvation to the Christ-named clergy.

But, O Generator of all, King of all, Almighty, who formerly without a mother from the Father, now without a father from the Mother, guard, save, and shield for very many cycles of years the victor, the Master John Comnenus, ^C and his partner in the crown, the Master Alexius, and the Sebastokrators and the Porphyrogeniti, the image of such great equals, the wondrous trinity. So may the father rejoice with his children, and the children rejoice with their victorious father.

XIII. On the same.

I give thanks to my God, O scepter-bearer, O trophy-bearer; I, the Rome that bore you, and am both your mother and your servant, that even now I have seen your divine power lightened from wars and endless toils. But I fear, O Emperor, your swift mobility, and I entreat you, wait, do not go on campaign again. The East and the West have had their fill of your form; the Danube has enjoyed you, the Halys has seen you, ^D the land of Kastamon has seen you, Gangra has gazed upon you. And I have seen you only by report and by rumor alone? Is this just, O Emperor? Why do you afflict my old age? Stay a little, that I may see your light-bearing face; that I may be sated with your form, that I may enjoy your beauty. Wait, wait, you have no enemies; for the nations in the East and the West serve you, and every barbarian force has been enslaved to you. Stay a little, and wash your all-beautiful feet; stay a little, and I shall wash your blood-stained hands, and I shall bathe the flesh that has been maltreated for my sake. Do not leave me, your city, servant, and mother; I put forward as an advocate the Christ who was formed as an infant, through whom may you reign for many years over the Romans. And may you rejoice with your child and Emperor Alexius, and with the Sebastokrators and the Porphyrogeniti.

XIV. On the same.

From the time that God bestowed power upon you, O Emperor, like the sun, to the entire inhabited world; scorching those towards the East and towards the West...

^A with iron and fire. I, Rome, who gave birth to you and nurtured you, receive the victories, but I do not see the victor; I receive the spoils, but I do not behold the despoiler; and I obtain brilliant trophies daily, but I do not see the trophy-bearer. And who is the cause of this for me? Thrice-fortunate is Castamon, thrice-renowned is Gangra, because they have enjoyed your imperial rays. But even if now there is peace, grant a respite from battles; stand still a little while and rest, refresh your body, and allow me to enjoy your divine splendor. I am beautiful, O Emperor; I rule over every land. You are beautiful, and you rule over every power; therefore let us enjoy one another’s beauty. You will not find a more brilliant city than me in the inhabited world, nor shall I find a more brilliant emperor than you in my lifetime. Let us enjoy one another, let us be sated with one another. But may Christ, who is born of the Virgin Mother, O brilliant sun of the Romans, triumphant Master, protect you and him who is from you, your partner in power, together with your colleagues, the Sebastokrators, and may He grant a long life to your reign.

Synoptic verses for the Byzantines.

^A O fortunate, beautiful, encircled by long walls, temperate, noble, nourishing, beautiful paradise, beautiful pillars, far-reaching, maritime eye of cities, living in both land and sea, and island washed by the swells, of the West and of the East the end and the beginning.

XV. A hymn by the same to the Emperor, Lord John Comnenus, on the feast of the Baptism of Christ, for the people.

Hail, city of great towers, newly born, fair Rome, behold a double festival, a double joy for the Romans: the bath of Christ and the brilliant trophies of the Emperor. Christ was washed for our sake in the bath of waters, The Sovereign was washed for our sake in the bath of sweat. The One crushes the heads of dragons in the water, The other bows the heads of barbarians upon the earth. ^B The One kills the serpents lurking in dens, The other shuts up in caves those Persians who were previously restless. The One is testified to by the Spirit in the form of a dove, The other is proclaimed by the white dove of victory. The One is declared Son by the voice of the Father, The other is proclaimed destroyer of the Persians by his deeds. I seem to hear a second voice from heaven, Calling out again to the peoples: "This is my Emperor; This is He in whom I am well pleased; obey him also." Both cleanse the imperial city With the bath of regeneration and rebirth, Both winnow the cosmic threshing floor; And every faithless nation they burn like stubble, But they guard the pious like useful wheat. But O Thou who washest my filth in the Jordan, Protect the great victor, the master John, Together with the child, his partner in the crown, Alexius, And the Sebastokrators and those born in the purple.

^A Who are tripled in number as they are uniquely worthy; With whom may you be preserved, rejoicing, robust, and safe.

XVIII. On the same.

XIX. Epitaph verses for the most victorious emperor born in the purple, lord John Comnenus, as if from the tomb.

Scripta Miscellanea

Two Roman scepters have fallen to me, who gave birth to many kings. I glory in being sprung from the Comnenian and Ducaean families, and in having as my father the most powerful ruler of the Ausonians, Alexius Comnenus, a strong man, a pursuer of the Celts, the Scythians, and the Persians. ^A The modest purple-clad swaddling clothes, the symbols of the whole imperial office, adorned me from my tender age. But a love of victory having entered my heart, it nurtured me first in horsemanship and the bow. Then, having given me the double-edged sword, it trained me in the labors of the hunt, directing me to strike down the bear with a spear and to overtake the mountain panther with the bow. Having finished my training in these rules of warriors, I immediately armed myself against those barbarians. And there was no pride in me, for I achieved success in every battle, since, O Almighty, I used the edge of Thy hand in the encounters against the enemy. I raze the ten-thousand-man cities of the Persians, I capture those birdless heights, bending down the arrogant brow of the satraps. Beyond the Halys I extend my power, brandishing the sword which Thou didst give me in a circle. ^B The beast shuddered at my hand with its Gaza, the Persian flame, the bold, roaring lion, and every wolf of the Ismaelitish tribe—my blow crushed their jaws. And the western mixed multitude of the Getae, the Scythian chimera, that confederate race, was utterly destroyed by my sword; for Thou didst tip my blade against them.

^A The Dacian bent his neck to my feet, the Dalmatian submitted to my threat; the Ister spread out, turning its back, and appeared as an early harbor to my sailors. And this, O Christ, is of Thy all-powerful strength.

No day saw me without labors, no night had me without cares. I did not shrink from the burning heats of summer, nor the frosts of winter, nor their pressures; but like Atlas, I circled the whole world about for the entire duration of my life. Now tending toward the North, now toward the South, now inclining toward the East and the West, I dissolved all the enemies in turmoil, ^B increasing on every side the borders of the Ausonians, and commanding battalions and armies in battle. Yet I did not refuse the duty of a common soldier, but, first of all, when the battle was joined, I bared my sword against the enemy. More quickly than any man’s eye could bear the brilliance of the rising sun, and even more than one could pour forth the flame of lightning or the thunderbolts of my generalship, did the entire barbarian phalanx endure. I pursued every tactic in the battles; I fought on foot, I fought at sea, sailing; I tore down walls and shattered them, cities, with works of tortoises, mounds, and excavations. ^C And let the city of Castamon be witness to these things, well-walled, high-towered, most impenetrable; and Gangra, reaching even to the clouds and vying in height with Parnassus,

which are bronze-walled and iron in their molding, are overthrown by my wooden machines. What need is there to say more? Why a long speech? Rumor alone shook entire phalanges, being drawn up under you as commander, O Word; and having heard the Comnenian name, all enemies were terrified with fear, just as if struck by a whirlwind of the Word. Because to the struggles of my father and the emperor, as to archetypes inscribed within my heart, I directed all my labors, I was not found to be an offense to his toils. For why should I hesitate to speak the word? And now, toward the rising of the light-bringer, beyond the deep and great Halys, the sweet sea, as one might call it, I have extended the boundary line of New Rome, and beyond the Danube into the west. So many and new are the struggles I have performed, O stranger! The dust that lies here, the cup-full of earth. And glory to Him who molded me and crowned me, and who saved Rome by my toils. As for those things pertaining to the law of the marriage bed, there is no one who could contend with me in skill; for from a queen of all the Western race, I wrought a double and noble tetrad: four stout and warlike sons, brought forth from the ancestral purple, and ^A four seemly daughters. But now, though I have spread out the measureless plains of the barbarian earth under the Roman power, I lie here covered by a cold and small stone. I, the common king of the West and the East, have gone under the sunless sunset itself; and the splendor of beautiful purple availed nothing against death. But you, O stranger, recognizing my dust, ^B if you have not wrought a cooling flame, [help] with unceasing prayers the struggles of my right hand. John, scion of the purple, Comnenian, pious Emperor, gives you these things.

XX. Epitaph for the blessed Empress of the Romans, Irene, as if spoken by the one lying therein.

If any law allows even the dead to speak, behold, having sent a cry from the tomb, I too will reveal to you, O stranger, the things concerning myself. I was born of fortunate ancestors who governed the entire West; the Caesars themselves educated me, and the graces crowned me. And the most powerful king of Rome, the Alexiad, the Porphyrogennetos, the most fortunate John, the shoot of the Comneni, the flourishing branch of the Ducai, the chaser of every foreign tribal power, having joined me in legitimate union, took me for his own. And having shared with him in the ruling of the Ausonian land, I brought forth into the light four sons, born of the ancestral purple, good to look upon, breathing fire for battle; and four seemly daughters. I saw the bright achievements of my spouse, ^C victories in the four quarters of the world, victories toward the dawn of the sun and toward the west, victories toward the north and the hot climate of the south. Finally, having abandoned the diadem, the purple, the fine-spun clasp, the royal robe, I clothe myself in the rough garment of the monks. I die in that province of the Bithynians, an exile from the queenly land of the Ausonians; but I am brought back, sailing over the sea, and I entrust my dust here. But do Thou, who didst mold me and mold me anew again, who didst grant me the earthly authority below, grant me also the inheritance of the heavens above.

XXI. Theodori Prodromi, philosophi doctissimi, Epithalamium, fortunatissimis imperatoris filiis dictum.

^A 1. To the construction of the ancient tabernacle, most learned Emperor, hair of goats was needed; and certainly it is expedient that the names of Caesars, now of the Julii, now of the Augusti, become known. But I, who have to celebrate my venerable Emperor with very many new names, shall never depart from that which signifies the type of a wise man, doing this so that with the organ of my voice I may consolidate the betrothal and nuptials of your sons; in which place the hair meant something and lacked no ornamentation. But in this place there is no need of words to proclaim perfection. For how could the ornament itself have need of ornament, or beauty itself need to be made beautiful? To what purpose, then, is perfection for those to whom nothing is lacking? But it is to be estimated solely by the goodwill of those contributing. It is not surprising, then, if we were not present among the beginnings of the mysteries; for we were not oblivious to the affair through ignorance. To whom, furthermore, should we show favor if not to public masters and benefactors? If, then, you assign one time with Solomon for taking a wife, and another for writing books, you will also hold to the principle of harmony, which bids one sacrifice to peace and lay down arms. But before all things let us set the evangelical parable, which I fear I may not clearly understand. For I am penitent to cite the father of reason because the nuptials are not solemnly performed, as if the hands and feet of reason were cast away from the epithalamium. Hence, I shall conceal the ailment and with overflowing joy shall declare the power of reason. Know, however, that pleasure with which the soul is imbued is equally disturbed by the bonds of logic as is sorrow.

^B 2. You have the reason why I was slower in performing my duties. Up to this point I was silent indeed, yet I do not approach the panegyric altogether intemperately. For just as when this visible sun is about to rise, rays as harbingers precede it; but when it turns towards setting, the rays remain on the surface ^C of the earth; so in royal festivities, festive preludes precede the great panegyric and introduce it as it were from on high; but also postludes (if I may be forgiven the word) follow, which is what can be said of our oration, which hesitated for a long time as to whether it should peruse the nuptials with a poem in the ancient manner, or address the bride and groom before the wedding feast, which indeed it also did subsequently. For one ^D

^A should not try to establish by argument a matter that is already confirmed by nature, by law, and by time; though this is even higher than our discourse, yet it is notwithstanding the sum of the whole feast, so to speak.

3. I greet you, therefore, a couple yoked together under the one yoke of brotherhood; but now joined by two wedding ties, beautiful shoots of a beautiful olive tree, being not more brothers in nature than in character, nor more in character than in the good gifts of those scepters from which you have sprung, and each of you confirming your own lot no less by your ways than by your titles. And you, ^B O active spirit, Alexios, beautiful youth, gray-haired intelligence, truly a station worthy of the fortune of your ancestors, who represent in yourself entirely your grandfather the emperor, in character more than in the name of Komnenos and Alexios, and who demonstrate the mystery of the succession of nations through things concerning you; for if one were to grant even those myths that men were once born, some parts of the body... and the other of the shoulders ivory-colored, and from which ancestor they were made flesh by succession, and thus again the things of our own time are far more wonderful than the mythical ones, inasmuch as we do not confirm the lineage from one part, and that a bodily one, but from the whole body, and from all the dispositions of the soul. And you, too, O offshoot of the Doukian root, Charitonyme, the flower of the season, the image of youth, whom I have never seen without bringing that boundless beauty to mind—if one asks what is the first form worthy of tyranny, I shall answer. Rejoice both collectively and individually, you who possess the ^C widely heralded happiness, having become wealthy in all, and who having established the things that until now lay in disbelief, have confirmed all good things in one, to those who are related to them.

4. And if one should wish, I shall display the happiness of the bridal couple, even if only in part, coarsely and cursorily, as if the matter were not already near the bridal feast; for I would not, if I were able, have spared any of all these things. Two scepters, then, were shining forth to the Romans, reflecting beautifully upon one another; the one, a little earlier, the Komnenian, and the one immediately at its heels, the Doukian, both fortunate and illustrious and not unworthy of secular virtue; but just as if by agreement they had come together into one, this one, which is much clearer and brighter, this Komnenodoukian and imperial state of the bridal couple. Remember, O those present, the Alexian authority; yet, so that you do not weep over the marriage, recall that good order in peace, those feats of valor in battles, without lamenting, O sacred empresses, without lamenting, for the sake of the beautiful feast; remember that gentleness, that stability, that other grace. But what is this? ^D I see the senate looking gloomy at this; wait, therefore, to sing another ode, and we are singing it now. Behold for me this holy empress, the namesake Irene, the Doukian offshoot, who has ruled no less over all the Romans; well done, for the listener has again been eased in his soul. Behold this hand, which you have always tested, and we test it, the hand that distributes wealth, that is God-loving, merciful, and full of every other virtue. From such grandparents as these have these beautiful bridal couple been offered to us; from such great roots have these fair fruits been raised.

^A 5. But what are we to say of their venerable parents, whom to call—to use a name suited to their character—victorious in all things, would be to fall short of the magnitude of their deeds? I speak of this empress, daughter of the purple, whose circular eye—moving of itself toward itself and revolving—signifies a motion that is intellectual and divine, driven by an agitation that we have recognized as being from themselves and toward themselves. If, as the Greeks claim, there is any truth in this, we would add a fourth Grace to the Graces and a tenth Muse to the Muses, or rather, one who has initiated herself into the whole of philosophy—for which the end is not knowledge, but practice—through the exercise of virtue. Furthermore, having thought more nobly and regally, and having considered that, just as the purple is the ornament of the royal body, so too is the science of the knowledge of beings the ornament of the royal soul, she searched out the truth in these things and showed that virtue is an acquisition of the will, not of lineage. Having surpassed all others in every excellence, she surpassed even herself in the happiness brought about by her marriage; for she entered into the bed of such a man—my master and Caesar—the likes of which neither sight has presented to us, nor have the histories of the ancients taught us. For while other Greeks and Romans may have succeeded in different things—some in demagoguery, some in military command, others in achieving fame through letters, with one having practiced philosophy and another poetry—to be the same man at the same time a general, a master of poetry, a philosopher, a voter, an arbiter among rhetoricians, and to fall short of excellence in nothing, but to be the center of praise for each of these—this was given by fate to our Emperor alone. ^B

6. Being placed under such fathers, therefore, and having such brides and grooms as brothers, and looking upon such examples, tell me, how were their souls to be trained? I think in no other way than how they were trained; and they were trained in such a way as, indeed, Plato legislates for the man who is to govern his own state. As for the goods that nature has generously bestowed upon them—I mean beauty, speed, strength, and whatever pertains to a liberal upbringing—to ride expertly, to play ball, to hunt with skill, to command a phalanx with no lack of noble spirit—and furthermore, those things concerning the body, royal garments, silver and gold, and whatever other material man has deemed valuable; and splendid houses, and Arabian horses, and a crowd of subjects not ignoble, for these things too snatch up the whole of happiness, let the eyes of each witness for each one; but I for my part marvel most at their humble-mindedness and gentleness in such circumstances, and the obedience they have rendered to their parents, as part of the whole, to which my discourse has turned, and to the others...

^C 7. For such persons, then, and from such origins, what is still lacking for the completion of their total happiness? Surely nothing other than to marry luckily and to be called parents of children. Since, therefore, the marriage has already been celebrated, and we are chanting a paean today for two royal and fair children—and two maidens—the first in lineage, the peerless in form, and of the most lawful, noble, and moral union—one might call these two, in their new-appearing union, a sun and a moon.

^A Let the entire body of subjects, or more truly, all of us, rejoice; for it is not the part of unfeeling servants to fail to rejoice when their masters rejoice, nor to remain unmoved by the joy of their betters, just as the opposite is also true. But, ^B O Christ the King, ward off from us everything of evil report. If thou hast any perception, O bedchamber and bridal house, share thou too in this joy; let no one here be sullen, let no one be downcast; let all smile, let all rejoice, let all exult together at these completed rites.

The matter of skilled craft and many children—the other aspect—remains yet to be seen, but the sequence from the ancestors up to this day is well-omened. What sayest thou to these things, O divinely inspired soul and tongue of the Caesar? “Did not the discourse show your children to be as fortunate as it was possible for them to be?” I, indeed, think so, and perhaps I am not far from the mark. What else, then, is there to do in this, but to rejoice, and for all others to do so, but especially those who are most intimate? Do thou, therefore, rejoice for me before all others, O sacred and divine Empress; for the one who is the leader of the lineage ought also to be the leader of the joy; and as for thee, O—I know not what worthy title to call thee by, O most divine Porphyrogenita—rejoice and rejoice with me for my master, the wise Caesar.

8. See, the prayer is brought to an end, and the longing is fulfilled. You have seen your sons successfully led as bridegrooms, crowned, and proclaimed to the Senate, to the people, and to the forum; escorted to the bridal chambers, following him who Yesterday was escorted in victory as kinsman and Emperor. Let all envy be far away; you have wedded fair sons to fair daughters—the Pythian oracle would rightly have said this as well. And do you, divine sovereigns of these children, rejoice, and divine empresses, and, above all, you yourselves, O bridegrooms; for you who have become the cause of joy to others would much more so be such to yourselves; for you who have been joined have found fortune, and you who have been joined in return—the maiden out of noble descent with the offspring of kings, the offspring of kings with the maiden out of noble descent, the young women with the young men, and the young men in turn with the young women. And you, thrice-happy brides, rejoice, and you have joined in the joy of the noble Doukaina and of the sister of the handsome bridegrooms, whom you emulate in all other things, besides that of an untimely widowhood; over these things let us exult.

9. ^C I overcome you, O Myth, in the matter of weddings, even if we grant credence to the fabled tales. For you unite to Peleus the daughter of the old man of the sea, Thetis, but I, to the child of most glorious sovereign-parents, [unite] daughters; and whereas you arrange the nuptials in a rocky cave, I arrange them in the royal palaces themselves; and you invite to the banquet Aphrodite, Hera, and Athena, but I, absolute ladies—some more imperial than Hera, more prudent than Athena, and more beautiful than Aphrodite. And you bring in Eris, supposedly uninvited, and cast an apple into the midst—that apple which was the pretext for the whole Iliad—and you disturb the drinking, and, as the saying goes, you cause the seats to be overturned and set the banqueters at odds with one another. But I, too, invite Eris to the banquet, ^D and I do not violate the face of the festival; this Eris whom I bring is not the contentious one, nor the one who delights in evil, but one who, when understood, would be praised; so much more noble—and even if it were not a myth, more glorious—are the events among us.

10. Who, then, is so envious and so unappreciative of the good that he does not rejoice at these present things and pray for the best for the masters of these ceremonies? As for me, I am all but leaping at the matter, and I skip for joy, and I imitate in this part the prophet of Jesse...

^A I borrow this from you, O Porphyrogenita, divine lady, as one who already possesses the pledge of a life of felicity, and who hopes for the same for your children: I see you, as a mother, rejoicing over your children, and I would add that I see my own master and Caesar, their father, rejoicing with you. And I pray that you may see the children of your children, and their children in turn, down to the third and fourth generation. And you, noble bride and bridegroom, what more could one wish for you than a happy life, and to beget children such as your own parents, who brought you into the world, are named? And while you have enjoyed the paternal name, may you not lose the name and title of your children, but always be called parents and be named for your sons. May you leave behind you works worthy of your ancestors' virtue, and may you attain to a deep and rich old age. Farewell.

UPON THE SEPULCHER OF THE EMPEROR, LORD JOHN COMNENUS

^B You see, spectator, the slab set before you; This is the end of my wanderings, Of the Lord of the earth, the pious John, Born of the Lord of the earth, Alexius. This is the destination of my struggles, Which I endured with endurance for the sake of the Ausones. Victories and trophies, and brilliant hegemonies, And where is the triumph and the good fortune of fate? Here it is narrowed and confined [and remains]. To this, the race of mortals knows, the course ends. But you, if you have gained any profit from my labors, With unceasing prayers, do honor to my dust.

AGAINST BAREUS, WHO BRANDED HIM WITH THE MARK OF A HERETIC

What say you, venerable and wise assembly? Are we to be silent now, or shall we speak as justice demands? ^D Do we proceed to the defense against our enemy Bareus? Or shall we endure his insolence once again?

^A Are we keeping our oaths? If, without carving reeds to record grievances, we break the vow with a truthful word and brand his wicked nature—if indeed his babbling had remained within measure, if he mocked my fortune or my lineage, if he rebuked human frailty, if he chided dull-mindedness or the corruption of character—I would be vexed, yet I would endure it, and I would not despise the established laws. For what is the accusation? A wretched life. Where, on our account, God Himself lies down in poverty—He to whom all gold and silver belong, and who, while foxes have dens and birds have nests, has not where to lay His head. What, then, is the insult in not driving along more pompously than a man with Aradian or Thessalian horses, provided one’s feet are sound and not failing? A war-horse is meant for men, a helper in battle, not a servant of luxury. Who among the blessed judges the wealthy? Yet Christ called the most destitute blessed. What, then, is the accusation? A luckless life, or a base and worthless human lineage, whereas the divine Books record my God and Word, in His second generation down here, as having the one who bore Him for a progenitor. And what is the insult if someone’s nature is flawed, and perhaps he is pale, or bald of head, or pot-bellied, or has uneven eyes? I would share the paleness of the wise Basil, I would squint along with Gregory, and I would wither away with Chrysostom. If such things had been cast as a charge against me, I would have borne it patiently, ^B persuaded by the commands of the Gospel, which says: “To the one who strikes you on one cheek, turn the other also to the one who strikes you.” If a robber snatched my cloak in the manner of a brigand—a manner typical of his barbarian mind—and stripped away my tunic besides, I, trusting in God, would be clothed anew by Him who adorns even the white lily. But since he deprives me of the greatest thing I possess—God—and strips me of my hopes, and makes an accusation of impiety against my life, having spoken a great injustice to the heights, saying: “O fire, break forth, burn up the creation! Shake, O earth, be extinguished, O light of the sun! ^C O sea, surge over and drown this life! Let all things be overturned in a new confusion!”—not being able to endure the shame of his discourse, I break my silence and stir my pen, persuaded by the words of the holy Fathers, by whom we were ordained to bear every other mockery and every reproach with a pious mind, but to refuse to receive impiety even at the extremities of our doors, or to endure it by force, but rather to strike the one who speaks it, if need be, than with idle hands or abusive words. For silence is for a man who denies God. Therefore, join with me in the matter of the discourse at hand, regarding all the genuine race of men for God. For I have burned with zeal for my Lord. Moses, again hiding the slain Egyptian in the sand by the shore, and dividing the Red Sea and passing through the middle, and drowning the oppressive taskmasters.

^A Taking Phinehas again, strike the Midianite monster in such a way that you may remove the reproach from the Israelite. Sharpen, O Samuel, the edge of the sword, and cut off the most shameful head of Hagar. David, taking your excellent sling, sling Goliath, and again, O Thesbite, kill with your spear him who now sacrifices to Baal with his leather-bound book. For even if he has not been born a priest of shame, he is indeed a worker of much shame. For in this way he is more deserving of slaughter. Deliver to the bears the brood among the elders, the command of the seeing Elisha, since he called the bald one and the one naked of God’s covering a servant of God devoid of hair. But to what end are these things? Where is the Thesbite now? And where is Samuel? Where is the mouth of Elisha? Where are those who follow, enumerated in order? Trinity, my Trinity, and Trinity, I say a third time, treasure of the faithful, hope of the pious, one indeed in the essence of the word, but piously triadic in the persons, if the oak of Mamre is present even in life today, come down to Abraham, and again, new and calf-eaten by the lover of strangers, burn Sodom and Gomorrah anew. Drive out the money-changer with the scourge, my Savior Jesus Christ, my Creator, for your Father’s and God’s house he makes a house of trade and a marketplace. But since these things have been prefaced for me, the heretical labeling which you charge me with must be examined, so that you may have a share of this, ^A when divine judgment settles it for all. You who are quick to accuse and say everything, are you not even the sheep of the Master? Although you have recently been seen as the sheep that is a wolf. Perhaps, O you devoid of reason, do you call me a heretic as one nurtured in secular arguments, so that you might cover up your own folly? Call a heretic hereafter, if you wish, the keen mind, the grace of Basil, the golden bee of Chrysostom, the utterance of Gregory of Nyssa, Maximus the miracle of quietude, to whom falls such a share of external arguments that they seem to surpass even Plato and Socrates. If you say that what has been spoken is heretical, ^B may I be accounted a heretic with those mentioned. But if you have listened to my words, perchance, and judged them fallacious, tell me, or rather tell the whole assembly, and take for yourself one of the two outcomes: either teach one who is ignorant—and grace shall be yours for the teaching and the word, as you lead the unworthy to something worthy—or at least cast me out of the house of God. Has this not turned out to be the lot of the foolish? But who shall persuade your mouth, once moved, to vomit forth a word? Or how can it not be an error for me to have opened with spittle? O shame of nature and mockery of life, you attach to me the ill-omened word, you deprive me of the unoriginate Trinity, from whom I have drawn the anchors of life. Do you deprive me of communion with God, I who have received many graces from the Trinity, and those not trivial or brief? ^C You appear as a wolf instead of a lamb. Do you, devoid of reason, call me a heretic, who act out of motives other than yours? Evidently, you are striving to hide your own stupidity. Call it heresy, if you will, the wakeful mind, the grace of Basil; attribute the same name to the rhythm of Chrysostom; call the eloquence of Gregory of Nyssa likewise; name Maximus a heretic, that miracle of quietude, to all of whom it was given to speak so eloquently that they seem to surpass Plato and Socrates himself. If, furthermore, you say that what I have just spoken reeks of heresy, I am willing to be a heretic with those whom I have cited above. But if you think my words are evil, tell me, or rather tell the whole assembly, and receive the price. For either you teach an unlettered and ignorant man, and you take a teacher's fee for your instruction, or you drive from the temple of God those who presume to hold a place there with a pardon for their folly. But who could induce you to make plain what you think? Or how can I not be deceived by the impious gaping of your mouth? O mockery of nature, O ridiculous life! You attribute to me a foolish argument; do not deprive me of the Trinity which has no beginning, from whom I have deduced the principles of life. You tear me away from the communion of God, me who have received very many things by the grace of the Trinity, and those things not light or brief. By the claw I show you the lion, or rather not to you,

but to those who possess a mind. God is without beginning, first principle, the cause of all, royal, immutable, ^A abiding in the same state, intelligent sweetness, self-love, essential love, bountiful, rich, right, rectitude, one, same, equal, the limit of all things, life, beautiful light, self-good substance, pleasant, provident, entity, infinity, God-working, simple, virtue, the sum total, competence, just, self-wisdom, world-creator, immortal, everlasting life, redeeming, pre-beginning, self-holiness, sole ruler, Lord, the boundary of all, Mind, and Word, and Spirit; for these are God, altogether co-natural and consubstantial. The Word is the offspring of the mind of the All-Cause, the all-holy Son of the all-holy Father, the only fruit without beginning of a root without beginning, a clear seal that is in no way moved. The Spirit is the procession and output of the Mind, most high, equal in honor to Him and to the Word, by nature the same as He in power and might, nothing of the three is separate, yet the three are one, to be grasped by reasonings, but dimly and only in part. Whoever reveres these things shall be saved. If these things are trustworthy, why do you drive me away from the believers? But if they are not trustworthy, present your reasons. But who would take you by the nose and wipe away the excess of your mucus, so that you might utter even one syllable of reason? You attach to me charges of impiety, you who are liable for every impiety, ^A you who with God have paraphrased in four-line verses the whole of the ancient law and that which concerns us, and have carried off glory? Am I, O stranger to God, far from God? I, who breathe nothing else but God alone? Am I a byproduct of drunkenness, a folly? You, O stranger to God, you would become a stranger to God, you who dare to rave, to speak nonsense, to say these things. Am I, most base one, impious toward the Word? I, who have revealed the faith of God-minded Fathers from proven facts, and especially from the naming of Christ. For I have enjoyed a grandfather who bore the name of the Forerunner, and I had an uncle named Christ, ^B a president of the Russian land, elegant in speech, under whom I was piously brought up and reared. Then, neglecting all things, I did not neglect the divine desire for those things above; but I was nurtured in the external teachings, yet having culled only those things from them that are useful for the faith, I cast the rest to chaos, so that I might not be ensnared by the manifold traps and fall into the labyrinths of syllogisms, nor be shaken by those who are crucified by (mere) speech, remaining simply a man of learning. Hence, we have the books of the Stagirite, hence the lofty words of Plato, in so far as they are a part of natural philosophy, and in so far as they concern character, cities, and discourses. ^C O muddy and foul-smelling speech, such as has escaped from your lips! O excrement, as it has come forth from your teeth! O fume, as it has been breathed forth from your jaws! Truly, you are worthy of this indictment.

For it is not from the tongue alone that blasphemy arises, but from the abundance of your heart. ^A You are worthy of the name by which you judge me, you who worship God for the sake of base gain. Whom do you call a stranger to the faith? Is it not he who breathes forth God and the Scriptures, or he who voluntarily becomes guilty of sin, or he who drinks the blood of the poor and seeks profit from the very lepers?

Then, and how, and by what art of discourse do you judge the pious and him who is not such, being ignorant as you are of every book without exception? What wise Maximus has sharpened you? What great Cyril has whetted you? You, who for the most part of your life remain silent, but if by chance you open your mouth, you immediately utter all-corrupting things. As it was storied of the grammarian Flaccus, who, being about to speak, spouted barbarisms immediately as if from the starting-line. You are truly heavy, and of a clay-like heart, who know neither yourself nor your neighbor. But you say that every impious man—and you do not know yourself—is in an ecstasy of mind, not such an ecstasy as David experienced of old, but foolishly. Yet even if you do not know yourself, your very name bears witness to your nature. For "Bar" in the Greek tongue is "son," as "Bar-Jona"—you are a witness to me of this word—and the meaning of the rest is plain: for it signified "swine" to the ancients. Let anyone who wishes combine the mixture of these two meanings. Being such, he writes me down as a man of evil faith.

^A O frivolous mind, even if you speak in vain as a heavy one, and are shifted by the force of every wind! And what great thing can you ever know how to dogmatize, so naked and badly-formed a head? From which even the race of hairs has fled, not wishing to remain upon a foolish pate. Yes, he says, but I was playing; I was not slandering. But an old man also plays; no one feels any envy. With difficulty, indeed, my good fellow, and after a long time. But yet, you have answered excellently and well. And what sophist could answer you, or drive out peg with peg of argument? But yet, you ought to have placed the whole proverb in your mind, and not just one part. For old men play, but wisely; but you, O wretch, playing with God, do not tremble. Is the divine a thing to be played with? And who does not shudder to hear it? You play, depriving me of the hopes from above; you play, exiling me from the unoriginated Trinity; you play, barring me from salvation. You play, you might say, while strangling and killing with the sword. But if these things are to be played with, may they be played with upon you, so that you may learn by experience what it means to play and to speak blasphemously. Yes, he says, but the Chian wine made you insolent, ^B and because I am no longer put to the test by me for custom, it has persuaded me to speak nonsense about you. But you know this law of friendship: to offer larger cups to one's friends. ^C I know this law of friendship, but only where one is invited to a dinner. For in an assembly of rational fellow-drinkers, the mixing of discourse overcomes the drinking of wine. And even if we should grant this, not even then does...

^B your speech show true reason. For if someone struck me with a hard stone, and then, while paying the penalty for the blow, said, “The stone, not I, struck you,” would you not consider this ridiculous? Thus you also, in thinking and speaking, attribute the cause of the evil you have committed to wine. Yet you shall pay me no lighter a penalty if, under the excuse of drunkenness, you dare to utter such things. For if, before you were drunk, you were hiding wickedness in your heart, golden drunkenness has now brought it into the sight of day. ^C But for the present, let these words be for a trifle, to serve as a light punishment. I will prepare for you, like Moses, a new ten-fold plague; and you shall stoutly endure my hail, and await my lice and frogs; nor shall you escape the palpable darkness and all the other parts of the ten-fold plague. May the holy Trinity, worshipped in purity of mind, guard my intellect, and through its triple and simple light may it send me, without stumbling, from this lower life to the land of the meek, to the life above.

THEODORUS PRODROMUS

Verses of the same, hypothetical, on Pausanias, who turned to stone on account of the death of his son Peter.

On the same.

On the same.

Hypothetical, on someone cast out by the sea, a corpse without hands.

^A Ares, the bane of mortals, that deprived me of my hands. The swelling of the unharvested sea killed me, a corpse. For I fought the waves from within a well-timbered ship, a ship with liquid-limbs, a ship that struggles with storms. And the water-living race, the deep-swimming fish, feasted upon the pair of my hands. The fish devours the man; the man in turn devours the fish—both are banqueters, O heavens, of one another! Stranger, do you bear my words to my kin? I beseech you, though I go without hands and speechless. Do not, unhappy ones, cease from a fish-rich table; leave behind the sea-fed, ocean-wandering creatures! Do not ever unwittingly feast upon my killers, and without knowing it, eat your own offspring. And mother, you who gave me birth, hold within your womb the one you bore alive, yet see once more as a corpse.

To the monk, Lord Joannicius

An enigma on the cloud

BY THE SAME ON LIFE REPRESENTED IN AN ALLEGORICAL IMAGE.

^A Me, Life, O man, accept as your advisor. Did you happen upon, did you find, did you take, did you hold onto my hair? Do not surrender yourself to sloth, do not move toward luxury, nor think high things and beyond measure. You see me naked; understand my end to be naked, too. Under my feet there are wheels; tremble lest they roll away. Around my shins are wings; I flee, I fly by you. I hold balances in my hand; fear the shiftings. Why do you hold me? You hold a shadow; you hold a gust of wind. ^B Why do you hold me? You hold smoke, a dream, the track of a ship. Me, Life, O man, accept as your advisor. Did you not happen upon, did you not take, did you not have hold of my hair? Do not be downcast henceforth, nor grow hopeless. I am naked, and having slipped from these hands, perhaps I will flow toward you and fall your way again. Under my feet there are wheels; perhaps they will roll toward you. Around my shins are wings; I run, I fly toward you. I hold balances; perhaps I will lower the scales for you. Do not, therefore, abandon fair hopes.

BY THE SAME LAMENTATION OVER THE DESPISED WORD.

Away from my life, away, books. Away, every concern of men of old. No longer approach me, but seek out other men. ^C Away, clever devices of Aristotelian craft; away, theology of Plato, and all philosophy; away, the best works of Empedocles, the Muses of Homer, the works of Democritus and Orpheus (whom his father procreated Hya-

Hya- ^A grus begot, and no other might rival him in songs). Away, rhetoric; away, orthography; and all those things that grant glory to mortals through discourse, away; satisfy some other person with worthy care, not me. For I have endured vain labor ^B by suffering for your sake; whence trouble, misery, care, and deception have sprung. Away from my eyes, books! Thou, my mind, art estranged from wisdom, though against thy will; but do not be too afflicted, and let not the sorrow that eats the heart pursue thee, nor crush the limbs of thy body. Throw far away books, discourses, and consuming cares; on the contrary, frequent theaters and listen to the trifles of jesters and mimes. Play around things not playful, which fools love to handle, with a word far abject and despised. But if thou dost not wish to give thy attention to theaters, sit in silence, avoid the gathering of men, do not walk in the crowded forum of men, and say farewell to cares and anxieties continuously. Away from my eyes, books!

THEODORI PRODROMI CONTRA INVIDOS. - EXHORTATIO AD PIETATEM ET SAPIENTIAM.

^C To the same, Against the Envious. There is not in me a trace of vigor, nor hands for defense; oh, what terrible suffering! I, who, having seized the man-hating stings of envy, would strike with weak and feeble hands, and punish those who foster anger in the midst of their soul with perpetual exile and wandering. For they are sons of darkness, as they are sons of error, and wholly [blinded] by the lack of vision that comes from thence. But now, alas, now [I am helpless], and because I have no strength, even if I should arm my mouth against them, so that I might denounce the disease that hates good—perhaps in this way my mind might cease from its suffering.

The same, Admonitory Verses.

The Tomb.

Why do you stand, stranger, reading these inscriptions, as if you would know the corpse within the stone? I, the tomb itself, suffice to tell you everything, nor is it anything strange if a tomb should speak to you, for writing knows how to make even stones cry out. A lion's cub lies here abiding with me—a cub of lions, but a great lion nonetheless. He sleeps, having closed the folds of his eyes, having suffered in this, a passion not befitting a lion. I cover the bronze tower of the Ausonians, the adamantine spear of New Rome, Constantine, the wonder of the Camytzes, [a man] most venerable, not so much for his rank as for his wisdom and the strength of his generalship. Around the west, and around the north, and the south, and the eastern flashes of the Morning Star, he broke forth as a fire-brand against the barbarians.

Stranger.

You speak of the husband of Mary Comnena, she born of purple-born mother—or [if you say] that when he was joined to her, like a morning star with the moon, he brought forth children who were other stars—then why, O tomb, do you not tell me that Rome has gone blind now that the eyes of the Sebastos have closed?

The Tomb.

You have spoken correctly; yet look also on the rest for me, and weep, if any fountain of tears still remains for you. ^A For you are looking upon the overthrow of an entire lineage, and you are beholding the corruption of a royal house, the despoiling of a brilliant artistry, the bereavement of a naturally paired and beautiful marriage, and the turning of fortune’s dice toward the depths. You see that beautiful and blessed one, [her] arrayed in luxurious robes? You see that same one again in black [mourning] attire? Two images belong to one woman—that very one of whom I speak, the young widow. The one represents her prosperity of yesterday, the other her mourning and the things of her misfortune; for by shining together with her own morning star, she likewise set [as he did] in her vestments. But, O You who join spirit to flesh and loosen it, that You may join them again more mystically, unite once more those whom You have parted below, into one dwelling place and one delight; for You were not sent to divide, but to unite.

By the same [author].

To You, O table of the divine mysteries, which the blood and flesh of the Master adorns, I bring forward the gold-woven purple—the child of a purple-born mother, born of Theodora, a Comnenian daughter of a Comnenian mother, namely Mary, the wife of Constantine Camytzes. ^B I who shone together with him in the former life now share in the blackness of these latter misfortunes. But do You, O new bread and cup gushing forth life, make us the mystic guests of Your table at the last judgment, having mingled [us] with your own divine food. ^{C D}