A New Rome, seat of other nobles, city of Constantine, and column of the empire: hear, O men, a man most averse to falsehood, one who has suffered many things in many vicissitudes, from which much may be learned. 20 Everything has collapsed; even honorable things have succumbed to time, and nothing or little remains, just as when earth is swept away by the force of violent rains, and nothing is left but pebbles. 25 There is nothing great yet, if I speak of the many who were not previously ranked among the good, having become like cattle, prone and looking downward. We are that violent and rough torrent; our order is dissolved, I speak with weeping, we who sit not well upon the lofty throne, A 30 leaders of the people, teachers of the good, who have been assigned to nourish souls with divine food, while we ourselves suffer from hunger; physicians of illnesses, yet dead ourselves and teeming with countless diseases; guides of the steep, rugged paths, 35 which they have never led through nor even trodden themselves; whom to follow is not a brief precept, but the very widest doctrine of salvation; whose throne is an accuser of their morals, and whose chancel rails divide not their lives, but their haughty brows. 40 From whence I was led to commit these things to writing (for it does not please me to pile up many words in vain), let all hear, both those who now are, and those who shall be hereafter. But it is necessary to repeat my own story from a little higher up, even if it might be lengthy. B
METRICAL VERSION
New Rome, seat and second home of nobles, column of the kingdom, which the father of Constantius built; hear me, I pray, speaking most truthfully, who has endured many things in varying circumstances, from which knowledge grows. All goods have perished in the passage of time, they have perished. Nothing now remains, or certainly little; as when the great force of rains has carried off the earth, nothing more remains beyond the pebbles. Nor is it a wonderful thing, if I speak thus of the common rabble, which before was not in the assembly of the good, but was like cattle clinging to the ground. That torrent is not it, we ourselves are that torrent, and our order is dissolved, I speak with weeping: we who sit not well on lofty thrones, B good teachers, and prelates of the people, nourishing our minds with sacred food, when we are ourselves pressed by famine: applying medicines to the sick, while we ourselves nevertheless teem with ulcers: guides of ways, perhaps slippery ones, which the leaders themselves never happen to traverse: whom not to follow when they walk is a brief dogma, by which one may fittingly provide for his own salvation: and whose character the sanctuary convicts, and the partition, cutting off pride, not the lives themselves. Furthermore, what may have induced me to these words (for it does not please me to say many things in vain), let those who now live hear, and those who come after. But I must repeat my own mishaps a little higher up, although the future account may be longer.SECTION I. POEMS CONCERNING HIMSELF
45 That lying words may not prevail against me. For the wicked are accustomed, regarding the things they do wickedly, To shift the causes onto those who suffer, So that they may do harm even more by their falsehoods, And absolve themselves of their crimes. 50 Let this be the prelude to the discourse. I had a father, noble and very good, A An old man, simple in his ways, a standard of life, A patriarch in truth, a second Abraham, Being good, not merely seeming so, not in the modern fashion; 55 Formerly a creature of error, afterwards a friend of Christ, Then a shepherd, a pillar of shepherds. And my mother—to speak briefly—the equal yoke-fellow Of such a man, and an unwavering talent, Formerly from pious parents, yet more pious herself, 60 Female in body, but in character beyond men. Both were on the lips of all, equally for their integrity of life. What is the proof of this? How shall I verify my discourse? I will bring forward as witness of the things I have spoken The woman who bore me, the very mouth of truth, 65 Accustomed rather to hide something of what was manifest, Than to boast of hidden things for the sake of glory; For fear led her, which is the great teacher. She, desiring to see the birth of a male child In her home, a matter precious to many, 70 Held converse with God, and asked to obtain her desire. And since she was scarcely able to restrain the impulse of her mind, The gift she asked to receive, she gives back to God, Anticipating the gift itself with her readiness of heart; And thus she did not fail in her dear prayer,
B Anna, wife of Elkanah, being of a bitter spirit, prayed to the Lord weeping profusely, and vowed a vow, saying: "O Lord of hosts, if looking upon me thou shalt see the affliction of thy handmaid, and shalt be mindful of me, and shalt not forget thy handmaid, and shalt give unto thy handmaid the male sex, I will give him unto the Lord all the days of his life," etc. And having obtained her vow, she bore Samuel.
METRICAL VERSION
Sermo, innocentem falsa ne verba obruant. Est quippe mos hic improbis, ut conferant Causam suorum criminum in læsos, eis Per ficta noceant ut magis mendacia, In seque jacta diluant sic crimina. Sermonis autem sit mei hoc primordium. Erat pater mi vir probus valde, senex, Simplexque, vitæ regula et certissima, Patriarchus alter Abraham: non tam studens Fama esse, quam re vir bonus, contra atque nunc. Primum erro, Christi cultor at post fervidus, Exinde pastor, ordinis decus et sui. Itemque mater, ut brevi dicam, tori Consorte tali digna, nec minor viro: Prognata sanctis, sanctior parentibus, B Sexu mulier, at moribus supra viros. Uterque pariter omnium in linguis situs. Hoc unde monstrem si quis ex me postulet, Ipsam citabo protinus dicti mei Testem parentem, nemo qua veracior : Ut quæ sileret clara potius omnibus, Quam quid referret abditi, laudem aucupans. Magnus magister namque erat dux huic timor. Cupiebat illa masculum fetum domi Spectare, magna ut pars cupit mortalium. Deum ergo supplex orat ut vota expleat. Atque ut negabat impetus freno regi, Quem postulabat, hunc statim donat Deo, Alacritate mentis id donum occupans. Nec vero id ejus irritum votum fuit,
A but there came to her a favorable prelude, a vision bearing the shadow of the things requested. For my form appeared openly, and my name; and the grace of the night was the fulfillment of the work. For I became for them—if I was worthy of a prayer—the gift of the God who gave me; but if I was unworthy, it was to be attributed to my sin. Thus, then, I passed into this life, mixed with clay—alas, poor wretch!—and with a compound [nature], by which we are ruled, or which we rule with difficulty. 85 Yet, having received the very birth itself as a pledge of every good thing—for it is not right to be ungrateful—as soon as I came [to light], I immediately became "alien," a noble alienation. For to God A I stand like some lamb, or a dear calf, 90 a sacrifice noble and honored by reason. For I hesitate to call myself as some young Samuel, unless I look toward the longing of those who gave me [to God]. Nourished in all good things from the cradle (for I had the best examples at home), 95 I already took on a certain gravity of old age, and there was gathering within me, little by little, like a cloud from a cloud, the zeal for what is better. I advanced forward, with reason also keeping pace, and I took pleasure in the books that are advocates for God, 100 and I associated with men of the most excellent way of life. Such, then, were these things; but as for the rest, I do not know which path of discourse I should take.
[alt-version omitted]
METRICAL VERSION
But there came to her a convenient prelude, a vision bringing the shadow of the thing requested. For our face openly presents itself to her, and the name, and what she had seen, this was the reality. For I am born to them; if indeed I am worthy of the vows of my parent, this gift is of the Most High God: but if otherwise, by Heaven, the fault is entirely my own. Thus I came into this life unhappy, fashioned from clay, and joined to a heavy body, by which I am either conquered, or I emerge as victor only with difficulty. Yet since I have received the pledge of every good—that I have obtained this birth—it is fitting that I acknowledge the favor. B Yet, scarcely born, I immediately become of another's jurisdiction, and that beautifully. For I am offered to God, as a calf, or a lamb, both a victim and most noble, endowed with reason. For I would not dare to say [I am] like Samuel, unless I consider the vows and the pious zeal of those who gave me to the Divine. Thus, educated well from the cradle (for I had truly excellent examples at home), I already bore some gravity of the aged, and zeal for the right was growing little by little in my heart, just as clouds are wont to do from clouds. Growing, furthermore, in age, and at the same time in reason, I read the books that favor the cause of God, willingly, and I was often with men of upright life. And let these things be said thus far: now, what path of discourse I am to follow, my mind is in doubt.
A Shall I conceal the wonders by which God urged me on, Having taken readiness as my excellent beginning— 105 (For so He knows how to draw one toward salvation)— Or shall I willingly speak them forth into the midst? For the one course is ungrateful, and the other is not free of pride. Better to be silent. It will suffice that I myself know them, Lest the present life seem to war against my words, 110 Being so far distant from that former readiness. But what is necessary, I shall make known to the majority. My cheeks without down, and a warm love of letters Possessed me. For I sought to provide the false Letters as auxiliaries to the true, 115 So that those who had learned nothing at all— Save for vain and empty eloquence, Which resides in noise and throats, B And which neither entangles me in the snares of sophistries— Might not puff themselves up. C That thought never entered my mind: 120 To prefer anything to my own studies. But that which the fervor of youth always suffers, Which is easily tossed about by disorderly impulses, Like a foal dashing into a race, full of spirit, This I suffered. For, being entirely out of 125 Season, with the sea not yet calmed, When those skilled in such things say the "Tail of the Bull" Is not without danger—a voyage of recklessness, not of wisdom— Then, therefore, having left Alexandria (For from there, too, I had plucked some portion of learning), 130 I set sail and was cutting across the Pontus straight for Greece, Coasting by the side of Cyprus; and a turmoil of winds Made the ship seethe, and all things were one night [of darkness].
A Земля, the sea, the air, and the heavens were shadowed with darkness; B Thunder reverberated with flashes of lightning. 135 The rigging of the swelling sails groaned. The mast bowed, and the steering-oars had no strength; For they were violently snatched from the hands. The ship was filled with water rising over the sides. A confused cry, full of lamentations, was heard 140 From the sailors, the boatswains, the masters, and the passengers, All calling upon Christ with one accord, And even those who formerly did not know God; For fear is a most timely instructor. But that which was the most grievous of all evils 145 Was the ship being without water: for immediately, as it began to turn violently, The ship, broken open, was scattered into the deep sea, That ship which carried our sweet treasure of water. There was a struggle against hunger, and turmoil, and winds, To become corpses. For this, God 150 Sent a swift deliverance. For some Phoenician merchants, Appearing suddenly, even though they were in fear, When they learned through our prayers of the magnitude of our danger, By the bracing of poles and the heaving of hands, C Binding the ship tighter (for they were men of great strength), 155 They saved us, already corpses of the deep, Like fish failing out of the sea, Or a lamp flickering out for lack of oil. But the sea grew savage and roared all the more. D [alt-version omitted]
A The deep [raged] against us for many days, 150 nor did we know, as we were tossed by many turnings, where we were sailing, nor did anyone see salvation from God. But all, fearing the common death, which was hidden, I feared [even] more. For from the cleansing waters, by which we are deified, 165 I was kept apart by the guest-slaying waters. This was my lamentation, this my calamity; to this I sent up cries, stretching out my hands, which [sounded] louder than the deep gulf of the waves, tearing my robe, lying prone, miserable. 170 And—a thing not credible, yet most true—all, letting go of their own calamity, 684-685 joined their suppliant cries with mine, the pious sailors in common evils; so much did they suffer with my distresses.
B You were also then, O Christ, my great savior, and now you free me from the waves of this life. For since there was nothing of good hope, no island, no mainland, no mountain peaks, no beacon, no stars to guide the sailors, 180 nothing small or great among the things that are seen, what [was I to] devise? What path out of the difficulties? Despairing of all things below, I looked to you, my life, my breath, my light, my power, my salvation, terrifying, striking, smiling, healing, 185 always intertwining the good with the contrary. I reminded you of all your ancient wonders, by which we acknowledge your mighty hand: the sea parted, Israel walking through, enemies defeated by the lifting of hands, 190 [and the] Egyptians broken by scourges.
With these same commanders, having reduced the creation to servitude, and walls destroyed by trumpets and by running. Adding my own words to those famous events of old: A “Yours,” I said, “I am both formerly and now still; 195 you shall receive me twice, a possession most precious to you, a gift of earth and sea, purified by my mother’s prayer and by extraordinary fears. For you I shall live, if I escape this twofold danger; you will lose a servant if you cast me off. 200 Even now your disciple is agitated in the turbulence. Rouse me from sleep, or walk [with me], and let fear cease.” This I said; and the fury of the winds ceased, the sea fell calm, and the ship sailed straight. B And this also became a profit of my 205 prayer; for the entire company of the ship, having become piously affected toward the great Christ, went away, having received a double salvation from God. Passing by Rhodes, a little later we arrived at the harbor of Aegina (for the 210 ship was Aeginetan), sailing with favorable winds. Thence, Athens, and letters. But as to what we did there, let others speak: how we lived in the fear of God, being the first among those who knew the first things; how, in the bloom of youth and the surge of boldness, 215 when others together with various cohorts were acting in a frenzy, we lived a quiet life there C (like some fountain, I think, in the sea, sweet amidst the bitter waters, as is commonly believed), neither drawn by those who carry others toward ruin, 220 but ourselves drawing our friends toward the best things. For God had conferred this blessing upon me also; he brought and joined me to a most wise man,
SECTION I: POEMS CONCERNING HIMSELF
the man who surpassed all others in both life and eloquence. Who is this? You will surely recognize him with the greatest ease. 225 It was Basil, the great benefit of our current life. Him I had as a companion in eloquence, in shelter, and in my considerations—if, indeed, it is permitted to boast—we were a pair not unknown in Greece. All things were indeed common, and we were one soul, 230 lacking only the separation of two bodies. But what led us together specifically into one, this was God, and the desire for higher things. For from the moment we reached such a degree of confidence as to speak out even the depths of our hearts, 235 we were bound together more tightly by longing. For like-mindedness is a sure path to union.
A What then remained? Our homeland and the patterns of our lives. For a long time had been worn away in study; 240 I had already reached almost my thirtieth year. There I recognized what kind of longing they had for us, and what opinion my fellow students held of us. The time was present, and the great labor was present. There was need of embraces and of the mournful words 245 of those departing, and of reminders to be carried away in memory. To the one [Basil], though with force and with difficulty, they yielded, even though he offered many reasons for his departure. But for me, even now, the tear runs down 250 as I remember the commotion of that time. All surrounded me with great haste: strangers, acquaintances, peers, teachers.
METRICAL VERSION
The man who surpassed all in life and letters. Who is this? It shall be known to you shortly. Basilius, the greatest good of our age. He was my companion in letters, in shelter, and— If I may boast a little, if this be permitted— We were a certain pair, illustrious among the Greeks. Nothing was proper to one, but all things common: One mind bound a double body for us. Nothing joined us as equally as the worship of God, And a fervent desire for higher things. For after we reached this point of confidence, That one might reveal to another the depths of the heart, From this we were bound by a firmer tie. For a like will binds minds more tightly. B
What now remained? Homeland, and a way of life. For a vast time had already flowed by in letters; And I had then passed almost thirty years. Here, I discovered with certain faith what love Our fellow students had for us, and what opinion they held. The day was now present, and a great labor also: There was need for embraces, and at the exit for sad Words, by which love catches fire. To the companion they indeed yielded, though unwillingly, As he brought forward many things that compelled him to depart. But to me, even now, tears flow from my eyes Whenever I am mindful of that commotion, For the entire cohort of my peers was surrounding me, Teachers, those known to me, and those unknown,
A With oaths and lamentations, and even mixing in some force— For love persuaded them to dare even this— They held me fast, and said that they would never Let me be sent from thence; for it was not fitting 255 That honored Athens should fall away from us, As if they were to grant me the authority of their vote in discourse. Until at last they softened—for it was a feat To stand against so many lamentations and words, Only an oak could have done so— Yet not completely; for my fatherland pulled me back, 260 Pre-eminent in faith, one might say, among all beneath the sun, In which it seemed a noble thing to engage in philosophy, And my parents, weary with age and time. Still, then, having remained at Athens a little while, I stole my departure away in secret. 265 I came; I gave a specimen of my eloquence, satisfying the "malady" of some Who demanded this of me as if it were a debt. For I cared nothing for applause and noisy acclaim, Nor for the soft and convoluted declamations In which sophists delight in the companies of youth. 270 But this I first set before myself as a philosophy: To cast away for God the rest, and also the labors of eloquence, Just as those who abandon their sheep-grazing properties, Or who have gathered gold into the depths of the salt sea. But, as I said, I danced for my friends. 275 These were, as it were, preludes to my struggles, Or an initiation preceding greater mysteries. B It was now time for manly counsels. I sit within, calling my friends to deliberation,
A Sincere monitors of my own thoughts. 280 A vehement storm held my mind in its grip, As I sought the better part among the things that are better. Long ago it had been resolved to cast the things of the flesh Into the abyss, and then that pleased me all the more. But as I contemplated the ways that lead to God, 285 It was not easy to find which one was the better and more level. For one thing seemed good or evil in the eyes of one, Another in the eyes of others, as often happens in matters of action. My own case, to compare it to a likeness, was such as this: I was pondering a long, vast journey— 290 I had fled the voyage and the labors of the sea, And was tracking down whichever path might be the more practicable. I had in my thoughts Elias the Tishbite, And great Carmel, or his strange sustenance, And the wilderness, the possession of the Forerunner, 295 And the unencumbered life of the sons of Jonadab. But again a desire for the holy Books laid hold of me, And the light of the Spirit in the contemplation of the Word— A business not at all suited to the desert or to tranquility. Until, having been moved again and again towards both sides, 300 I finally settle the matter for my desires in this way, And I brought the wandering of my mind to a moderate stop. For I saw that those whom the active life delights, While useful to others, to those who live in the world, Are useless to themselves, and tossed about by troubles, 305 By which their gentle character is cast into waves. Those, however, who are outside are somewhat more stable, And look toward God with a quiet mind, But are useful to themselves alone, with narrow charity.
A And to live a life apart and harsh, 310 I came to a middle way between the unmarried and the mixed, Bringing the contemplation of the one and the goodness of the other. And there was present something greater, namely, grace toward those venerable ones, I speak of those who gave me birth, to whom I was a debtor. Their old age (for it is most pious 315 To render to parents the first honor after God, From whom it also comes that we know God) I cherished, and strengthened with all my might; I led them by the hand, so that I might prepare for myself A prosperous old age, while having pity on their old age. 320 For we reap such things as we sow. This was a part of my philosophical instruction, Not to seem to labor through the primary life, But to be, rather than to seem, a friend to God;
B I thought it necessary to love also those who are practical, 325 As many as have obtained some honor from God, Leading the people with divine rites. But a greater love for the monastic life held me, Even though I seemed to be joined with many; For the monastic life is a matter of habits, not of bodies. 330 The throne was indeed venerable to me, but as one standing Afar off, as the light of the sun to weak eyes. I would have hoped for anything More than to accept this, in the many turnings of life. Speak nothing great too quickly, being but human. 335 Envy always cuts down those things which are raised high. Take no examples from elsewhere, but look to my case. For him who thinks thus, a terrible storm descends. For my father, although very accurately...
known to my mind, I know not whence, A 340 perhaps moved by fatherly love (and love combined with power is a terrible thing), to bind me with the chains of the Spirit, and to decorate me with what he had that was best, constrained me violently to take the second seat. 345 Thus, then, was I pained by this tyranny (for I cannot call it otherwise, and may the divine Spirit forgive me for being so affected), that suddenly, having been released from all—friends, parents, fatherland, and kin—350 like cattle stung by a gadfly, I came to Pontus, intending to find for myself a remedy for my distress in a friend full of God. For there he practiced the communal life with God, covered by a cloud, like some wise man of old; 355 this was Basil, who is now with the angels. By him, the grief of my mind was softened. But when my good father, laboring under old age and longing for me, prayed much to his son to offer honor to his final breaths, 360 and when time brewed misfortune for me—which indeed should never have happened—I ran again into the deep, fearing the groan of paternal movements, lest my love collapse into a curse; such is simplicity stirred to anger. 365 A little time passed, and again a storm, more savage than words can say. But nothing is lost by explaining everything to friends. My brother was performing a certain secular office. B
A My brother! O most wicked one, how powerful you are! 370 He was the guardian of the treasury. But in the midst of his duty he dies, and a pack of dogs rushes upon the money and remnants of the deceased. Servants, strangers, and friends all tear everything apart. For who, when an oak has fallen, does not gather wood for himself? 375 As for me, so far as I am concerned, I would never have feared the incursions of affairs; for I am a bird, easily flying off to the heights. Yet it was necessary to endure everything together with my noble father, both the good and the contrary, 380 being a partner in affairs, though not in money. But just as those who have fixed their footing at first, once they stumble, fall into the depth of a precipice, no longer in control of themselves, B so also to me, having tasted of evils, 385 other troubles arose one after another. At one time there came to us—I will pass over the things in between, so as not to seem to bring an accusation against a man whom I have just now ceased praising—but there came to us the dearest of my friends, 390 Basil (alas, what shall I say? Yet I will say it), another father to me, much harsher. For one had to endure the former, even if he played the tyrant, but there was no necessity to endure the latter, for friendship that brings loss and does not deliver from evils 395 does not create such an obligation. I do not know if I should rather blame my own sins, which have bitten me much and often—the thing that happened effervesces always as if it were fresh—or your arrogance,
or rather the throne which has breathed its spirit into you. 400 For in all other matters, in our equal studies, perhaps you would not have thought yourself to excel, as indeed, most excellent one, you did not think formerly; or if you had thought so, perhaps some fair judge who knew us both well would have restrained you. 405 What then has happened to you? How is it that you have so suddenly cast us aside? May that law of friendship that so honors friends perish from life. Yesterday we were lions, but today I am a monkey, while to you even a lion is a small affair. 410 But if you regarded all your friends in such a way—I shall speak with a loud voice—you should have made an exception of me, whom you once used to place before all other friends, before being raised on high you held all things beneath you. A Ah, my soul, why do you boil? Restrain your steed by force. 415 Let the discourse turn once again toward the mark. That man was B a liar to me, though otherwise the most truthful of men, who, having often heard me say that all things are currently bearable to me, even if worse should befall, but that if my parents should leave this life, 420 it would be entirely reasonable for me to abandon all affairs, so that I might gain some fruit from a homeless life, easily becoming a citizen of any place—though he heard these things and approved of them in his own judgment, 425 yet he, along with my father, forced me into the episcopal throne, twice tripping me up in this way. Do not yet be troubled until you have learned the whole matter. If enemies had spent a long time deliberating on how they might disgrace me, I do not believe they would have found any other way.
430 Do you wish to hear? All those to whom the affair seemed unbecoming will tell you. As for how I conducted myself toward my friend, Pontus knows, and the city of the Caesareans knows, and all our mutual friends. 435 For it is petty to throw these things in my teeth; it is appropriate for someone who has received a benefit to be mindful of the benefits he has received, but by no means for the one who conferred them. As for what sort of person he was toward me, let the facts themselves bear witness. There is a certain station in the middle of a public highway 440 of the Cappadocians, which splits into a three-way road—waterless, grassless, and lacking everything refined—a miserably unpleasant and narrow little village. A Everything here is dust and noise and chariots, funerals, groans, tax collectors, torture, shackles, 445 and a multitude of people, those who are strangers and wanderers. This was the church of my Sasima. To these people he relegated me, he who had fifty chorepiscopi and was not lacking in resources—oh, what munificence! And even this was so that, while another was seizing it by force, 450 he might hold onto the chair by creating a new one. For we were counted among the first of his martial friends—for I was indeed a bold man once—and there is nothing terrible in blessed wounds. For in addition to the other things I have recounted, 455 it was not even possible to hold the throne without bloodshed; for it was a frontier between two rivals.
SECTION I. POEMS ABOUT HIMSELF
This was the state of things; and a terrible strife had grown up, A whose architect was the division of the fatherland, which established two cities as mothers of minor provinces. 460 Souls were the pretext, but in reality it was the love of lordship; for I am reluctant to say it, these revenues and tributes, by which the whole world is miserably agitated. What, then, before God, was it right for me to do? To remain? To accept the onsets of evils, 465 to be struck down untimely? To be choked in the mire, and not even to have a place where I might shelter this old age, constantly being thrust by force from my roof? Not having even bread to break for a guest, a poor man chosen to guide a poor people, 470 seeing absolutely nothing that I could successfully accomplish, but abounding in the evils which occur in cities: reaping the thorns of the tares, and not gathering roses, plucking evils stripped of any good? Ask of me some other fortitude, if you wish, 475 and propose this to those who are wiser than I. Such were the things Athens produced, and our shared labors in literature, and our life under the same roof and sharing the same table, one mind in both, not two—a wonder to Greece— B and the joining of right hands, that we might cast the world far away, 480 and ourselves might live a common life for God, and dedicate our words to the one wise Word. All has been scattered, all is cast to the ground, the winds carry away our ancient hopes. Where might one wander? Wild beasts, will you not receive me? 485 Among whom there is more trust, as it seems to me. Thus did these things stand, to speak briefly.
[alt-version omitted]
A Since, however, I was bowed down—not in spirit, but in neck—what shall I say? From whence could I represent to you my entire anguish? Again, spurs are in me; 490 again, a certain flight and a running to the mountain, stealing away the manner of life I loved, my own delight. But what is the gain to me? For I was not, it seems, a steadfast fugitive. But, knowing how to endure all things, in this one thing I am lowborn: I cannot bear the anger of my father. 495 At first, then, my father makes a struggle to settle me at Sasima; but when he was weak, there was a second course: that I should not remain below, but labor with him (for he was already heavy B in body) and lighten his burdens, 500 stretching out his hands, and of this beard—laying hold, with what words does he use toward me?
"A father entreats you, dearest of sons, the old father the young, the master his servant, by nature and by a twofold law. 505 I do not ask you for gold, nor stones, nor silver, nor fields, my child, nor whatever belongs to luxury. I seek to place you near Aaron and Samuel, a precious attendant to God. He who gave you keeps you; child, do not dishonor me, 510 that you may meet with the grace of the only Father. The request is noble; but if not, it is nonetheless a father's. You have not yet traversed as much life as the time I have passed in offerings. Grant me this favor, grant it; or let another commit me to the tomb!"
METRICAL VERSION
B As my neck is bent, but not my spirit, what shall I say, and in what way shall I disclose to you all my sorrow? I am stung again here, and again I plot a flight, and I quickly seek the mountain, and I pursue by stealth the kind of life I love. What has this profited me? For I was no steadfast fugitive; yet although I am firm in other matters, here I am craven: I cannot bear a father’s wrath. And at first he attempts to plant me at Sasima. When I stubbornly refuse this, he holds to another course, and asks that I not remain in a low station, but that I labor with him (for he was now very heavy with age), and that I be ready to lighten his burden: and he stretches out his hands, and at the same time takes hold of my beard, and uses these words to me: "O dear son, a father asks you as a suppliant, the old man asks the vigorous one, the master his servant. For nature and a double law subject you to me. I do not ask for money, nor shining stones, nor lands, nor whatever soft luxury commands. I desire to join you to Aaron and to the child of Anna, so that you may always assist the all-powerful God. He who gave you, has you; son, do not spurn your father. Thus may He alone be a gracious Father to you; I ask what is honorable: but if not, a father asks it. Not yet are your years as many as the years I have spent in sacred sacrifices; give what I ask, give it, I pray, or let another commit my body to the grave."