Letter 157
To Chryso-
To all others spring is delightful, because it beautifies the face of the earth with flowers and makes the whole country a meadow. To me its great charm is that it allows me by writing to be with my own dear flowers. Would that I could behold you face to face! As this joy, however, is denied me, I very eagerly do what I may, and consort with you by letter. Sailors and seamen do not feel as great pleasure in cutting through the expanse of the sea when this time of year has come, as I feel in taking up my pen, paper, and ink to write to your charming self. In winter time, when everything was in the grip of frost and when the roads were blocked by unspeakable snow, no one dared to come to visit us from the outer world, and no one dared to go away from here. Shut up here in our houses, then, as in a prison, we were to our regret condemned to keep this long silence, the lack of letter-carriers acting as a sort of muzzle; but to-day, now that the mild season has opened the public roads and has loosened our tongue-strings, we hasten to send away to your excellency the presbyter who is living with us, that he may obtain some news of your health. Give him, most admirable chief, the sort of reception that he deserves. Turn a sympathetic eye upon him, and when he comes back, let us know, I beg of you, the state of your health, for you know how anxious we are to hear about it.
Letter 158
To Chryso-
The son of Laertes, Odysseus of many wiles, after receiving from
Acolus the treasure-stores of winds, was approaching rocky Ithaca, and was already
listening to the songs of birds, but through the contrivances of his comrades he was
driven far away from his native place.
We, alas, hearing the song of birds and the barking of dogs, and being
so near our friends themselves that we almost hear their talk, return home, deprived of
those longed for, who long for us, and we acquiesce in a fortune that so tramples on us
insatiably. We are slaves to time, and we yield to circumstances whereby the intellect is
overcome, and the soul made to suffer exceedingly under the pressure of necessity. And you
yourself, sweetest of friends, who know well our love, since you love us, continue then to
pray for us. Farewell.