Epistle XI. — Ausonius to Tetradius, Greeting

O THOU, who with copious eloquence enrichest our ancient stores of wit, Tetradius, and takest heed that thy tart compositions be not gloomy and bereft of sweetness; who, blending gall and honey in thy verse, sufferest not thy Muses to grow dull, and flavourest alike what is insipid to the taste and what bitter to the palate; thou who outstrip'st the unpolished Muses of Suessa, yielding in age to them but not in style; why dost thou shun me, neighbour to the walls of Saintes, as of old the Roman youth fled from the Lucanian oxen who renewed the battle with exceeding fury? Not like a tiger, not with lion's spring, but in fond love I seek thee out. I yearn to see my pupil's countenance and to enjoy the longed-for fruits of his mind. Reluctant hitherto I have gulped down the necessity which parted us in bygone days when Iculisma kept thee hidden, once fettered with the heavy chains of teaching, and I would grudge that in so remote and lonely a spot the Muses' handiwork was concealed. But now — seeing thou flourishest amid throngs of famous men and not far hence, where the wind wafts to thee my renown and talk of me rings in thine ears — why, puffing out thy chest with proud disdain, dost thou scorn me, a poet-consul, and to one who loves thee, admires thee, longs to enjoy thy verse, forgetfully show neglect and proud contempt? Thou shouldst be punished after thine own example, did not the loyalty of my heart, unmoved by time, love even the reluctant.

Farewell. If thou wilt my welfare, whirl here forthwith with writing-case and all thy Muses.