Epistles 1.3 (Fairclough)

I long to know, Julius Florus, in what regions of the earth Claudius, step-son of Augustus, is now campaigning. Does Thrace stay your steps, and Hebrus, bound in snowy fetters, or the straits that run between neighbouring towers, or Asia’s fertile plains and hills?

What works is the learned staff composing? This, too, I want to know. Who takes upon him to record the exploits of Augustus? Who adown distant ages makes known his deeds in war and peace? What of Titius, soon to be on the lips of Romans, who quailed not at draughts of the Pindaric spring, but dared to scorn the open pools and streams? How fares he? How mindful is he of me? Does he essay, under favour of the Muse, to fit Theban measures to the Latin lyre? Or does he storm and swell in the tragic art? What, pray, is Celsus doing? He was warned, and must often be warned to search for home treasures, and to shrink from touching the writings which Apollo on the Palatine has admitted: lest, if some day perchance the flock of birds come to reclaim their plumage, the poor crow, stripped of his stolen colours, awake laughter. And yourself—what do you venture on? About what beds of thyme are you busily flitting? No small gift is yours: not untilled is the field, or rough-grown and unsightly. Whether you sharpen your tongue for pleading, or essay to give advice on civil law, or build charming verse, you will win the first prize of the victor’s ivy. But could you but lay aside your cares—those cold compresses—you would rise to where heavenly wisdom would lead. This task, this pursuit let us speed, small and great alike, if we would live dear to our country, and dear to ourselves.

This, too, when you reply, you must tell me—whether you esteem Munatius as much as you should. Or does your friendship, like a wound ill-stitched, close vainly and tear open once more? Yet, whether hot blood or ignorance of the world drives you both, wild steeds with untamed necks, wherever on earth you are living—you who are too good to break the bond of brotherhood—a votive heifer is fattening against your return.