Letter 123: "Even if there is utter forgetfulness of the dead in Hades, I shall remember there my beloved companion" [Homer,...

To Troilus. "Even if there is utter forgetfulness of the dead in Hades, I shall remember there my beloved companion" [Homer, Iliad 22.389]. Homer wrote those lines, but I do not know whether they apply more fittingly to Achilles and Patroclus than to me and you. I call God — whom philosophy reveres — to witness: I carry the image of your sweet and devout nature in my very heart. The echo of your wise words still sounds in my ears. When I returned from Egypt to my own city and read through all your letters from the past two years, I watered them with my tears — not from the usual joy your words bring me, but from sadness, remembering our living fellowship and thinking of the friend and father I am deprived of, though he still lives. I would gladly endure worse struggles on my city's behalf if it gave me a pretext to leave and come to you. Will I ever have the happiness of seeing you again, truest of fathers? Of embracing your sacred head, and joining that council that your words enchant? If this joy is granted me, I will prove by my own example that the poets' story of Aeson the Thessalian is no fable — they say he was made young again in his old age.

Letter 123: Missing an Old Friend [1] To Troilus Even though there shall be utter forgetfulness of the dead in Hades, I shall remember there my so dear companion. note [Homer, Iliad 22.389.] [2] These lines were written by Homer , but as to the meaning of them, I know not whether they rightly apply to Achilles and Patroclus more than to me in relation to your beneficent and beloved person. I call God to witness, whom philosophy reveres, that I carry with me the image of your sweet and pious nature in my very heart. The wondrous echo of your words of wisdom resounds in my ears. When I came back from Egypt to my own city, and when I read all your letters of the two last years, I watered them with my tears. For I got no pleasure from the letters, out of the joy I always take in you, but rather sadness, recalling in them your living fellowship, and thinking of what a friend and father alike I am bereaved, although one who is in reality living. [3] Willingly would I undergo more weighty struggles in behalf of my city, if only I might again have a pretext for leaving it. Shall I ever have the happiness of seeing you, O truest of fathers, and of embracing your sacred head, and of joining with that council that your word captivates? If this joy is given me, I shall prove by my own example that what the poets recount of Aeson the Thessalian is not after all a fable; they aver that he was twice endowed with youth, changing to a young man in his old age.