§3.6.1Naso suo (posuit nomen quam paene!) sodali §3.6.2mittit ab Euxinis hoc breve carmen aquis, §3.6.3at si cauta parum scripsisset dextra quis esses, §3.6.4forsitan officio parta querella foret.
Naso to his companion (how nearly he wrote down the name!) sends this short poem from the Euxine waters, but if a hand too little cautious had written who you were, perhaps a complaint would have been produced by my dutiful attention.
Why, however, while others believe this is safe, do you alone, ask that my poems not address you?
How great Caesar's clemency is in the midst of his anger, if you do not know, you can be made more certain through me.
From this punishment which I suffer, I could subtract nothing, if I were compelled to be the judge of my own desert.
§3.6.11non vetat ille sui quemquam meminisse sodalis, §3.6.12nec prohibet tibi me scribere teque mihi.
He does not forbid anyone to remember his companion, nor does he prohibit me from writing to you, and you to me.
Nor would you commit a crime if you should console a friend, and with soft words lighten his harsh fate.
Why, while you fear safe things, do you cause such reverence to become a source of reproach to the majestic gods?
That those blasted by the bolts of lightning sometimes live we have seen, and are restored, Jupiter not forbidding it.
Nor, because Neptune had shattered the ship of Ulysses, did Leucothea refuse to bring aid to him as he swam.
Believe me, the heavenly divinities spare the wretched, nor do they always and without end oppress those who are hurt.
Nor is any god more moderate than our leader: he tempers his strength with Justice.
Lately Caesar, in a temple built of marble for her, has long since established her in the shrine of his own mind.
Jupiter hurls his reckless thunderbolts against many, who have not deserved to suffer punishment by any fault.
The god of the sea overwhelms him with so many savage waves, yet of those, how small a part was worthy to be drowned?
Since the bravest perish in battle, even by the judgment of Mars himself, the selection will be unjust.
But if by chance you should wish to inquire into my case, there is no one who would deny that he has fully deserved what he suffers.
Add that those destroyed either by water, or by war, or by fire, no day can ever restore.
§3.6.37restituit multos aut poenae parte levavit §3.6.38Caesar: et in multis me, precor, esse velit,
Caesar has restored many, or lightened them of a part of their punishment: and may he wish, I pray, that I be among those many.
But you, since we are a people under such a leader, do you believe there is danger in speaking to an exile?
§3.6.41forsitan haec domino Busiride iure timeres, §3.6.42aut solito clausos urere in aere viros, §3.6.43desine mitem animum vano infamare timore, §3.6.44saeva quid in placidis saxa vereris aquis?
Perhaps you would justly fear these things if Busiris were master, or him who was accustomed to burn enclosed men in the bronze, cease to defame a gentle mind with empty fear; why do you fear savage rocks in calm waters?
§3.6.45ipse ego quod primo scripsi sine nomine vobis, §3.6.46vix excusari posse mihi videor, §3.6.47sed pavor attonito rationis ademerat usum, §3.6.48cesserat omne novis consiliumque malis, §3.6.49fortunamque meam metuens, non vindicis inani, §3.6.50terrebar titulo nominis ipse mei.
That I myself at first wrote to you without a name, I seem to myself to be scarcely able to be excused, but fear had taken away the use of reason from my stunned mind, and all prudence had yielded to these new evils, and fearing my fortune, not the avenger, I was terrified by the empty title of my own name.
Having been thus far admonished, yield to the mindful poet that he may place dear names in his papers.
It will be shameful for both of us, if you, closest to me by long intimacy, are read of in no part of my book.
§3.6.55ne tamen iste metus somnos tibi rumpere possit, §3.6.56non ultra, quam vis, officiosus ero, §3.6.57teque tegam, qui sis, nisi cum permiseris ipse: §3.6.58cogetur nemo munus habere meum.
Lest, however, that fear of yours be able to break your sleep, I will not be dutiful beyond what you wish, and I will conceal you, who you are, unless when you yourself have permitted it: no one will be compelled to have my gift.