Gallio, it will be a scarcely excusable crime for me, that you have not had a name in my song.
For you too, I remember, cherished our wounds made by the heavenly spearpoint with your tears.
And would that, injured by the loss of your snatched friend, you had felt nothing further to complain of!
It did not please the gods so, who, cruel, did not hold it a sin to despoil you of your chaste wife.
§4.11.9nuntia nam luctus mihi nuper epistula venit, §4.11.10lectaque cum lacrimis sunt tua damna meis.
For recently a letter came to me as a messenger of grief, and your losses were read with my tears.
But neither would I, more foolish, dare to console you who are wise, nor to repeat to you the well-known words of the learned.
And I suspect that your grief, if not by reason, has already long since been ended by delay itself.
§4.11.15dum tua pervenit, dum littera nostra recurrens §4.11.16tot maria ac terras permeat, annus abit.
While your letter arrives, while our returning letter traverses so many seas and lands, a year slips away.
§4.11.17temporis officium est solacia dicere certi, §4.11.18dum dolor in cursu est et petit aeger opem.
It is the duty of a specific time to speak consolations, while grief is in progress and the sick person seeks help.
But when a long day has quieted the wounds of the mind, he who stirs them unseasonably, renews them.