To Auxentius. (358)
I was about to scold you for your fondness for the countryside, convinced that you could have no excuse for rushing off there. But then I received the fruit you sent, and when I saw what your trees produce, I completely changed my mind. Now I am amazed that you can tear yourself away from such land even for a moment.
Perhaps this is what the famous garden was like -- the one said to have produced golden apples. They were not actually gold, of course, since that is not in the nature of plants, but their beauty earned them the reputation of gold. And yet, fine as your fruit is in season, your letter surpassed it -- so full of bloom it was.
Do honor the gods who watch over farming. And you need not trouble yourself with expensive offerings. Let them not be the sort of things a goldsmith's craft produces; rather, let the gods be honored from what they themselves have given. I am quite sure they would rather have clusters of grapes hung on their statues than golden cups.
**To Auxentius** (358)
I was about to reproach you for delighting in the countryside, supposing you could offer no argument to justify your rush out there. But since I received the fruit you sent and saw what manner of things the trees produce on your estate, I have reversed my judgment entirely — how can you bear to leave such land even for a short time?
Surely this is what that famous garden must have been like, the one reputed to have yielded golden apples — which were not actually gold, for that is not the way of growing things, but which earned their golden reputation through sheer beauty. And yet, fine as your fruit was in its ripeness, your letter surpassed it: so much did it partake of bloom.
Do tend to the gods who watch over agriculture. And you need not trouble yourself over the offerings — let them not be the sort that goldsmiths' craft produces, but rather let the gods be honored from what they themselves have given. For I know well that clusters of grapes hung upon their statues please them more than golden vessels.
I was about to scold you for your fondness for the countryside, convinced that you could have no excuse for rushing off there. But then I received the fruit you sent, and when I saw what your trees produce, I completely changed my mind. Now I am amazed that you can tear yourself away from such land even for a moment.
Perhaps this is what the famous garden was like -- the one said to have produced golden apples. They were not actually gold, of course, since that is not in the nature of plants, but their beauty earned them the reputation of gold. And yet, fine as your fruit is in season, your letter surpassed it -- so full of bloom it was.
Do honor the gods who watch over farming. And you need not trouble yourself with expensive offerings. Let them not be the sort of things a goldsmith's craft produces; rather, let the gods be honored from what they themselves have given. I am quite sure they would rather have clusters of grapes hung on their statues than golden cups.
Modern English rendering for readability. See the 19th-century translation or original Latin/Greek for scholarly use.