Letter 108
The news that you're at Milan reached me by rumor before your letter arrived — fame lets nothing about prominent men go unnoticed. But what good does it do those of us who miss you that you've traveled to a place so near and yet still deny us your presence?
I bore your distant separation more easily; when hope of seeing you is blocked by a vast distance, it simply goes quiet. But now you tease my expectations with the ease of proximity — and you can't even use the Alps as your excuse, since the road that makes your case for pardon weaker makes my case for complaint stronger.
But I should put a limit on my grievance. At least let your letters visit Rome more often from now on — letters sweet as the honey of Hybla or Mount Hymettus [both proverbially celebrated for their fine honey]: receiving them is a pleasure beyond measure; repaying the debt is exhausting. Farewell.
Modern English rendering for readability. See the 19th-century translation or original Latin/Greek for scholarly use.
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