Epicedion in Patrem

4. After God I have ever revered my father, and to my begetter I owed the second reverence. There follows, then, after this veneration of the most high God, the epicedion (funeral eulogy) of my father. The title is one dedicated to the honour of the dead by Greek authors, not ostentatious but devout; which I commend to my reader, whether he be a son or a father or both. Nor do I demand that he praise it; but I ask that he love it. Nor indeed do I now praise my father, because he has no need of it, and I ought not to burden the dead with the gratification of the living; nor do I say anything except what those acknowledge who took part in a portion of his life. But to say what is false now that he has met his death, and to keep silent the truth, I judge to be of the same guilt. These verses were inscribed beneath his portrait, and no less entered into the series of my little works. All my other things displease me; this I love to have read again.

My name is Ausonius, not the last in the art of healing; and, had you known my times, I was the first. I dwelt in neighbouring cities, by homeland and by household — Vasates my homeland, but Bordeaux my hearth. A double senate-house and each senate held me, free of office, sharing in the name. Neither rich nor needy, I lived thrifty without squalor: my food, my dress, my ways I kept ever the same. Unready in Latin speech, yet the Attic tongue sufficed me for the words of cultivated eloquence. I offered help to all who sought my art, unbought; and my service was joined with affection. I strove to win the good opinion of the good about me: I myself, with myself as judge, never pleased myself. The duties owed to many, with varied attention, I distributed according to persons, merits, and time. I abstained from lawsuits: I neither increased nor diminished my estate; by my information, nor yet by my testimony, did any man perish. I never envied; to crave and to canvass I shunned; to swear, or to speak falsely, I held the same. No faction joined me to itself, no conspiracy: with a sincere bond I cultivated my friendships. I knew that man to be happy not who had what he wished, but who did not crave what fate had not given. No buttonholer, no chatterer, watching for opportunities, I did not approach the things hidden behind doors and curtain. The report that could mangle the life of the good, I did not invent; and, if I knew the true one, I kept silent. Anger far off, vain hope far off, anxious care far off; and far off the false joys in the goods of men. I shunned gatherings and forswore tumults, and ever the feigned friendships of princes. To have done nothing amiss I thought ever a praise, and I set good morals before the laws. Ready to be angry, I hastened to bury the impulse, and I gave myself penalties for my levity. A marriage harmonious for nine lustra (forty-five years) without reproach I had — one; we begot four children. The first died at the breast; but he who was the last in age died, not raw in mind, though raw in his youth. The eldest reached the highest summit of honours, prefect of the Gauls and of Libya and of Latium; tranquil, clement, serene in eyes, voice, and face; toward his father, a child in mind and spirit. His son too and his son-in-law I saw as proconsul; that he himself should be consul was a sure hope to me. My daughter possessed a matron's glory, whose praise was excellent both as wife and as widow; who saw the houses of her son and son-in-law and grandson-in-law alike, all illustrious with manifold honour. I myself, neither courting nor disdaining honours, am named prefect of great Illyricum. This generous indulgence of fortune persuaded me, the divine power being adored, to ask the end of my life, lest any day should graze with a fatal bite the inviolable span of a fortunate life. I obtained it, and my prayers were heard: hope, vows, fear, lulled to rest, I leave to others in a placid end. Among my grieving — but I myself not grieving — friends, I lay down, the arbitrations of my funeral arranged. Ninety years I passed without a staff, sound in my whole body, unimpaired in all my offices. Whoever you are who shall read this, you will not scorn to say: "Such a life to you, as were your prayers to me."