Letter 193

193. To Meletius the chief physician.

We have not so much as the cranes have, the power to escape the hardships of winter; but as for foreseeing the future, we are perhaps no worse than the cranes, while in the freedom of our way of life we fall as far short of the birds as we do, very nearly, of the power to fly. For first, certain engagements with the affairs of life held me back; then continuous and violent fevers so wasted my body that something even thinner than I appeared — namely, I myself; and after that, attacks of quartan fever lasting for more than twenty cycles. And now, when I think I am rid of the fevers, I am so reduced by weakness that in this I fall nothing short of a spider's web. Hence every road is impassable to me, and every gust of wind brings me more danger than the great waves bring those who sail. There is no choice, then, but to be hidden under a small roof, and to await the spring — if indeed we are able to hold out until it, and do not perish first from the malady that has settled in our inward parts. But if the Lord preserves us with his great hand, most gladly will we make our way to your retreat, and most gladly will we embrace you, that head so dear to us. Only pray that our life may be ordered to the soul's advantage.