This subject, on account of which I was eager to speak, but delay and hesitate, rather holds me back and simply commands me to keep silent. For I intend to say something about a man, who appears and seems to be a man, but the greater part of whose state, for those able to perceive, has already been stripped bare with a greater preparation for the migration to the divine. I do not come to praise his lineage nor the upbringing of his body, and then delay and put it off out of excessive caution, nor indeed his strength or beauty; these are indeed the encomia of youths, of which there is less concern whether they are spoken worthily or not. For to make some speech solemnly and worthily with delays about things not lasting nor stable, but perishing variously and quickly, lest it be both cold and boastful, it would not be for me if it were my purpose to say anything of these things, being useless and vain and such as I would never willingly set forth to speak of; but still if it were my purpose, the speech would have no caution or concern, lest in saying something I might appear less than its worth. But now, calling to mind what is most godlike of him, and that which in him happens to be akin to God, though imprisoned in this visible and mortal frame, yet striving most laboriously to be made like to God, and being about to touch somehow upon greater matters, and of a certain thanksgiving through this to the divine, because it has been granted to me to meet with such a man, contrary to all human expectation, both of others and of my own self, having neither ever purposed it nor even hoped for it; being about to touch upon such things, being small and utterly foolish, do I not reasonably shrink back and hesitate and willingly keep silent? And indeed to keep silent seems safe for me, lest somehow under the pretext of thanksgiving, but perhaps out of rashness, in relating things concerning what is solemn and holy I should relate things unseemly and cheap and trite, and not only might I not attain the truth, but I might even take something away, at least as far as in me lies, among those who believe things to be so, as my speech, being weak, will give a faint sketch, rather insulting than being made like to the deeds in power. And yet your qualities are indestructible and cannot be insulted, O dear friend, and much more so are divine things, remaining in themselves as they are, unshaken, in no way harmed by our small and unworthy words; but as for us, I do not know how we shall escape the reputation for audacity and rashness, having leapt upon, out of folly, with little mind and preparation, great matters perhaps even beyond us. And if somewhere else and concerning others we had been eager to make such a youthful display, even so we would have been audacious and somewhat daring, but still, shamelessness would be the cause of our rashness, in not being rash concerning you in these matters; but now we shall fill up the whole measure of our folly, or rather have already filled it up, having dared to tread with unwashed feet (this is indeed the saying) upon ears, to which the divine Word itself sojourns, treading not with feet covered in any way, as is the case for most men, as if by some thick skins of enigmatic and unclear words, but with bare feet, as one might say, clear and manifest. But we, bringing our human words like some filth or mud, have dared to pour them upon ears accustomed to hearing divine and pure voices. Is it then enough to have erred thus far, and is it necessary to begin to be prudent at least now, by no longer proceeding further with the speech, but stopping it here? I would have wished it indeed; but yet let it be permitted to me, being bold for once, to first state the reason by which I was incited and came to this contest, if somehow there might also be forgiveness for me for this rashness.

3 Ingratitude appears terrible to me, terrible and altogether terrible. For to have received some good and not even try to repay it, if not possible in other ways, at least with thanksgivings through words, is the mark of one either utterly foolish and insensible of benefits, or forgetful. But for one to whom both perception and knowledge of the good things he has received first came, if the memory is not also preserved for the time to come, if he does not also offer some thanks to the

ἐπέχει μᾶλλον καὶ ἡσυχίαν ἄγειν ἀτεχνῶ<ς> προστάττει, ἡ ὑπόθεσις αὕτη, ἧσπερ ἕνεκα λέγειν προεθυμήθην μέν, μέλλω <δὲ> καὶ ὀκνῶ. Περὶ γὰρ ἀνδρὸς διανοοῦμαί τι λέγειν, φαινομένου μὲν καὶ δοκοῦντος ἀνθρώπου, τὸ δὲ πολὺ τῆς ἕξεως τοῖς καθορᾶν δυναμένοις ἀπεσκευασμένου ἤδη μείζονι παρασ κευῇ μεταναστάσεως τῆς πρὸς τὸ θεῖον. Οὐχὶ δὲ γένος οὐδὲ ἀνατροφὰς σώματος ἐπαινέσων ἔρχομαι, εἶτα μέλλω καὶ ἀναβάλλομαι ὑπ' εὐλαβείας περιττῆς, οὐδέ γε ἰσχὺν ἢ κάλλος· ταῦτα δὴ τὰ τῶν μειρακίων ἐγκώμια, ὧν ἥττων φροντὶς κατ' ἀξίαν τε καὶ μὴ λεγομένων. Πραγμάτων γὰρ οὐ μονίμων οὐδὲ ἑστώτων, φθειρομένων δὲ ποικίλως καὶ ταχέως, λόγον ποιεῖσθαί τινα σεμνοειδῶς καὶ ἀξιοπρεπῶς δὴ ταῖς ἀναβολαῖς, μὴ καὶ ψυχρὸν ἢ πέρπερον ᾖ, οὐκ ἄν μοι τούτων εἴπερ τι λέγειν προὔκειτο, ἀχρήστων μὲν ὄντων καὶ ματαίων καὶ οἵων οὐκ ἄν ποτε ἑκὼν προὐθέμην λέγειν· οὐ μὴν ἀλλ' εἴπερ προὔκειτο, οὔθ' ἡντινοῦν εἶχεν ἂν εὐλάβειαν ὁ λόγος οὐδὲ φροντίδα, μὴ πή τι λέγων ἥττω<ν> τῆς ἀξίας φαινοίμην. Νυνὶ δὲ ὅ τι θεοειδέστατον αὐτοῦ, καὶ ὅπερ ἐν αὐτῷ σ<υγ>γενὲς ὂν τυγχάνει θεῷ, ἐγκαθειργ μένον μὲν τῷ φαινομένῳ καὶ θνητῷ τῷδε, ὅτι δὲ φι<λο> πονώτατα ἐξομοιοῦσθαι βιαζόμενον τῷ θεῷ, τούτου μνημονεύων καὶ ἐφάπτεσθαί πως μέλλων πραγμάτων μειζόνων, καί τινος διὰ τούτου καὶ τῆς εἰς τὸ θεῖον εὐχα ριστίας, ὅτι μοι συγκυρῆσαι τοιούτῳ δεδώρηται ἀνδρί, παρὰ πᾶσάν γε τὴν ἀνθρώπων προσδο<κίαν> τῶν τε ἄλλων καὶ τὴν ἐμοῦ αὐτοῦ, οὔτε προθεμένου ποτὲ οὔτε καὶ ἐλπίσ<αν>τος· τοιούτων ἐφάπτεσθαι μέλλων, μικρὸς ὢν καὶ ἄνους παντελῶς, οὐκ εὐλόγως ἀναδύομαί τε καὶ ὀκνῶ καὶ ἑκὼν σιωπῶ; Καὶ δῆτα τὴν ἡσυχίαν ἄγειν ἀσφαλές <μοι> κατα φαίνεται, μή πη προφάσει μὲν εὐχαριστίας, ὑπὸ δὲ προπε τείας ἴσως περὶ σεμνῶν καὶ ἱερῶν ἄσεμνά τε καὶ εὐτελῆ καὶ καταπεπατημένα διεξιών, οὐ μόνον οὐκ ἐφικνῶμαι τῆς ἀληθείας, ἀλλὰ καὶ καθαιρῶ τι, τό γε ἐπ' ἐμοί, παρὰ τοῖς οὕτως ἔχειν πιστεύουσιν, ὡς ἀσθενὴς ὢν ὁ λόγος, περιϋβρίζων μᾶλλον ἤπερ ἐξομοιούμενος τοῖς ἔργοις τῇ δυνάμει, ὑποτυπώσεται. Καίτοι τὰ μὲν σὰ ἀκαθαίρετα καὶ ἀνύβριστα, ὦ φίλη κεφαλή, καὶ πολὺ μᾶλλον τὰ θεῖα, μένοντα ἐφ' ἑαυτῶν ὡς ἔχει ἀσάλευτα, οὐδὲν βλαπ τόμενα ὑπὸ τῶν μικρῶν καὶ ἀναξίων ἡμετέρων λόγων· ἡμεῖς δὲ οὐκ οἶδ' ὅπως τὴν τῆς θρασύτητος καὶ προπε τείας δόξαν διαφευξόμεθα, ἐπιπηδήσαντες ὑπ' ἀνοίας, μικρῷ καὶ νῷ καὶ παρασκευῇ, μεγάλοις καὶ ὑπὲρ ἡμᾶς ἴσως πράγμασι. Καὶ εἰ μὲν ἀλλαχόθι που καὶ <ἐπ'> ἄλλων τοιαῦτα προεθυμήθημεν νεανιεύσασθαι, θρασεῖς μὲν καὶ οὕτως ἦμεν καὶ τολμηροί τινες, οὐ μὴν ἀλλ' ἀναίδεια τῆς προπετείας αἰτία, τῷ μὴ ἐπὶ σοὶ ταῦτα θρασύνεσθαι· νυνὶ δὲ πᾶν τὸ μέτρον τῆς ἀνοίας ἀποπλήσομεν, ἢ καὶ ἀπεπλήσαμεν ἤδη, ἐπεμβαίνειν τολμήσαντες ἀνίπτοις τοῖς ποσί (τοῦτο δὴ τὸ τοῦ λόγου) ἀκοαῖς, αἷς αὐτὸς ὁ θεῖος λόγος οὐδὲν ἐσκεπασμένοις, ὡς ταῖς τῶν πολλῶν ἀνθρώπων, τοῖς ποσίν, ὥσπερ ὑπὸ παχέων τινῶν δερμάτων, τῶν αἰνιγματωδῶν καὶ ἀσαφῶν λέξεων, ἀλλὰ γυμνοῖς, ὡς ἂν εἴποι τις, σαφὴς καὶ πρόδηλος ἐμβατεύων ἐνεπιδημεῖ. Ἡμεῖς δὲ ὥσπερ ῥύπον ἢ πηλόν τινα τοὺς ἀνθρωπίνους ἡμῶν λόγους φέροντες ἐπαντλεῖν ἐτολμήσαμεν ἀκοαῖς, θείων καὶ καθαρῶν ἀκούειν μεμελετηκυίαις φωνῶν. Ἀρ' οὖν ἀπόχρη μέχρι τούτου ἁμαρτεῖν, καὶ νῦν γοῦν σωφρονεῖν ἄρξασθαι χρή, μηκέτι μὲν περαιτέρω προβαίνοντας τῷ λόγῳ, αὐτοῦ δὲ καταπαύσαντας; ἐβουλόμην μέν· οὐ μὴν ἀλλ' ἅπαξ μοι θρασυνομένῳ ἐξέστω τὴν αἰτίαν πρῶτον εἰπεῖν, ὑφ' ἧς ἐπαρθεὶς ἐπὶ τοῦτον ἧκα τὸν ἀγῶνα, εἴ πη καὶ συγγνώμη γένοιτό μοι τῆς προπετείας ταύτης.

3 ∆εινόν μοι ἡ ἀ<χ>αριστία καταφαίνεται, δεινὸν καὶ πάνδεινον. Παθόντα γάρ τι καλῶς μὴ καὶ ἀμείβεσθαι πειρᾶσθαι, εἰ καὶ μὴ ἄλλως δυνατόν, εὐχα ριστίαις γοῦν ταῖς διὰ λόγων, ἢ ἀνοήτου πάντη καὶ ἀναισθήτου τῶν εὐεργεσιῶν, ἢ ἀμνήμονος. Ὅτῳ δὲ καὶ αἴσθησις καὶ γνῶσις ὧν ἔπαθε καλῶν προσεγένετο πρῶτον, εἰ μὴ καὶ μνήμη διασώζεται εἰς τὸν ἔπειτα χρόνον, εἰ μὴ καὶ ἀναφέροι τινὰ χάριν τῷ