2

For it is not right to be ungrateful. But when I came, I at once became a stranger, a noble estrangement. For I stand beside God as some lamb or dear calf, a noble victim and one honored by reason— for I hesitate to say, like some new Samuel, unless I look to the desire of those who gave me. But having been raised in all good things from my swaddling-clothes (for I had the best examples at home) I was already acquiring a certain reverence for the prize, and little by little, like a cloud out of darkness, the desire for the better was gathering in me. And I was advancing with reason running alongside, and I rejoiced in the books that plead for God, and I conversed with men most excellent in their character. Such then were these things; but for the rest I do not know what path of discourse to cut. Shall I hide the wonders by which God urged me on, taking my zeal as the best beginning (for thus He knows how to draw one to salvation), or shall I eagerly speak them out in public? For the one is ungrateful, the other not free from pride. It is better to be silent—it will be enough for me to know—, lest my words now seem to be at war, greatly lacking that former zeal. But what I must, I will make known to the many. Down was on my cheek, and a fervent love of letters held me. For I was seeking to give the profane letters as helpers to the sacred ones, so that those who have learned nothing except vain and empty eloquence, which lies in sounds and throats, might not be puffed up, nor I be wanting in the webs of sophistry. But this never entered my mind, to make any further use of my studies. But what the heat of youth always suffers, easily fanned by unruly impulses, like a colt full of spirit darting into the race, this I suffered. For completely out of season, when the sea was no longer calm— the tail of Taurus, they say, which experts call not without danger, a voyage of rashness, not of reason— then, therefore, leaving Alexandria (for from there too I plucked some fruit of letters) I set sail and cut the sea straight for Greece. The coasts of Cyprus; and a conflict of winds made the ship boil and everything was one night; earth, sea, ether, a darkened sky; thunders resounded with flashes of lightning, and ropes roared as the sails filled. The mast leaned, and the rudders had no strength; for their necks were torn by force from the hand. The hull was full of water washing over the sides. A mingled cry, full of laments, from sailors, boatswains, masters, †passengers† calling on Christ in one accord, and of those who before did not know God; for fear is a more timely teacher. But what was the most wretched evil of all, the ship was without water; for as the ship was being spun around, the casks broke and were scattered in the deep, which held the sweet treasure of water. There was a struggle with hunger and squall and winds to become corpses. For this, God saw a swift release. For Phoenician merchants, suddenly appearing, although they were in fear, learning from our entreaties the straits of our danger, having escaped the collisions of the ships by thrusts of poles and hands (for they were strong), they save us, who were already corpses of the sea, like fish cast out from the sea or a dying lamp when there is no fuel. But the sea grew wild and roared more against us for more days, while we neither knew where we were sailing with many turns, nor saw any salvation from God. And while all feared the common death, the hidden death was more dreadful to me. For I was being estranged from the cleansing waters, by which we are deified, by the stranger-slaying waters. This was my lament, this my disaster; for this I sent up cries, stretching out my hands, overpowering the great roar of the waves, having torn my tunic, lying prostrate, wretched man. And what is not credible, but exceedingly true, all, putting aside their own misfortune, joined with me in prayerful shouts, sailors being pious in common evils; so they sympathized with my sufferings. You were then also, my Christ, a great savior, and now You free me from the waves of life. For since there was no good hope, no island, no mainland, no mountain peaks, no beacon, no stars as guides for sailors, nothing small, nothing greater of the things that are seen, what can I devise? What way out of the difficulties? despairing of all things below

2

οὐ γὰρ ἀχαριστεῖν θέμις. ὡς δ' ἧκον, εὐθὺς γίνομαι ἀλλότριος ἀλλοτρίωσιν τὴν καλήν. τῷ γὰρ θεῷ παρίσταμ' ὡς ἀμνός τις ἢ μόσχος φίλος, θῦμ' εὐγενές τε καὶ λόγῳ τιμώμενον- ὀκνῶ γὰρ εἰπεῖν, ὡς Σαμουήλ τις νέος, πλὴν εἰ βλέποιμι πρὸς πόθον δεδωκότων. Τραφεὶς δ' ἐν ἅπασι τοῖς καλοῖς ἐκ σπαργάνων (τύπους γὰρ εἶχον τοὺς ἀρίστους οἴκοθεν) ἤδη τιν' αἰδῶ τοῦ γέρως ἐλάμβανον, καί μοι κατὰ μικρόν, ὥσπερ ἐκ γνόφου νέφος, συνήγεθ' ἡ τοῦ κρείσσονος προθυμία. πρόσω δ' ἔβαινον συντρέχοντος καὶ λόγου, βίβλων τ' ἔχαιρον ταῖς θεοῦ συνηγόροις, ἀνδρῶν θ' ὡμίλουν τοῖς ἀρίστοις τὸν τρόπον. Τοιαῦτα μὲν δὴ ταῦτα· τἀπίλοιπα δέ οὐκ οἶδ', ὁποίαν τοῦ λόγου τέμω τρίβον. κρύψω τὰ θαύμαθ', οἷς με προύτρεψεν θεός, ἀρχὴν ἀρίστην τὴν προθυμίαν λαβών (οὕτω γὰρ ἕλκειν οἶδεν εἰς σωτηρίαν), ἢ θῶ προθύμως ἐκλαλήσας εἰς μέσον; τὸ μὲν γὰρ ἀχάριστον, τὸ δ' οὐκ ἔξω τύφου. σιγᾶν ἄμεινον-ἀρκέσει τό μ' εἰδέναι-, μὴ καὶ μάχεσθαι τῷ λόγῳ τὰ νῦν δοκῇ πλεῖστον δέοντα τῆς τότε προθυμίας. Ὃ δ' οὖν ἀνάγκη, γνωρίσω τοῖς πλείοσιν. ἄχνους παρειά, τῶν λόγων δ' ἔρως ἐμέ θερμός τις εἶχε. καὶ γὰρ ἐζήτουν λόγους δοῦναι βοηθοὺς τοὺς νόθους τοῖς γνησίοις, ὡς μήτ' ἐπαίροινθ' οἱ μαθόντες οὐδὲ ἕν πλὴν τῆς ματαίας καὶ κενῆς εὐγλωττίας, τῆς ἐν ψόφοις τε καὶ λάρυγξι κειμένης, μήτ' ἐνδεοίμην πλεκτάναις σοφισμάτων. ἐκεῖνο δ' οὔποτ' εἰς ἐμὴν ἦλθε φρένα, πρόσω τι θεῖναι τῶν ἐμῶν παιδευμάτων. ὅπερ δὲ πάσχει θερμότης ἀεὶ νέων, ὁρμαῖς ἀτάκτοις εὐκόλως ῥιπίζεται, ὡς πῶλος ᾄττων εἰς δρόμους θυμοῦ πλέως, πέπονθα τοῦτο. τῆς γὰρ ὥρας παντελῶς ἔξω, θαλάσσης οὐκέθ' ἡμερουμένης- Ταύρου τιν' οὐρὰν οὐκ ἀκίνδυνόν φασιν οἱ ταῦτα δεινοί, πλοῦν θράσους, ἀλλ' οὐ φρενός- τότ' οὖν Ἀλεξάνδρειαν ἐκλιπὼν ἐγώ (κἀνθένδε γάρ τι τῶν λόγων ἐδρεψάμην) ἄρας ἔτεμνον πόντον εὐθὺς Ἑλλάδος. Κύπρου τὰ πλευρά· καὶ στάσις τῶν πνευμάτων ἔβραζε τὴν ναῦν καὶ τὰ πάντ' ἦν νὺξ μία· γῆ, πόντος, αἰθήρ, οὐρανὸς ζοφούμενος· βρονταὶ δ' ἐπήχουν ἀστραπῶν τινάγμασιν, κάλοι δ' ἐρόχθουν ἱστίων πληρουμένων. ἔκλινεν ἱστός, οἰάκων δ' οὐδὲν σθένος· βίᾳ γὰρ ἡρπάζοντο χειρὸς αὐχένες. πλῆρες δ' ὑπερτοιχοῦντος ὕδατος σκάφος. βοὴ δὲ συμμιγής τε καὶ θρήνων πλέως ναυτῶν, κελευστῶν, δεσποτῶν, †ἐπηβόλων† Χριστὸν καλούντων ἐκ μιᾶς συμφωνίας, καὶ τῶν, ὅσοι τὸ πρόσθεν ἠγνόουν θεόν· ὁ γὰρ φόβος δίδαγμα καιριώτερον. ὃ δ' ἦν ἁπάντων σχετλιώτατον κακῶν, ἄνυδρος ἡ ναῦς· εὐθὺ γὰρ στροβουμένης νεὼς ῥαγεῖσα σπείρετ' ἐν βυθῷ σκάφη, ἣ τὸν γλυκὺν θησαυρὸν εἶχεν ὕδατος. λιμοῦ δ' ἀγὼν ἦν καὶ ζάλης καὶ πνευμάτων νεκροὺς γενέσθαι. τοῦδε μὲν λύσιν θεός εἶδεν ταχεῖαν. ἔμποροι γὰρ Φοινίκης ἄφνω φανέντες, καίπερ ὄντες ἐν φόβῳ, λιταῖς μαθόντες τὸ στενὸν τοῦ κινδύνου, κοντῶν ἐρεισμοῖς καὶ χερῶν ἀράγματα νεῶν φυγόντες (καὶ γὰρ ἦσαν εὐσθενεῖς) σῴζουσιν ἡμᾶς ποντίους ἤδη νεκρούς, ὡς ἐκ θαλάσσης ἐκλιπόντας ἰχθύας ἢ λαμπάδα θνῄσκουσαν οὐκ οὔσης τροφῆς. Ὁ δ' ἠγριοῦτο καὶ πλέον βρυχώμενος πόντος καθ' ἡμῶν ἡμέραις ἐν πλείοσιν οὔθ' οἷ πλέοιμεν εἰδότων πολλαῖς στροφαῖς οὔτε τιν' ὁρώντων ἐκ θεοῦ σωτηρίαν. πάντων δὲ τὸν κοινὸν θάνατον δεδοικότων ὁ κρυπτὸς ἦν ἔμοιγε φρικωδέστερος. καθαρσίων γάρ, οἷς θεούμεθ', ὑδάτων ἠλλοτριούμην ὕδασι ξενοκτόνοις. τοῦτ' ἦν ὀδυρμός, τοῦτ' ἔμοιγε συμφορά, τούτῳ βοὰς ἔπεμπον, ἐκτείνων χέρας, ὑπερκτυπούσας κυμάτων πολὺν ῥόθον, ῥήξας χιτῶνα, κείμενος πρηνὴς τάλας. ὃ δ' ἐστὶν οὐ πιστὸν μέν, ἀψευδὲς δ' ἄγαν, πάντες παρέντες τὴν ἑαυτῶν συμφοράν ἐμοὶ συνῆγον ἐκβοὰς εὐκτηρίους, πλωτῆρες εὐσεβοῦντες ἐν κοινοῖς κακοῖς· οὕτω συνήλγουν τοῖς ἐμοῖς παθήμασιν. Σὺ καὶ τότ' ἦσθα, Χριστέ μου, σωτὴρ μέγας, καὶ νῦν ἐλευθερῶν με κυμάτων βίου. ἐπεὶ γὰρ οὐδὲν ἐλπίδος χρηστῆς ὑπῆν, οὐ νῆσος, οὐκ ἤπειρος, οὐκ ὀρῶν ἄκρα, οὐ πυρσός, οὐ πλωτῆρσιν ἀστέρες σκοποί, οὐ μικρόν, οὐ μεῖζόν τι τῶν ὁρωμένων, τί μηχανῶμαι; τίς πόρος τῶν δυσχερῶν; πάντων ἀπογνοὺς τῶν κάτω