seeing you, unwillingly he smiled, as if filled with some grace; and moving his hand, but at the same time his head too "blameless," he said, "is he who desires the sight of you."

The lord rejoiced seeing her on earth and alone reaping the meadow of life he had unceasing joy in his heart. And if the light of the sun were hidden by a cloud, he saw your radiance instead of the morning star; and if the darkness did not show the moon, he had you as the moon, a dissolver of gloom; a mist from despondency held him, and seeing your starry sight, he rejoiced. For you were truly an Orpheus, but even more a Siren sending forth an all-beautiful song; and from all sides charming and enchanting, and sending forth to joy and delight and dissolving the circumstances of afflictions, thus you conquered again the lord with splendid requitals of spiritual gifts, and you held sway over every heart even more. And all people to you rather than to Orpheus were drawn, running together with insatiable desire, and everyone who saw stood astounded, looking; and if some shame did not hide your appearance, a new and different tale was made up, that the venerable one, by the strangeness of her form, freezes the one who looks and makes him stone. But Charon was uncharmed by your song, but death alone was unyielding. Alas, alas, what sort of speech do I now introduce? How can I move and speak and write? Rocks, be shattered with a mournful crash; mountains, be broken with a lamenting song; groan, O earth, and cry out from the depths; and if you cannot groan by natural reason, send forth some echo from your foundations; cut the trees like shining locks of hair, shear every flower as braids. For the venerable one, by birth even before fortune faintly, dimly, breathes her last; and the musical and God-inspired mouth a silence of final speechlessness has taken; all the beauty, the honey-sweet delightfulness, the living grace of roses in her cheeks is now pallor, now remains without crimson. That mind was destroyed before the end, and the store of wits has flowed away, and the eyelids of the shining eyes before death have wasted away, weakened.

And around were laments and groans and wailings, bruising of cheeks and tearing of hair of her mother, of her longed-for sibling, of acquaintances, companions, relatives, and friends; and all these things were deaf to her lying there. And the mother, even before overcome by grief and dying in all things with her daughter, when she saw the beautiful nightingale the musical one, speechless with a lifeless song, gasping for breath and breathing her last, just like a bird whose young have been sacrificed, twittering and wailing and moaning and sprinkling her hair on all sides with dust she sent forth such cries with groans: "O sweet child, child full of sweetness, offspring of my most unfortunate womb, who has snatched you now from my embrace? Who has cut you down like an untimely ear of corn, who has harvested you like an unripe cluster of grapes? Who has extinguished my spiritual lamp, and has dimmed the light, alas, of my eyes? The only support of my aged flesh, hand, eye and foot and beautiful staff, soul, breath and life, mind and heart, where are you now going, leaving your mother? O double wave of helpless misfortunes, I bore before the loss of a dearest husband, a cutting of a limb, alas, and I was half-dead in life; but in you I lived on, but now, O the suffering, I am deprived of you also, of my breath and heart. And now I am breathless, lifeless in life. I, O daughter, had hopes to be cared for in my old age by you, dearest, and in your bosom and longed-for arms to release the last breath of my life. But you, who were worthy to live, have died for me, for me who was long expected to die. For why have I not died before you, child, aged, all-wretched, full of wrinkles? O unhappy and unfortunate mother, O wretched womb, even if you immediately seemed most fortunate for having borne a gilded dove. Alas for the birth-pangs, alas for the all-wretched birth. Which of your graces shall I first weep and cry for, daughter, and which shall I leave unwept, unlamented, without tears? Your inborn beauty of heart? The outward grace? Your very mind? Your sympathy, your compassionate way? Your most exact providence for me? You have sinned a strange sin, O Charon, sending my dearest one before me to Hades; for if reaping the

βλέπων σε μὴ θέλων ἐμειδία, ὥσπερ τινὸς χάριτος ἐμπεπλησμένος· καὶ χεῖρα κινῶν, ἀλλ' ὁμοῦ καὶ τὴν κάραν «ἄμεμπτος» εἶπεν «ὃς ποθεῖ τὴν σὴν θέαν».

Tαύτην ἔχαιρε γῆς ὁρῶν ὁ δεσπότης μόνος τε τὸν λειμῶνα τρυγῶν τοῦ βίου ἄπαυστον εἶχε χαρμονὴν τῇ καρδίᾳ. κἂν ἡλίου φῶς ἦν κεκρυμμένον νέφει, τὴν σὴν ἑώρα λάμψιν ἀντὶ φωσφόρου· κἂν τὴν σελήνην οὐκ ἐδείκνυ τὸ σκότος, σὲ τὴν σελήνην εἶχε λύτειραν ζόφου· ἀχλὺς κατεῖχε τοῦτον ἐξ ἀθυμίας, καὶ σὴν βλέπων ἔναστρον ἤγαλλεν θέαν. Ὀρφεὺς γὰρ ὄντως, ἀλλὰ Σειρὴν τὸ πλέον ὑπῆρχες ἐκπέμπουσα πάγκαλον μέλος· καὶ πάντοθεν θέλγουσα καὶ κηλοῦσά τε καὶ πρὸς χαρὰν πέμπουσα καὶ θυμηδίαν καὶ θλίψεων λύουσα τὰς περιστάσεις, οὕτως ἐνίκας καὶ πάλιν τὸν δεσπότην λαμπραῖς ἀμοιβαῖς ψυχικῶν χαρισμάτων, πάσης δὲ μᾶλλον ἐκράτησας καρδίας. καὶ πάντες εἰς σὲ μᾶλλον ἢ πρὸς Ὀρφέα ἤγοντο συντρέχοντες ἀπλήστῳ πόθῳ, καὶ πᾶς ἰδὼν ἔκπληκτος ἵστατο βλέπων· κἂν μή τις αἰδὼς ἀντέκρυπτε σὴν θέαν, καινός τις ἄλλος ἀντεποιήθη λόγος, ὡς ἡ σεβαστὴ τῷ ξένῳ τῆς ἰδέας πήγνυσι τὸν βλέποντα καὶ ποιεῖ λίθον. ἀλλ' ἦν ἄθελκτος πρὸς τὸ σὸν μέλος Χάρων, ἀλλ' ἦν ἄτεγκτος ἡ τελευτὴ καὶ μόνη. Φεῦ φεῦ, ὁποῖον νῦν παρεισάγω λόγον; πῶς καὶ κινοῦμαι καὶ λαλῶ καὶ συγγράφω; πέτραι, διαρράγητε πενθικῷ κρότῳ· ὄρη, διαθρύβητε θρηνῴδει μέλει· στέναξον, ἡ γῆ, καὶ βόησον ἐκ βάθους· κἂν μὴ στενάζειν φυσικῷ λόγῳ δύνῃ, ἦχόν τινα πρόπεμψον ἐκ τῶν πυθμένων· τὰ δένδρα κόψον οἷα λαμπροὺς βοστρύχους, ἄνθην ἅπασαν κεῖρον ὡς πλοκαμίδας. ἡ γὰρ σεβαστὴ καὶ πρὸ τῆς τύχης γένει λεπτῶς, ἀμυδρῶς, ἐσχάτως ἀναπνέει· τὸ μουσικὸν δὲ καὶ θεηγόρον στόμα σιγὴ κατέσχεν ὑστάτης ἀφωνίας· ἅπαν τὸ κάλλος, ἡ μελιχρὰ τερπνότης, ἡ τῶν ῥόδων ἔμψυχος ἐν γνάθοις χάρις νῦν ὠχρίασις, νῦν ἀφοίνικτος μένει. ὁ νοῦς ἐκεῖνος ἐφθάρη πρὸ τοῦ τέλους, ἡ συστροφὴ δὲ τῶν φρενῶν ἀπερρύη, τὰ δὲ βλέφαρα τῶν φαεινῶν ὀμμάτων πρὸ τῆς θανῆς τέτηκεν ἠτονημένα.

Θρῆνοι δὲ κύκλῳ καὶ στεναγμοὶ καὶ γόοι, θρύψεις παρειῶν καὶ σπαραγμοὶ τῆς κόμης τῆς μητρὸς αὐτῆς, τοῦ ποθητοῦ συγγόνου, γνωστῶν, συνήθων, συγγενῶν καὶ γνωρίμων· καὶ πάντα κωφὰ ταῦτα τῇ προκειμένῃ. μήτηρ δὲ καὶ πρὶν τῷ πάθει κρατουμένη καὶ τῇ θυγατρὶ πάντα συννεκρουμένη, ἐπείπερ εἶδε τὴν καλὴν ἀηδόνα τὴν μουσικὴν ἄφωνον ἀψύχῳ μέλει, ψυχορραγοῦσαν καὶ πνέουσαν ἐσχάτως, ὄρνις καθώσπερ τῶν τέκνων τεθυμένων, τρύζουσα καὶ γοῶσα καὶ μυκωμένη καὶ τὴν κόμην πάττουσα πάντοθεν κόνει τοιάσδε φωνὰς σὺν στεναγμοῖς ἠφίει· «ὦ τέκνον ἡδύ, τέκνον ἡδονῆς γέμον, σπλάγχνων ἐμῶν γέννημα δυστυχεστάτων, τίς ἥρπασέν σε τῆς ἐμῆς νῦν ἀγκάλης; τίς ὡς στάχυν πρόωρον ἐξέκοψέ σε, τίς ὡς βότρυν ἄωρον ἐτρύγησέ σε; τίς ἔσβεσέν μου τὴν νοητὴν λαμπάδα, ἐμῶν δ' ἀπημαύρωσε φῶς, φεῦ, ὀμμάτων; σαρκῶν ἐμῶν στήριγμα γηραιῶν μόνη, χείρ, ὄμμα καὶ ποὺς καὶ καλὴ βακτηρία, ψυχή, πνοὴ ζωή τε, νοῦς καὶ καρδία, ποῦ νῦν ἀπέρχῃ σὴν ἐῶσα μητέρα; ὢ κῦμα διπλοῦν συμφορῶν ἀμηχάνων, ἤνεγκα πρὶν στέρησιν ἀνδρὸς φιλτάτου, τομὴν μέλους, φεῦ, ἡμιθανὴς δ' ἦν βίῳ· ἐν σοὶ δ' ἐπέζων, ἀλλὰ νῦν, ὢ τοῦ πάθους, καὶ σοῦ στεροῦμαι, τῆς πνοῆς καὶ καρδίας. καὶ νῦν ἄπνους, ἄψυχος εἰμὶ τῷ βίῳ. ἐγὼ μέν, ὦ θύγατερ, εἶχον ἐλπίδας γηρωκομηθῆναί με πρὸς σοῦ, φιλτάτη, κόλπῳ τε τῷ σῷ καὶ ποθηταῖς ἀγκάλαις πνοὴν ἀφεῖναι τοῦ βίου τὴν ἐσχάτην. σὺ δ' ἀλλ' ἐμοὶ τέθνηκας ἡ ζῆν ἀξία τῇ καὶ τεθνάναι προσδοκωμένῃ πάλαι. τί καὶ γὰρ οὐ τέθνηκα σοῦ πρώτη, τέκνον, γηραιά, παντάλαινα, ῥυτίδων ὅλη; ὦ δυστυχὴς δύσμητερ, οἰκτρὰ κοιλία, κἂν εὐθέως ἔδοξας εὐτυχεστάτη περιστερὰν τέξασα κεχρυσωμένην. φεῦ ὠδίνων, φεῦ τοῦ παναθλίου τόκου. ποῖόν τι πρῶτον κλαύσομαι καὶ δακρύσω, ποῖον δ' ἀφήσω, θύγατερ, σῶν χαρίτων ἄκλαυστον, ἀθρήνητον, ἔξω δακρύων; τὴν ἔμφυτόν σου καλλονὴν τῆς καρδίας; τὴν ἐκτὸς εὐπρέπειαν; αὐτὰς τὰς φρένας; τὸ συμπαθές σου, τὸν φιλεύσπλαγχνον τρόπον; τὴν εἰς ἐμὲ πρόνοιαν ἀκριβεστάτην; ἁμαρτίαν ἥμαρτες, ὦ Χάρων, ξένην ἐμοῦ προπέμψας εἰς ᾅδην τὴν φιλτάτην· εἰ γὰρ θερίζειν τοὺς