Letter CCCLV.

Libanius to Basil.

Are you living at Athens, Basil?  Have you forgotten yourself?  The sons of the Cæsareans could not endure to hear these things.  My tongue was not accustomed to them.  Just as though I were treading some dangerous ground, and were struck at the novelty of the sounds, it said to me its father, “My father, you never taught this!  This man is Homer, or Plato, or Aristotle, or Susarion.  He knows everything.”  So far my tongue.  I only wish, Basil, that you could praise me in the same manner!

ΛΙΒΑΝΙΟΣ ΒΑΣΙΛΕΙῼ

[1] Ἆρα, Βασίλειε, μὴ τὰς Ἀθήνας οἰκεῖς καὶ λέληθας σεαυτόν; Οὐ γὰρ τῶν Καισαρέων οἱ παῖδες ταῦτα ἀκούειν ἠδύναντο. Ἡ γλῶττα γάρ μοι τούτων ἐθὰς οὐκ ἦν, ἀλλ' ὡσπερεί τινα κρημνὸν διοδεύοντος πληγεῖσα τῇ τῶν ὀνομάτων καινοτομίᾳ ἐμοί τε τῷ πατρὶ ἔλεγε: »Πάτερ, οὐκ ἐδίδαξας. Ὅμηρος οὗτος ἀνήρ, ἀλλὰ Πλάτων, ἀλλ' Ἀριστοτέλης, ἀλλὰ Σουσαρίων ὁ τὰ πάντα ἐπιστάμενος.« Καὶ ταῦτα μὲν ἡ γλῶττα, σὲ δὲ εἴη, Βασίλειε, τοιαῦτα ἡμᾶς ἐπαινεῖν.