Duravit hic illi usque ad extremum nec aut
spatio valetudinis aut metu mortis infractus est, quo plures
gravioresque nobis causas relinqueret et desiderii et doloris. O triste
plane acerbumque funus! O morte ipsa mortis tempus indignius! Iam
destinata erat egregio iuveni, iam electus nuptiarum dies, iam nos
vocati. Quod gaudium quo maerore mutatum est! Nec possum exprimere
verbis quantum anima vulnus acceperim, cum audivi Fundanum ipsum,
praecipientem, quod in vestes margarita gemmas fuerat erogaturus, hoc
in tus et unguenta et odores impenderetur.
--C. Pliny. _Epist._ v, 16
Translation
I have the saddest news to tell you. Our friend Fundanus has lost his
youngest daughter. I never saw a girl more cheerful, more lovable, more
worthy of long life--nay, of immortality. She had not yet completed her
fourteenth year, and she had already the prudence of an old woman, the
gravity of a matron, and still, with all maidenly modesty, the sweetness
of a girl. How she would cling to her father's neck! how affectionately
and discreetly she would greet us, her father's friends! how she loved
her nurses, her attendants, her teachers,--everyone according to his
service. How earnestly, how intelligently, she used to read! How modest
was she and restrained in her sports! And with what self-restraint, what
patience--nay, what courage--she bore her last illness! She obeyed the
physicians, encouraged her father and sister, and, when all strength of
body had left her, kept herself alive by the vigor of her mind.
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