_Synesius’s_ _Grief for the Death of his Children, brings upon him a Fit
of Sickness; his Letter of Complaint to _Hypatia_ in his Illness_.
Continuing therefore to grieve for the Death of his Children, he fell
into an ill State of Health, which he signifies to his Mistress (whom in
all his Letters he stiles _The Philosopher_) and to the beloved
Companions of his Studies, in these Words. “Being confined to my Bed I
have dictated this Letter, which may you receive in good Health, my
Mother, my Sister, and my Instructress! in all which Respects you have
been my Benefactress, or if there be any other, either Name or Thing,
that is more honourable. The Weakness of my Body proceeds from the
Anguish of my Soul. The Remembrance of my deceased Children consumes me
by little and little. _Synesius_ ought only to have lived so long, as
the Evils of Life were unknown to him. Afterwards it has happened to him
as to a Stream that is stopt; it rushes over its Dam on a sudden, and
forces all the Pleasure of Life before it. Let me cease to live, or to
remember the Burial of my Children. May you enjoy Health yourself, and
salute in my Name the happy Companions, beginning with Father
_Theotecnus_, and Brother _Athanasius_, and so proceeding to the rest.
Or if any other be since associated to them, who is agreeable to you
(and to whom, for this very Reason of pleasing you, I ought to stand
obliged) salute him also from me, as one of my dearest Friends. If what
relates to me be of any Concern to you, ’tis well done; though, even
then, I shall be insensible to this Favour.” What can be more
affectionate, what can be more tender, what can be more benevolent or
candid? The Soul speaks here in every Line. A while after, the
Calamities of War being added to all his other Sorrows, he writes her
this Letter, beginning with a couple of Lines out of _Homer_, changing
only a Word or two.
_Tho’ ’mong the Dead profound Oblivion reigns,
E’en there my dear_ Hypatia _I’ll remember_!
“I, who am surrounded with the Miseries of my Country, and who am
thoroughly weary of it, since I daily see hostile Arms, and Men
slaughter’d like Beasts; that I breathe Air infected with the Corruption
of dead Bodies, and that I hourly expect the like Fate myself; for who
can hope well, where the very Face of the Sky is most lamentable, being
darkened by the Shadow of carnivorous Birds? Yet, notwithstanding all
this, I retain an Affection for the Country; nay, how can I do
otherwise, being a _Lybian_ by Nation, and born in this Place, where I
behold no ignoble Sepulchres of my Ancestors. For your Sake alone I
fancy I can set light by my Country, and, as soon as Leisure offers,
will banish myself out of it.” In _Clidophorus_ I shew’d the like
Resolutions out of some of his Letters to others: but whether he ever
executed them, or how long he lived, or where or in what Manner he died,
is not recorded by any Author that I remember.