with pride when he found he could transform everything he touched to gold: but when he beheld his food grow rigid and his drink harden into golden ice then he understood that this gift was a bane and in his loathing for the gold cursed his prayer. Thus Rufinus, overcome, cried out: “Whithersoever thou summonest me I follow, be thou man or god.” Then at the Fury’s bidding he left his fatherland and approached the cities of the East, threading the once floating Symplegades and the seas renowned for the voyage of the Argo, ship of Thessaly, till he came to where, beneath its high-walled town, the gleaming Bosporus separates Asia from the Thracian coast.
When he had completed this long journey and, led by the evil thread of the fates, had won his way into the far-famed palace, then did ambition straightway come to birth and right was no more. Everything had its price. He betrayed secrets, deceived dependents, and sold honours that had been wheedled from the emperor. He followed up one crime with another, heaping fuel on the inflamed mind and probing and embittering the erstwhile trivial wound. And yet, as Nereus knows no addition from the infinitude of rivers that flow into him and though here he drains Danube’s wave and there Nile’s summer flood with its sevenfold mouth, yet ever remains his same and constant self, so Rufinus’ thirst knew no abatement for all the streams of gold that flowed in upon him. Had any a necklace studded with jewels or a fertile demesne he was sure prey for Rufinus: a rich property assured the ruin of its own possessor: fertility was the husbandman’s bane. He drives them from their homes, expels them from the lands their sires had
finibus; aut aufert vivis aut occupat heres
congestae cumulantur opes orbisque ruinas
accipit una domus: populi servire coacti
plenaque privato succumbunt oppida regno. 195
Quo, vesane, ruis? teneas utrumque licebit
Oceanum, laxet rutilos tibi Lydia fontes,