{"prosper-epitaphium-haereseon/1":{"o":"Nestoriana lues successit Pelagianæ, / Quæ tamen est utero prægenerata meo. / Infelix miseræ genitrix et filia natæ, / Prodivi ex ipso germine quod peperi. / Nam fundare arcem meritis prior orsa superbis, / De capite ad corpus ducere opus volui. / Sed mea dum proles in summa armatur ab imis, / Congrua bellandi tempora non habui. Et consanguineæ post tristia vulnera fraudis, / Aspera conserui prælia fine pari. / Me tamen una dedit victam sententia letho: / Illa volens iterum surgere bis cecidit. / Mecum oritur, mecum moritur, mecumque sepulcrum / Intrat, et inferni carceris ima subit. / Quo nos præcipites insana superbia mersit, / Exutas donis, et tumidas meritis? / Nam Christum pietate operum et mercede volentes / Esse Deum, in capitis fœdere non stetimus; / Sperantesque animi de libertate coronam, / Perdidimus quam dat gratia justitiam. / Quique igitur geminæ miseraris busta ruinæ, / Ne nostro exilio consociare cave. / Nam si quæ Domini data munera sero fatemur, / Hæc homini credis debita, noster eris.","t":"The Nestorian plague followed the Pelagian,\nbut it was conceived beforehand in my womb.\nUnhappy mother of a wretched daughter, and daughter of my daughter,\nI came forth from the very offspring I bore.\nFor, having first set out to found a citadel on proud merits,\nI wished to carry the work from the head to the body.\nBut while my offspring armed itself from the lowest against the highest,\nI did not have the right season for war.\nAnd after the sad wounds of our kindred fraud,\nI joined in harsh battles with a like end.\nYet one sentence gave me, conquered, to death:\nshe, wishing to rise again, has fallen twice.\nShe rises with me, dies with me, and with me enters\nthe tomb, and goes down to the depths of the prison of hell.\nWhither has mad pride plunged us headlong,\nstripped of gifts and swollen with merits?\nFor, wishing Christ to be God by the piety of his works and as a reward,\nwe did not stand in the covenant of the head;\nand, hoping for a crown from the freedom of the soul,\nwe lost the righteousness that grace gives.\nYou, then, who pity the tombs of this twin ruin,\ntake care not to share our exile.\nFor if you believe that the gifts we confess, too late, to be given by the Lord\nare owed to man, you will be ours.","f":"Prosper of Aquitaine, <i>Epit.</i> 1 (PL 51:155; trans. Sophia Scriptura, https://sophiascriptura.com/p/prosper-epitaphium-haereseon/1)."}}