4. Ovid, Fasti, 1.105-1.110, 1.113-1.114, 1.133-1.144, 1.255-1.276, 1.317-1.318, 1.320-1.458, 3.339-3.342, 4.783-4.806, 5.721 (1st cent. BCE - 1st cent. CE)
| 1.105. The clear air, and the three other elements 1.106. Fire, water, earth, were heaped together as one. 1.107. When, through the discord of its components 1.108. The mass dissolved, and scattered to new regions 1.109. Flame found the heights: air took a lower place 1.110. While earth and sea sank to the furthest depth. 1.113. Even now, a small sign of my once confused state 1.114. My front and back appear just the same. 1.135. Every doorway has two sides, this way and that 1.136. One facing the crowds, and the other the Lares: 1.141. You see Hecate’s faces turned in three directions 1.260. He at once retold the warlike acts of Oebalian Tatius 1.261. And how the treacherous keeper, Tarpeia, bribed with bracelets 1.262. Led the silent Sabines to the heights of the citadel. 1.317. Add four successive days to the Nones and Janu 1.318. Must be propitiated on the Agonal day. 1.320. At whose blow the god’s sacrifice is felled: 1.321. Always, before he stains the naked blade with hot blood 1.322. He asks if he should (agatne), and won’t unless commanded. 1.323. Some believe that the day is called Agonal because 1.324. The sheep do not come to the altar but are driven (agantur). 1.325. Others think the ancients called this festival Agnalia 1.326. ‘of the lambs’, dropping a letter from its usual place. 1.327. Or because the victim fears the knife mirrored in the water 1.328. The day might be so called from the creature’s agony? 1.329. It may also be that the day has a Greek name 1.330. From the games (agones) that were held in former times. 1.331. And in ancient speech agonia meant a sheep 1.332. And this last reason in my judgement is the truth. 1.333. Though the meaning is uncertain, the king of the rites 1.334. Must appease the gods with the mate of a woolly ewe. 1.335. It’s called the victim because a victorious hand fells it: 1.336. And hostia, sacrifice, from hostile conquered foes. 1.337. Cornmeal, and glittering grains of pure salt 1.338. Were once the means for men to placate the gods. 1.339. No foreign ship had yet brought liquid myrrh 1.340. Extracted from tree’s bark, over the ocean waves: 1.341. Euphrates had not sent incense, nor India balm 1.342. And the threads of yellow saffron were unknown. 1.343. The altar was happy to fume with Sabine juniper 1.344. And the laurel burned with a loud crackling. 1.345. He was rich, whoever could add violet 1.346. To garlands woven from meadow flowers. 1.347. The knife that bares the entrails of the stricken bull 1.348. Had no role to perform in the sacred rites. 1.349. Ceres was first to delight in the blood of the greedy sow 1.350. Her crops avenged by the rightful death of the guilty creature 1.351. She learned that in spring the grain, milky with sweet juice 1.352. Had been uprooted by the snouts of bristling pigs. 1.353. The swine were punished: terrified by that example 1.354. You should have spared the vine-shoots, he-goat. 1.355. Watching a goat nibbling a vine someone once 1.356. Vented their indignation in these words: 1.357. ‘Gnaw the vine, goat! But when you stand at the altar 1.358. There’ll be something from it to sprinkle on your horns.’ 1.359. Truth followed: Bacchus, your enemy is given you 1.360. To punish, and sprinkled wine flows over its horns. 1.361. The sow suffered for her crime, and the goat for hers: 1.362. But what were you guilty of you sheep and oxen? 1.363. Aristaeus wept because he saw his bees destroyed 1.364. And the hives they had begun left abandoned. 1.365. His azure mother, Cyrene, could barely calm his grief 1.366. But added these final words to what she said: 1.367. ‘Son, cease your tears! Proteus will allay your loss 1.368. And show you how to recover what has perished. 1.369. But lest he still deceives you by changing shape 1.370. Entangle both his hands with strong fastenings.’ 1.371. The youth approached the seer, who was fast asleep 1.372. And bound the arms of that Old Man of the Sea. 1.373. He by his art altered his shape and transformed his face 1.374. But soon reverted to his true form, tamed by the ropes. 1.375. Then raising his dripping head, and sea-green beard 1.376. He said: ‘Do you ask how to recover your bees? 1.377. Kill a heifer and bury its carcase in the earth 1.378. Buried it will produce what you ask of me.’ 1.379. The shepherd obeyed: the beast’s putrid corpse 1.380. Swarmed: one life destroyed created thousands. 1.381. Death claims the sheep: wickedly, it grazed the vervain 1.382. That a pious old woman offered to the rural gods. 1.383. What creature’s safe if woolly sheep, and oxen 1.384. Broken to the plough, lay their lives on the altar? 1.385. Persia propitiates Hyperion, crowned with rays 1.386. With horses, no sluggish victims for the swift god. 1.387. Because a hind was once sacrificed to Diana the twin 1.388. Instead of Iphigeneia, a hind dies, though not for a virgin now. 1.389. I have seen a dog’s entrails offered to Trivia by Sapaeans 1.390. Whose homes border on your snows, Mount Haemus. 1.391. A young ass too is sacrificed to the erect rural guardian 1.392. Priapus, the reason’s shameful, but appropriate to the god. 1.393. Greece, you held a festival of ivy-berried Bacchus 1.394. That used to recur at the appointed time, every third winter. 1.395. There too came the divinities who worshipped him as Lyaeus 1.396. And whoever else was not averse to jesting 1.397. The Pans and the young Satyrs prone to lust 1.398. And the goddesses of rivers and lonely haunts. 1.399. And old Silenus came on a hollow-backed ass 1.400. And crimson Priapus scaring the timid birds with his rod. 1.401. Finding a grove suited to sweet entertainment 1.402. They lay down on beds of grass covered with cloths. 1.403. Liber offered wine, each had brought a garland 1.404. A stream supplied ample water for the mixing. 1.405. There were Naiads too, some with uncombed flowing hair 1.406. Others with their tresses artfully bound. 1.407. One attends with tunic tucked high above the knee 1.408. Another shows her breast through her loosened robe: 1.409. One bares her shoulder: another trails her hem in the grass 1.410. Their tender feet are not encumbered with shoes. 1.411. So some create amorous passion in the Satyrs 1.412. Some in you, Pan, brows wreathed in pine. 1.413. You too Silenus, are on fire, insatiable lecher: 1.414. Wickedness alone prevents you growing old. 1.415. But crimson Priapus, guardian and glory of gardens 1.416. of them all, was captivated by Lotis: 1.417. He desires, and prays, and sighs for her alone 1.418. He signals to her, by nodding, woos her with signs. 1.419. But the lovely are disdainful, pride waits on beauty: 1.420. She laughed at him, and scorned him with a look. 1.421. It was night, and drowsy from the wine 1.422. They lay here and there, overcome by sleep. 1.423. Tired from play, Lotis rested on the grassy earth 1.424. Furthest away, under the maple branches. 1.425. Her lover stood, and holding his breath, stole 1.426. Furtively and silently towards her on tiptoe. 1.427. Reaching the snow-white nymph’s secluded bed 1.428. He took care lest the sound of his breath escaped. 1.429. Now he balanced on his toes on the grass nearby: 1.430. But she was still completely full of sleep. 1.431. He rejoiced, and drawing the cover from her feet 1.432. He happily began to have his way with her. 1.433. Suddenly Silenus’ ass braying raucously 1.434. Gave an untimely bellow from its jaws. 1.435. Terrified the nymph rose, pushed Priapus away 1.436. And, fleeing, gave the alarm to the whole grove. 1.437. But the over-expectant god with his rigid member 1.438. Was laughed at by them all, in the moonlight. 1.439. The creator of that ruckus paid with his life 1.440. And he’s the sacrifice dear to the Hellespontine god. 1.441. You were chaste once, you birds, a rural solace 1.442. You harmless race that haunt the woodlands 1.443. Who build your nests, warm your eggs with your wings 1.444. And utter sweet measures from your ready beaks 1.445. But that is no help to you, because of your guilty tongues 1.446. And the gods’ belief that you reveal their thoughts. 1.447. Nor is that false: since the closer you are to the gods 1.448. The truer the omens you give by voice and flight. 1.449. Though long untouched, birds were killed at last 1.450. And the gods delighted in the informers’ entrails. 1.451. So the white dove, torn from her mate 1.452. Is often burned in the Idalian flames: 1.453. Nor did saving the Capitol benefit the goose 1.454. Who yielded his liver on a dish to you, Inachus’ daughter: 1.455. The cock is sacrificed at night to the Goddess, Night 1.456. Because he summons the day with his waking cries 1.457. While the bright constellation of the Dolphin rise 1.458. Over the sea, and shows his face from his native waters. 3.339. We’ll sever an onion’s, dug from my garden.’ 3.340. The god added: ‘of a man’: ‘You’ll have the hair,’ 3.341. Said the king. He demanded a life, Numa replied: ‘A fish’s’. 3.342. The god laughed and said: ‘Expiate my lightning like this 4.783. I’ve set forth the custom: I must still tell of its origin: 4.784. But many explanations cause me doubt, and hold me back. 4.785. Greedy fire devours all things, and melts away the dro 4.786. From metals: the same method cleans shepherd and sheep? 4.787. Or is it because all things are formed 4.788. of two opposing powers, fire and water 4.789. And our ancestors joined these elements, and thought fit 4.790. To touch their bodies with fire and sprinkled water? 4.791. Or did they think the two so powerful, because they contain 4.792. The source of life: denied to the exile, it makes the new bride? 4.793. I can scarce believe it, but some consider it refer 4.794. To Phaethon, and to Deucalion’s flood. 4.795. Some say, too, that once when shepherds struck 4.796. Stones together, a spark suddenly leapt out: 4.797. The first died, but the second set fire to straw: 4.798. Is that the basis for the fires of the Parilia? 4.799. Or is the custom due rather to Aeneas’ piety 4.800. To whom the fire gave safe passage, in defeat? 4.801. Or is this nearer the truth, that when Rome was founded 4.802. They were commanded to move the Lares to their new homes 4.803. And changing homes the farmers set fire to the houses 4.804. And to the cottages, they were about to abandon 4.805. They and their cattle leaping through the flames 4.806. As happens even now on Rome’s birthday? |
|
6. Vergil, Georgics, 1.50, 1.125-1.146, 2.532-2.537 (1st cent. BCE - 1st cent. BCE)
| 1.50. Elysium's fields, and Proserpine not heed 1.125. Ye husbandmen; in winter's dust the crop 1.126. Exceedingly rejoice, the field hath joy; 1.127. No tilth makes placeName key= 1.128. Nor Gargarus his own harvests so admire. 1.129. Why tell of him, who, having launched his seed 1.130. Sets on for close encounter, and rakes smooth 1.131. The dry dust hillocks, then on the tender corn 1.132. Lets in the flood, whose waters follow fain; 1.133. And when the parched field quivers, and all the blade 1.134. Are dying, from the brow of its hill-bed 1.135. See! see! he lures the runnel; down it falls 1.136. Waking hoarse murmurs o'er the polished stones 1.137. And with its bubblings slakes the thirsty fields? 1.138. Or why of him, who lest the heavy ear 1.139. O'erweigh the stalk, while yet in tender blade 1.140. Feeds down the crop's luxuriance, when its growth 1.141. First tops the furrows? Why of him who drain 1.142. The marsh-land's gathered ooze through soaking sand 1.143. Chiefly what time in treacherous moons a stream 1.144. Goes out in spate, and with its coat of slime 1.145. Holds all the country, whence the hollow dyke 1.146. Sweat steaming vapour? 2.532. Apples, moreover, soon as first they feel 2.533. Their stems wax lusty, and have found their strength 2.534. To heaven climb swiftly, self-impelled, nor crave 2.535. Our succour. All the grove meanwhile no le 2.536. With fruit is swelling, and the wild haunts of bird 2.537. Blush with their blood-red berries. Cytisu |
|
