3. Ovid, Fasti, 1.587-1.616, 3.155-3.160, 3.165, 3.167, 3.523-3.696, 3.698-3.710, 4.949, 4.953, 5.183-5.378, 5.569-5.578, 6.465-6.468 (1st cent. BCE - missingth cent. CE)
| 1.587. offers to the flames the entrails of a gelded ram: 1.588. All the provinces were returned to our people 1.589. And your grandfather was given the name Augustus. 1.590. Read the legends on wax images in noble halls 1.591. Such titles were never bestowed on men before. 1.592. Here Africa named her conqueror after herself: 1.593. Another witnesses to Isaurian or Cretan power tamed: 1.594. This makes glory from Numidians, that Messana 1.595. While the next drew his fame from Numantia. 1.596. Drusus owed his death and glory to Germany – 1.597. Alas, how brief that great virtue was! 1.598. If Caesar was to take his titles from the defeated 1.599. He would need as many names as tribes on earth. 1.600. Some have earned fame from lone enemies 1.601. Named from a torque won or a raven-companion. 1.602. Pompey the Great, your name reflects your deeds 1.603. But he who defeated you was greater still. 1.604. No surname ranks higher than that of the Fabii 1.605. Their family was called Greatest for their services. 1.606. Yet these are human honours bestowed on all. 1.607. Augustus alone has a name that ranks with great Jove. 1.608. Sacred things are called august by the senators 1.609. And so are temples duly dedicated by priestly hands. 1.610. From the same root comes the word augury 1.611. And Jupiter augments things by his power. 1.612. May he augment our leader’s empire and his years 1.613. And may the oak-leaf crown protect his doors. 1.614. By the god’s auspices, may the father’s omen 1.615. Attend the heir of so great a name, when he rules the world. 1.616. When the third sun looks back on the past Ides 3.155. But the calendar was still erratic down to the time 3.156. When Caesar took it, and many other things, in hand. 3.157. That god, the founder of a mighty house, did not 3.158. Regard the matter as beneath his attention 3.159. And wished to have prescience of those heaven 3.160. Promised him, not be an unknown god entering a strange house. 3.165. That’s the measure of the year: one day 3.167. ‘If it’s right for the secret promptings of the god 3.523. Not far from your banks, Tiber, far flowing river. 3.524. The people come and drink there, scattered on the grass 3.525. And every man reclines there with his girl. 3.526. Some tolerate the open sky, a few pitch tents 3.527. And some make leafy huts out of branches 3.528. While others set reeds up, to form rigid pillars 3.529. And hang their outspread robes from the reeds. 3.530. But they’re warmed by sun and wine, and pray 3.531. For as many years as cups, as many as they drink. 3.532. There you’ll find a man who quaffs Nestor’s years 3.533. A woman who’d age as the Sibyl, in her cups. 3.534. There they sing whatever they’ve learnt in the theatres 3.535. Beating time to the words with ready hands 3.536. And setting the bowl down, dance coarsely 3.537. The trim girl leaping about with streaming hair. 3.538. Homecoming they stagger, a sight for vulgar eyes 3.539. And the crowd meeting them call them ‘blessed’. 3.540. I fell in with the procession lately (it seems to me worth 3.541. Saying): a tipsy old woman dragging a tipsy old man. 3.542. But since errors abound as to who this goddess is 3.543. I’m determined not to cloak her story. 3.544. Wretched Dido burned with love for Aeneas 3.545. She burned on the pyre built for her funeral: 3.546. Her ashes were gathered, and this brief couplet 3.547. Which she left, in dying, adorned her tomb: 3.548. AENEAS THE REASON, HIS THE BLADE EMPLOYED. 3.549. DIDO BY HER OWN HAND WAS DESTROYED. 3.550. The Numidians immediately invaded the defencele 3.551. Realm, and Iarbas the Moor captured and held the palace. 3.552. Remembering her scorn, he said: ‘See, I, whom she 3.553. So many times rejected, now enjoy Elissa’s marriage bed.’ 3.554. The Tyrians scattered, as each chanced to stray, as bee 3.555. often wander confusedly, having lost their Queen. 3.556. Anna, was driven from her home, weeping on leaving 3.557. Her sister’s city, after first paying honour to that sister. 3.558. The loose ashes drank perfume mixed with tears 3.559. And received an offering of her shorn hair: 3.560. Three times she said: ‘Farewell!’ three times lifted 3.561. And pressed the ashes to her lips, seeing her sister there. 3.562. Finding a ship, and companions for her flight, she glided 3.563. Away, looking back at the city, her sister’s sweet work. 3.564. There’s a fertile island, Melite, near barren Cosyra 3.565. Lashed by the waves of the Libyan sea. Trusting in 3.566. The king’s former hospitality, she headed there 3.567. Battus was king there, and was a wealthy host. 3.568. When he had learned the fates of the two sisters 3.569. He said: ‘This land, however small, is yours.’ 3.570. He would have been hospitable to the end 3.571. Except that he feared Pygmalion’s great power. 3.572. The corn had been taken to be threshed a third time 3.573. And a third time the new wine poured into empty vats. 3.574. The sun had twice circled the zodiac, and a third year 3.575. Was passing, when Anna had to find a fresh place of exile. 3.576. Her brother came seeking war. The king hated weapons 3.577. And said: ‘We are peaceable, flee for your own safety!’ 3.578. She fled at his command, gave her ship to the wind and waves: 3.579. Her brother was crueller than any ocean. 3.580. There’s a little field by the fish-filled stream 3.581. of stony Crathis: the local people call it Camere. 3.582. There she sailed, and when she was no further away 3.583. Than the distance reached by nine slingshots 3.584. The sails first fell and then flapped in the light breeze. 3.585. ‘Attack the water with oars!’ cried the captain. 3.586. And while they made ready to reef the sails 3.587. The swift South Wind struck the curved stern 3.588. And despite the captain’s efforts swept them 3.589. Into the open sea: the land was lost to sight. 3.590. The waves attacked them, and the ocean heaved 3.591. From the depths, and the hull gulped the foaming waters. 3.592. Skill is defeated by the wind, the steersman no longer 3.593. Guides the helm, but he too turns to prayer for aid. 3.594. The Phoenician exile is thrown high on swollen waves 3.595. And hides her weeping eyes in her robe: 3.596. Then for a first time she called her sister Dido happy 3.597. And whoever, anywhere, might be treading dry land. 3.598. A great gust drove the ship to the Laurentine shore 3.599. And, foundering, it perished, when all had landed. 3.600. Meanwhile pious Aeneas had gained Latinus’ realm 3.601. And his daughter too, and had merged both peoples. 3.602. While he was walking barefoot along the shore 3.603. That had been his dower, accompanied only by Achates 3.604. He saw Anna wandering, not believing it was her: 3.605. ‘Why should she be here in the fields of Latium?’ 3.606. Aeneas said to himself: ‘It’s Anna!’ shouted Achates: 3.607. At the sound of her name she raised her face. 3.608. Alas, what should she do? Flee? Wish for the ground 3.609. To swallow her? Her wretched sister’s fate was before her eyes. 3.610. The Cytherean hero felt her fear, and spoke to her 3.611. (He still wept, moved by your memory, Elissa): 3.612. ‘Anna, I swear, by this land that you once knew 3.613. A happier fate had granted me, and by the god 3.614. My companions, who have lately found a home here 3.615. That all of them often rebuked me for my delay. 3.616. Yet I did not fear her dying, that fear was absent. 3.617. Ah me! Her courage was beyond belief. 3.618. Don’t re-tell it: I saw shameful wounds on her body 3.619. When I dared to visit the houses of Tartarus. 3.620. But you shall enjoy the comforts of my kingdom 3.621. Whether your will or a god brings you to our shores. 3.622. I owe you much, and owe Elissa not a little: 3.623. You are welcome for your own and your sister’s sake.’ 3.624. She accepted his words (no other hope was left) 3.625. And told him of her own wanderings. 3.626. When she entered the palace, dressed in Tyrian style 3.627. Aeneas spoke (the rest of the throng were silent): 3.628. ‘Lavinia, my wife, I have a pious reason for entrusting 3.629. This lady to you: shipwrecked, I lived at her expense. 3.630. She’s of Tyrian birth: her kingdom’s on the Libyan shore: 3.631. I beg you to love her, as your dear sister.’ 3.632. Lavinia promised all, but hid a fancied wrong 3.633. Within her silent heart, and concealed her fears: 3.634. And though she saw many gifts given away openly 3.635. She suspected many more were sent secretly. 3.636. She hadn’t yet decided what to do: she hated 3.637. With fury, prepared a plan, and wished to die avenged. 3.638. It was night: it seemed her sister Dido stood 3.639. Before her bed, her straggling hair stained with her blood 3.640. Crying: ‘Flee, don’t hesitate, flee this gloomy house!’ 3.641. At the words a gust slammed the creaking door. 3.642. Anna leapt up, then jumped from a low window 3.643. To the ground: fear itself had made her daring. 3.644. With terror driving her, clothed in her loose vest 3.645. She runs like a frightened doe that hears the wolves. 3.646. It’s thought that horned Numicius swept her away 3.647. In his swollen flood, and hid her among his pools. 3.648. Meanwhile, shouting, they searched for the Sidonian lady 3.649. Through the fields: traces and tracks were visible: 3.650. Reaching the banks, they found her footprints there. 3.651. The knowing river stemmed his silent waters. 3.652. She herself appeared, saying: ‘I’m a nymph of the calm 3.653. Numicius: hid in perennial waters, Anna Perenna’s my name.’ 3.654. Quickly they set out a feast in the fields they’d roamed 3.655. And celebrated their deeds and the day, with copious wine. 3.656. Some think she’s the Moon, because she measures out 3.657. The year (annus): others, Themis, or the Inachian heifer. 3.658. Anna, you’ll find some to say you’re a nymph, daughter 3.659. of Azan, and gave Jupiter his first nourishment. 3.660. I’ll relate another tale that’s come to my ears 3.661. And it’s not so far away from the truth. 3.662. The Plebs of old, not yet protected by Tribunes 3.663. Fled, and gathered on the Sacred Mount: 3.664. The food supplies they’d brought with them failed 3.665. Also the stores of bread fit for human consumption. 3.666. There was a certain Anna from suburban Bovillae 3.667. A poor woman, old, but very industrious. 3.668. With her grey hair bound up in a light cap 3.669. She used to make coarse cakes with a trembling hand 3.670. And distribute them, still warm, among the people 3.671. Each morning: this supply of hers pleased them all. 3.672. When peace was made at home, they set up a statue 3.673. To Perenna, because she’d helped supply their needs. 3.674. Now it’s left for me to tell why the girls sing coarse songs: 3.675. Since they gather together to sing certain infamous things. 3.676. Anna had lately been made a goddess: Gradivus came to her 3.677. And taking her aside, spoke these words: 3.678. You honour my month: I’ve joined my season to yours: 3.679. I’ve great hopes you can do me a service. 3.680. Armed, I’m captivated by armed Minerva 3.681. I burn, and have nursed the wound for many a day. 3.682. Help us, alike in our pursuits, to become one: 3.683. The part suits you well, courteous old lady.’ 3.684. He spoke. She tricked the god with empty promises. 3.685. And led him on, in foolish hope, with false delays. 3.686. often, when he pressed her, she said: ‘I’ve done as you asked 3.687. She’s won, she’s yielded at last to your prayers.’ 3.688. The lover believed her and prepared the marriage-chamber. 3.689. They led Anna there, a new bride, her face veiled. 3.690. About to kiss her, Mars suddenly saw it was Anna: 3.691. Shame and anger alternating stirred the hoodwinked god. 3.692. The new goddess laughed at her dear Minerva’s lover. 3.693. Nothing indeed has ever pleased Venus more. 3.694. So now they tell old jokes, and coarse songs are sung 3.695. And they delight in how the great god was cheated. 3.696. I was about to neglect those daggers that pierced 3.698. Don’t hesitate to recall them: he was my priest 3.699. And those sacrilegious hands sought me with their blades. 3.700. I snatched him away, and left a naked semblance: 3.701. What died by the steel, was Caesar’s shadow.’ 3.702. Raised to the heavens he found Jupiter’s halls 3.703. And his is the temple in the mighty Forum. 3.704. But all the daring criminals who in defiance 3.705. of the gods, defiled the high priest’s head 3.706. Have fallen in merited death. Philippi is witness 3.707. And those whose scattered bones whiten its earth. 3.708. This work, this duty, was Augustus’ first task 3.709. Avenging his father by the just use of arms. 3.710. When the next dawn has revived the tender grass 4.949. At her kinsman’s threshold: so the Senators justly decreed. 4.953. Decked with branches of oak: one place holds three eternal gods. 5.183. But the sisters’ love was greater than either parent’s: 5.184. It won them the heavens: Hyas gave them his name. 5.185. ‘Mother of the flowers, approach, so we can honour you 5.186. With joyful games! Last month I deferred the task. 5.187. You begin in April, and pass into May’s span: 5.188. One claims you fleeing, the other as it comes on. 5.189. Since the boundaries of the months are yours 5.190. And defer to you, either’s fitting for your praise. 5.191. This is the month of the Circus’ Games, and the victors’ palm 5.192. The audience applauds: let my song accompany the Circus’ show. 5.193. Tell me, yourself, who you are. Men’s opinions err: 5.194. You’ll be the best informant regarding your own name.’ 5.195. So I spoke. So the goddess responded to my question 5.196. (While she spoke, her lips breathed out vernal roses): 5.197. ‘I, called Flora now, was Chloris: the first letter in Greek 5.198. of my name, became corrupted in the Latin language. 5.199. I was Chloris, a nymph of those happy fields 5.200. Where, as you’ve heard, fortunate men once lived. 5.201. It would be difficult to speak of my form, with modesty 5.202. But it brought my mother a god as son-in-law. 5.203. It was spring, I wandered: Zephyrus saw me: I left. 5.204. He followed me: I fled: he was the stronger 5.205. And Boreas had given his brother authority for rape 5.206. By daring to steal a prize from Erechtheus’ house. 5.207. Yet he made amends for his violence, by granting me 5.208. The name of bride, and I’ve nothing to complain of in bed. 5.209. I enjoy perpetual spring: the season’s always bright 5.210. The trees have leaves: the ground is always green. 5.211. I’ve a fruitful garden in the fields that were my dower 5.212. Fanned by the breeze, and watered by a flowing spring. 5.213. My husband stocked it with flowers, richly 5.214. And said: “Goddess, be mistress of the flowers.” 5.215. I often wished to tally the colours set there 5.216. But I couldn’t, there were too many to count. 5.217. As soon as the frosted dew is shaken from the leaves 5.218. And the varied foliage warmed by the sun’s rays 5.219. The Hours gather dressed in colourful clothes 5.220. And collect my gifts in slender baskets. 5.221. The Graces, straight away, draw near, and twine 5.222. Wreaths and garlands to bind their heavenly hair. 5.223. I was first to scatter fresh seeds among countless peoples 5.224. Till then the earth had been a single colour. 5.225. I was first to create the hyacinth, from Spartan blood 5.226. And a lament remains written on its petals. 5.227. You too, Narcissus, were known among the gardens 5.228. Unhappy that you were not other, and yet were other. 5.229. Why tell of Crocus, or Attis, or Adonis, son of Cinyras 5.230. From whose wounds beauty springs, through me? 5.231. Mars too, if you’re unaware, was brought to birth 5.232. By my arts: I pray unknowing Jupiter never knows it. 5.233. Sacred Juno grieved that Jupiter didn’t need 5.234. Her help, when motherless Minerva was born. 5.235. She went to Ocean to complain of her husband’s deeds: 5.236. Tired by the effort she rested at my door. 5.237. Catching sight of her, I said: “Why are you here, Saturnia?” 5.238. She explained what place she sought, and added 5.239. The reason. I consoled her with words of friendship: 5.240. She said: “My cares can’t be lightened by words. 5.241. If Jove can be a father without needing a wife 5.242. And contains both functions in a single person 5.243. Why should I despair of becoming a mother with no 5.244. Husband, and, chaste, give birth though untouched by man? 5.245. I’ll try all the drugs in the whole wide world 5.246. And search the seas, and shores of Tartarus.” 5.247. Her voice flew on: but my face showed doubt. 5.248. She said: “Nymph, it seems you have some power.” 5.249. Three times I wanted to promise help, three times my tongue 5.250. Was tied: mighty Jupiter’s anger was cause for fear. 5.251. She said: “Help me, I beg you, I’ll conceal the fact 5.252. And I’ll call on the powers of the Stygian flood as witness.” 5.253. “A flower, sent to me from the fields of Olenus 5.254. Will grant what you seek,” I replied, “unique, in all my garden. 5.255. He who gave it to me said: ‘Touch a barren heifer with this 5.256. And she’ll be a mother too.’ I did, and she was, instantly.” 5.257. With that, I nipped the clinging flower with my thumb 5.258. Touched Juno, and as I touched her breast she conceived. 5.259. Pregt now, she travelled to Thrace and the northern shore 5.260. of Propontis: her wish was granted, and Mars was born. 5.261. Mindful of his birth that he owed to me, he said: 5.262. “You too must have a place in Romulus’ City.” 5.263. Perhaps you think I only rule over tender garlands. 5.264. But my power also commands the farmers’ fields. 5.265. If the crops have flourished, the threshing-floor is full: 5.266. If the vines have flourished, there’ll be wine: 5.267. If the olive trees have flourished, the year will be bright 5.268. And the fruit will prosper at the proper time. 5.269. If the flower’s damaged, the beans and vetch die 5.270. And your imported lentils, Nile, die too. 5.271. Wine too, laboriously stored in the vast cellars 5.272. Froths, and clouds the wine jars’ surface with mist. 5.273. Honey’s my gift: I call the winged ones who make 5.274. Honey, to the violets, clover and pale thyme. 5.275. I carry out similar functions, when spirit 5.276. Run riot, and bodies themselves flourish.’ 5.277. I admired her, in silence, while she spoke. But she said: 5.278. ‘You may learn the answer to any of your questions.’ 5.279. ‘Goddess’, I replied: ‘What’s the origin of the games?’ 5.280. I’d barely ended when she answered me: 5.281. ‘Rich men owned cattle or tracts of land 5.282. Other means of wealth were then unknown 5.283. So the words ‘rich’ (locuples) from ‘landed’ (locus plenus) 5.284. And ‘money’ (pecunia) from ‘a flock’ (pecus), but already 5.285. Some had unlawful wealth: by custom, for ages 5.286. Public lands were grazed, without penalty. 5.287. Folk had no one to defend the common rights: 5.288. Till at last it was foolish to use private grazing. 5.289. This licence was pointed out to the Publicii 5.290. The plebeian aediles: earlier, men lacked confidence. 5.291. The case was tried before the people: the guilty fined: 5.292. And the champions praised for their public spirit. 5.293. A large part of the fine fell to me: and the victor 5.294. Instituted new games to loud applause. Part was allocated 5.295. To make a way up the Aventine’s slope, then steep rock: 5.296. Now it’s a serviceable track, called the Publician Road.’ 5.297. I believed the shows were annual. She contradicted it 5.298. And added further words to her previous speech: 5.299. ‘Honour touches me too: I delight in festivals and altars: 5.300. We’re a greedy crowd: we divine beings. 5.301. often, through their sins, men render the gods hostile 5.302. And, fawning, offer a sacrifice for their crimes: 5.303. often I’ve seen Jupiter, about to hurl his lightning 5.304. Draw back his hand, when offered a gift of incense. 5.305. But if we’re ignored, we avenge the injury 5.306. With heavy penalties, and our anger passes all bounds. 5.307. Remember Meleager, burnt up by distant flames: 5.308. The reason, because Diana’s altar lacked its fires. 5.309. Remember Agamemnon: the same goddess becalmed the fleet: 5.310. A virgin, yet still she twice avenged her neglected hearth. 5.311. Wretched Hippolytus, you wished you’d worshipped Venus 5.312. When your terrified horses were tearing you apart. 5.313. It would take too long to tell of neglect punished by loss. 5.314. I too was once neglected by the Roman Senate. 5.315. What to do, how to show my indignation? 5.316. What punishment to exact for the harm done me? 5.317. Gloomily, I gave up my office. I ceased to protect 5.318. The countryside, cared nothing for fruitful gardens: 5.319. The lilies drooped: you could see the violets fade 5.320. And the petals of the purple crocus languished. 5.321. often Zephyr said: ‘Don’t destroy your dowry.’ 5.322. But my dowry was worth nothing to me. 5.323. The olives were in blossom: wanton winds hurt them: 5.324. The wheat was ripening: hail blasted the crops: 5.325. The vines were promising: skies darkened from the south 5.326. And the leaves were brought down by sudden rain. 5.327. I didn’t wish it so: I’m not cruel in my anger 5.328. But I neglected to drive away these ills. 5.329. The Senate convened, and voted my godhead 5.330. An annual festival, if the year proved fruitful. 5.331. I accepted their vow. The consuls Laena 5.332. And Postumius celebrated these games of mine. 5.333. I was going to ask why there’s greater 5.334. Wantonness in her games, and freer jests 5.335. But it struck me that the goddess isn’t strict 5.336. And the gifts she brings are agents of delight. 5.337. The drinker’s brow’s wreathed with sewn-on garlands 5.338. And a shower of roses hides the shining table: 5.339. The drunken guest dances, hair bound with lime-tree bark 5.340. And unaware employs the wine’s purest art: 5.341. The drunken lover sings at beauty’s harsh threshold 5.342. And soft garlands crown his perfumed hair. 5.343. Nothing serious for those with garlanded brow 5.344. No running water’s drunk, when crowned with flowers: 5.345. While your stream, Achelous, was free of wine 5.346. No one as yet cared to pluck the rose. 5.347. Bacchus loves flowers: you can see he delight 5.348. In a crown, from Ariadne’s chaplet of stars. 5.349. The comic stage suits her: she’s never: believe me 5.350. Never been counted among the tragic goddesses. 5.351. The reason the crowd of whores celebrate these game 5.352. Is not a difficult one for us to discover. 5.353. The goddess isn’t gloomy, she’s not high-flown 5.354. She wants her rites to be open to the common man 5.355. And warns us to use life’s beauty while it’s in bloom: 5.356. The thorn is spurned when the rose has fallen. 5.357. Why is it, when white robes are handed out for Ceres 5.358. Flora’s neatly dressed in a host of colours? 5.359. Is it because the harvest’s ripe when the ears whiten 5.360. But flowers are of every colour and splendour? 5.361. She nods, and flowers fall as her hair flows 5.362. As roses fall when they’re scattered on a table. 5.363. There’s still the lights, whose reason escaped me 5.364. Till the goddess dispelled my ignorance like this: 5.365. ‘Lights are thought to be fitting for my day 5.366. Because the fields glow with crimson flowers 5.367. Or because flowers and flames aren’t dull in colour 5.368. And the splendour of them both attracts the eye: 5.369. Or because the licence of night suits my delights 5.370. And this third reason’s nearest to the truth.’ 5.371. ‘There’s one little thing besides, for me to ask 5.372. If you’ll allow,’ I said: and she said: ‘It’s allowed.’ 5.373. ‘Why then are gentle deer and shy hare 5.374. Caught in your nets, not Libyan lionesses?’ 5.375. She replied that gardens not woodlands were her care 5.376. And fields where no wild creatures were allowed. 5.377. All was ended: and she vanished into thin air: yet 5.378. Her fragrance lingered: you’d have known it was a goddess. 5.569. And he sees Augustus’ name on the front of the shrine 5.570. And reading ‘Caesar’ there, the work seems greater still. 5.571. He had vowed it as a youth, when dutifully taking arms: 5.572. With such deeds a Prince begins his reign. 5.573. Loyal troops standing here, conspirators over there 5.574. He stretched his hand out, and spoke these words: 5.575. ‘If the death of my ‘father’ Julius, priest of Vesta 5.576. Gives due cause for this war, if I avenge for both 5.577. Come, Mars, and stain the sword with evil blood 5.578. And lend your favour to the better side. You’ll gain 6.465. Crassus, near the Euphrates, lost the eagles, his army 6.466. And his son, and at the end himself as well. 6.467. The goddess said: ‘Parthians, why exult? You’ll send 6.468. The standards back, a Caesar will avenge Crassus’ death.’ |
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