|
Salvete omnes,
In honor of Floralia:
Book V: May 2
When Hyperion's daughter puts the stars to flight,
Raising her light, behind her horses of dawn,
A cold north-westerly will smooth the wheat-tips,
White sails will put out from Calabrian waters.
And when shadowy twilight leads on the night,
No part of the whole herd of Hyades is unknown.
The radiant head of Taurus glitters with seven flames,
That Greek sailors named the Hyades, from `rain' (hyein):
Some think they nursed Bacchus, others believe
They're the granddaughters of Tethys and old Ocean.
Atlas was not yet standing there, his shoulders weighed
By Olympus, when Hyas, known for his beauty, was born:
Aethra, of Ocean's lineage, gave birth to him
And the nymphs at full term, but Hyas was born first.
When the down was new on his cheeks, he scared away
The frightened deer, in terror, and a hare was a good prize.
But when his courage had grown with his years, he dared
To close with wild boar and shaggy lionesses,
And while seeking the lair of a pregnant lioness, and her cubs,
He himself was the bloodstained victim of that Libyan beast.
His mother and his saddened sisters wept for Hyas,
And Atlas, soon doomed to bow his neck beneath the pole,
But the sisters' love was greater than either parent's:
It won them the heavens: Hyas gave them his name.
`Mother of the flowers, approach, so we can honour you
With joyful games! Last month I deferred the task.
You begin in April, and pass into May's span:
One claims you fleeing, the other as it comes on.
Since the boundaries of the months are yours,
And defer to you, either's fitting for your praise.
This is the month of the Circus' Games, and the victors' palm
The audience applauds: let my song accompany the Circus' show.
Tell me, yourself, who you are. Men's opinions err:
You'll be the best informant regarding your own name.'
So I spoke. So the goddess responded to my question,
(While she spoke, her lips breathed out vernal roses):
`I, called Flora now, was Chloris: the first letter in Greek
Of my name, became corrupted in the Latin language.
I was Chloris, a nymph of those happy fields,
Where, as you've heard, fortunate men once lived.
It would be difficult to speak of my form, with modesty,
But it brought my mother a god as son-in-law.
It was spring, I wandered: Zephyrus saw me: I left.
He followed me: I fled: he was the stronger,
And Boreas had given his brother authority for rape
By daring to steal a prize from Erechtheus' house.
Yet he made amends for his violence, by granting me
The name of bride, and I've nothing to complain of in bed.
I enjoy perpetual spring: the season's always bright,
The trees have leaves: the ground is always green.
I've a fruitful garden in the fields that were my dower,
Fanned by the breeze, and watered by a flowing spring.
My husband stocked it with flowers, richly,
And said: "Goddess, be mistress of the flowers."
I often wished to tally the colours set there,
But I couldn't, there were too many to count.
As soon as the frosted dew is shaken from the leaves,
And the varied foliage warmed by the sun's rays,
The Hours gather dressed in colourful clothes,
And collect my gifts in slender baskets.
The Graces, straight away, draw near, and twine
Wreaths and garlands to bind their heavenly hair.
I was first to scatter fresh seeds among countless peoples,
Till then the earth had been a single colour.
I was first to create the hyacinth, from Spartan blood,
And a lament remains written on its petals.
You too, Narcissus, were known among the gardens,
Unhappy that you were not other, and yet were other.
Why tell of Crocus, or Attis, or Adonis, son of Cinyras,
From whose wounds beauty springs, through me?
Mars too, if you're unaware, was brought to birth
By my arts: I pray unknowing Jupiter never knows it.
Sacred Juno grieved that Jupiter didn't need
Her help, when motherless Minerva was born.
She went to Ocean to complain of her husband's deeds:
Tired by the effort she rested at my door.
Catching sight of her, I said: "Why are you here, Saturnia?"
She explained what place she sought, and added
The reason. I consoled her with words of friendship:
She said: "My cares can't be lightened by words.
If Jove can be a father without needing a wife,
And contains both functions in a single person,
Why should I despair of becoming a mother with no
Husband, and, chaste, give birth though untouched by man?
I'll try all the drugs in the whole wide world,
And search the seas, and shores of Tartarus."
Her voice flew on: but my face showed doubt.
She said: "Nymph, it seems you have some power."
Three times I wanted to promise help, three times my tongue
Was tied: mighty Jupiter's anger was cause for fear.
She said: "Help me, I beg you, I'll conceal the fact,
And I'll call on the powers of the Stygian flood as witness."
"A flower, sent to me from the fields of Olenus,
Will grant what you seek," I replied, "unique, in all my garden.
He who gave it to me said: `Touch a barren heifer with this,
And she'll be a mother too.' I did, and she was, instantly."
With that, I nipped the clinging flower with my thumb,
Touched Juno, and as I touched her breast she conceived.
Pregnant now, she travelled to Thrace and the northern shores
Of Propontis: her wish was granted, and Mars was born.
Mindful of his birth that he owed to me, he said:
"You too must have a place in Romulus' City."
Perhaps you think I only rule over tender garlands.
But my power also commands the farmers' fields.
If the crops have flourished, the threshing-floor is full:
If the vines have flourished, there'll be wine:
If the olive trees have flourished, the year will be bright,
And the fruit will prosper at the proper time.
If the flower's damaged, the beans and vetch die,
And your imported lentils, Nile, die too.
Wine too, laboriously stored in the vast cellars,
Froths, and clouds the wine jars' surface with mist.
Honey's my gift: I call the winged ones who make
Honey, to the violets, clover and pale thyme.
I carry out similar functions, when spirits
Run riot, and bodies themselves flourish.'
I admired her, in silence, while she spoke. But she said:
`You may learn the answer to any of your questions.'
`Goddess', I replied: `What's the origin of the games?'
I'd barely ended when she answered me:
`Rich men owned cattle or tracts of land,
Other means of wealth were then unknown,
So the words `rich' (locuples) from `landed' (locus plenus),
And `money' (pecunia) from `a flock' (pecus), but already
Some had unlawful wealth: by custom, for ages,
Public lands were grazed, without penalty.
Folk had no one to defend the common rights:
Till at last it was foolish to use private grazing.
This licence was pointed out to the Publicii,
The plebeian aediles: earlier, men lacked confidence.
The case was tried before the people: the guilty fined:
And the champions praised for their public spirit.
A large part of the fine fell to me: and the victors
Instituted new games to loud applause. Part was allocated
To make a way up the Aventine's slope, then steep rock:
Now it's a serviceable track, called the Publician Road.'
I believed the shows were annual. She contradicted it,
And added further words to her previous speech:
`Honour touches me too: I delight in festivals and altars:
We're a greedy crowd: we divine beings.
Often, through their sins, men render the gods hostile,
And, fawning, offer a sacrifice for their crimes:
Often I've seen Jupiter, about to hurl his lightning,
Draw back his hand, when offered a gift of incense.
But if we're ignored, we avenge the injury
With heavy penalties, and our anger passes all bounds.
Remember Meleager, burnt up by distant flames:
The reason, because Diana's altar lacked its fires.
Remember Agamemnon: the same goddess becalmed the fleet:
A virgin, yet still she twice avenged her neglected hearth.
Wretched Hippolytus, you wished you'd worshipped Venus,
When your terrified horses were tearing you apart.
It would take too long to tell of neglect punished by loss.
I too was once neglected by the Roman Senate.
What to do, how to show my indignation?
What punishment to exact for the harm done me?
Gloomily, I gave up my office. I ceased to protect
The countryside, cared nothing for fruitful gardens:
The lilies drooped: you could see the violets fade,
And the petals of the purple crocus languished.
Often Zephyr said: `Don't destroy your dowry.'
But my dowry was worth nothing to me.
The olives were in blossom: wanton winds hurt them:
The wheat was ripening: hail blasted the crops:
The vines were promising: skies darkened from the south,
And the leaves were brought down by sudden rain.
I didn't wish it so: I'm not cruel in my anger,
But I neglected to drive away these ills.
The Senate convened, and voted my godhead
An annual festival, if the year proved fruitful.
I accepted their vow. The consuls Laenas
And Postumius celebrated these games of mine.
I was going to ask why there's greater
Wantonness in her games, and freer jests,
But it struck me that the goddess isn't strict,
And the gifts she brings are agents of delight.
The drinker's brow's wreathed with sewn-on garlands,
And a shower of roses hides the shining table:
The drunken guest dances, hair bound with lime-tree bark,
And unaware employs the wine's purest art:
The drunken lover sings at beauty's harsh threshold,
And soft garlands crown his perfumed hair.
Nothing serious for those with garlanded brow,
No running water's drunk, when crowned with flowers:
While your stream, Achelous, was free of wine,
No one as yet cared to pluck the rose.
Bacchus loves flowers: you can see he delights
In a crown, from Ariadne's chaplet of stars.
The comic stage suits her: she's never: believe me,
Never been counted among the tragic goddesses.
The reason the crowd of whores celebrate these games
Is not a difficult one for us to discover.
The goddess isn't gloomy, she's not high-flown,
She wants her rites to be open to the common man,
And warns us to use life's beauty while it's in bloom:
The thorn is spurned when the rose has fallen.
Why is it, when white robes are handed out for Ceres,
Flora's neatly dressed in a host of colours?
Is it because the harvest's ripe when the ears whiten,
But flowers are of every colour and splendour?
She nods, and flowers fall as her hair flows,
As roses fall when they're scattered on a table.
There's still the lights, whose reason escaped me,
Till the goddess dispelled my ignorance like this:
`Lights are thought to be fitting for my day,
Because the fields glow with crimson flowers,
Or because flowers and flames aren't dull in colour,
And the splendour of them both attracts the eye:
Or because the licence of night suits my delights,
And this third reason's nearest to the truth.'
`There's one little thing besides, for me to ask,
If you'll allow,' I said: and she said: `It's allowed.'
`Why then are gentle deer and shy hares
Caught in your nets, not Libyan lionesses?'
She replied that gardens not woodlands were her care,
And fields where no wild creatures were allowed.
All was ended: and she vanished into thin air: yet
Her fragrance lingered: you'd have known it was a goddess.
Scatter your gifts, I beg you, over my breast,
So Ovid's song may flower forever.
Postera quum roseam pulsis Hyperionis astris
In matutinis lampada tollit equis, 160
Frigidus Argestes summas mulcebit aristas,
Candidaque a Calabris vela dabuntur aquis.
At simul inducunt obscura crepuscula noctem,
Pars Hyadum toto de grege nulla latet.
Ora micant Tauri septem radiantia flammis, 165
Navita quas Hyadas Graius ab imbre vocat.
Pars Bacchum nutrisse putat: pars credidit esse
Tethyos has neptes, Oceanique senis.
Nondum stabat Atlas humeros oneratus Olympo,
Quum satus est forma conspiciendus Hyas. 170
Hunc stirps Oceani maturis nisibus aethra
Edidit, et Nymphas: sed prior ortus Hyas.
Dum nova lanugo, pavidos formidine cervos
Terret: et est illi praeda benigna lepus.
At postquam virtus annis adolevit, in apros 175
Audet et hirsutas cominus ire feras.
Dumque petit latebras fetae catulosque leaenae,
Ipse fuit Libycae praeda cruenta ferae.
Mater Hyan, et Hyan moestae flevere sorores,
Cervicemque polo suppositurus Atlas. 180
Victus uterque parens tamen est pietate sororum.
Illa dedit coelum: nomina fecit Hyas.
Mater, ades, florum, ludis celebranda jocosis:
Distuleram partes mense priore tuas.
Incipis Aprili: transis in tempora Maii. 185
Alter te fugiens, quum venit alter, habet.
Quum tua sint cedantque tibi confinia mensum,
Convenit in laudes ille vel iste tuas.
Circus in hunc exit, clamataque palma theatris:
Hoc quoque cum Circi munere carmen eat. 190
Ipsa doce, quae sis. Hominum sententia fallax,
Optima tu proprii nominis auctor eris.
Sic ego. Sic nostris respondit diva rogatis:
--Dum loquitur, vernas efflat ab ore rosas--
Chloris eram, quae Flora vocor. Corrupta Latino 195
Nominis est nostri littera Graeca sono.
Chloris eram Nymphe campi felicis, ubi audis
Rem fortunatis ante fuisse viris.
Quae fuerit mihi forma, grave est narrare modestae:
Sed generum matri repperit illa deum. 200
Ver erat: errabam: Zephyrus conspexit. Abibam:
Insequitur; fugio. Fortior ille fuit.
Et dederat fratri Boreas jus omne rapinae,
Ausus Erechthea praemia ferre domo.
Vim tamen emendat dando mihi nomina nuptae: 205
Inque meo non est ulla querela toro.
Vere fruor semper: semper nitidissimus annus.
Arbor habet frondes, pabula semper humus.
Est mihi fecundus dotalibus hortus in agris.
Aura fovet; liquidae fonte rigatur aquae. 210
Hunc meus implevit generoso flore maritus:
Atque ait, Arbitrium tu, dea, floris habe.
Saepe ego digestos volui numerare colores;
Nec potui; numero copia major erat.
Roscida quum primum foliis excussa pruina est, 215
Et variae radiis intepuere comae;
Conveniunt pictis incinctae vestibus Horae,
Inque leves calathos munera nostra legunt.
Protinus accedunt Charites, nectuntque coronas,
Sertaque coelestes implicitura comas. 220
Prima per immensas sparsi nova semina gentes.
Unius tellus ante coloris erat.
Prima Therapnaeo feci de sanguine florem:
Et manet in folio scripta querela suo.
Tu quoque nomen habes cultos, Narcisse, per hortos: 225
Infelix, quod non alter et alter eras!
Quid Crocon, aut Attin referam, Cinyraque creatum,
De quorum per me vulnere surgit honor?
Mars quoque, si nescis, per nostras editus artes.
Jupiter hoc ut adhuc nesciat, usque precor. 230
Sancta Jovem Juno, nata sine matre Minerva,
Officio doluit non eguisse suo.
Ibat, ut Oceano quereretur facta mariti:
Restitit ad nostras fessa labore fores.
Quam simul adspexi, Quid te, Saturnia, dixi, 235
Attulit? Exponit, quem petat illa locum.
Addidit et causam. Verbis solabar amicis.
Non, inquit, verbis cura levanda mea est.
Si pater est factus neglecto conjugis usu
Jupiter, et solus nomen utrumque tenet; 240
Cur ego desperem fieri sine conjuge mater,
Et parere intacto, dummodo casta, viro?
Omnia tentabo latis medicamina terris,
Et freta Tartareos excutiamque sinus.
Vox erat in cursu: vultum dubitantis haebebam. 245
Nescio quid, Nymphe, posse videris, ait.
Ter volui promittere opem, ter lingua retenta est:
Ira Jovis magni causa timoris erat.
Fer, precor, auxilium, dixit; celabitur auctor:
Et Stygiae numen testificatur aquae. 250
Quod petis, Oleniis, inquam, mihi missus ab arvis
Flos dabit. Est hortis unicus ille meis.
Qui dabat, Hoc, dixit, sterilem quoque tange juvencam;
Mater erit. Tetigi; nec mora, mater erat.
Protinus haerentem decerpsi pollice florem. 255
Tangitur; et tacto concipit illa sinu.
Jamque gravis Thracen et laeva Propontidos intrat,
Fitque potens voti; Marsque creatus erat;
Qui memor accepti per me natalis, Habeto
Tu quoque Romulea, dixit, in urbe locum. 260
Forsitan in teneris tantum mea regna coronis
Esse putes; tangit numen et arva meum.
Si bene floruerint segetes, erit area dives:
Si bene floruerit vinea, Bacchus erit.
Si bene floruerint oleae, nitidissimus annus, 265
Pomaque proventum temporis hujus habent.
Flore semel laeso pereunt viciaeque fabaeque,
Et pereunt lentes, advena Nile, tuae.
Vina quoque in magnis operose condita cellis
Florent, et nebulae dolia summa tegunt. 270
Mella meum munus. Volucres ego mella daturas
Ad violam, et cytisos, et thyma cana voco.
Nos quoque idem facimus tunc, quum juvenilibus annis
Luxuriant animi, corporaque ipsa vigent.
Talia dicentem tacitus mirabar. At illa, 275
Jus tibi discendi, si qua requiris, ait.
Dic, dea, ludorum, respondi, quae sit origo.
Vix bene desieram; rettulit illa mihi.
Cetera luxurise nondum instrumenta vigebant:
Aut pecus, aut latam dives habebat humum. 280
Hinc etiam _locuples_, hinc ipsa _pecunia_ dicta est.
Sed jam de vetito quisque parabat opes.
Venerat in morem populi depascere saltus:
Idque diu licuit, poenaque nulla fuit.
Vindice servabat nullo sua publica vulgus: 285
Jamque in privato pascere inertis erat.
Plebis ad aediles perducta licentia talis
Publicios; animus defuit ante viris.
Rem populus recipit: mulctam subiere nocentes.
Vindicibus laudi publica cura fuit. 290
Mulcta data est ex parte mihi: magnoque favore
Victores ludos instituere novos.
Parte locant clivum, qui tune erat ardua rupes.
Utile nunc iter est, Publiciumque vocant.
Annua credideram spectacula facta; negavit: 295
Addidit et dictis altera verba suis.
Nos quoque tangit honos, festis gaudemus et aris:
Turbaque coelestes ambitiosa sumus.
Saepe deos aliquis peccando fecit iniquos:
Et pro delictis hostia blanda fuit. 300
Saepe Jovem vidi, quum jam sua mittere vellet
Fulmina, ture dato sustinuisse manum.
At si negligimur, magnis injuria poenis
Solvitur, et justum praeterit ira modum.
Respice Thestiaden; flammis absentibus arsit. 305
Causa est, quod Phoebes ara sine igne fuit.
Respice Tantaliden: eadem dea vela tenebat.
Virgo est, et spretos his tamen ulta focos.
Hippolyte infelix, velles coluisse Dionen,
Quum consternatis deripereris equis. 310
Longa referre mora est correcta oblivia damnis.
Me quoque Romani praeteriere Patres.
Quid facerem? per quod fierem manifesta doloris?
Exigerem nostrae qualia damna notae?
Excidit officium tristi mihi. Nulla tuebar 315
Rura, nec in pretio fertilis hortus erat.
Lilia deciderant: violas arere videres,
Filaque punicei languida facta croci.
Saepe mihi Zephyrus, Dotes corrumpere noli
Ipsa tuas, dixit. Dos mihi vilis erat. 320
Florebant oleae; venti nocuere protervi.
Florebant segetes; grandine laesa Ceres.
In spe vitis erat: coelum nigrescit ab Austris,
Et subita frondes decutiuntur aqua.
Nec volui fieri, nec sum crudelis in ira: 325
Cura repellendi sed mihi nulla fuit.
Convenere Patres, et, si bene floreat annus,
Numinibus nostris annua festa vovent.
Annuimus voto. Consul cum Consule ludos
Postumio Laenas persoluere mihi. 330
Quaerere conabar, quare lascivia major
His foret in ludis, liberiorque jocus:
Sed mihi succurrit, numen non esse severum,
Aptaque deliciis munera ferre deam.
Tempora sutilibus cinguntur tota coronis, 335
Et latet injecta splendida mensa rosa.
Ebrius incinctis philyra conviva capillis
Saltat, et imprudens vertitur arte meri.
Ebrius ad durum formosse limen amicae
Cantat. Habent unctae mollia serta comae. 340
Nulla coronata peraguntur seria fronte;
Nec liquidae vinctis flore bibuntur aquae.
Donec eras mixtus nullis, Acheloë, racemis,
Gratia sumendae non erat ulla rosae.
Bacchus amat flores: Baccho placuisse coronam, 345
Ex Ariadnaeo sidere nosse potes.
Scena levis decet hanc: non est, mihi credite, non est
Illa cothurnatas inter habenda deas.
Turba quidem cur hos celebret meretricia ludos,
Non ex difficili causa petita subest. 350
Non est de tetricis, nori est de magna professis:
Vult sua plebeio sacra patere choro:
Et monet setatis specie, dum floreat, uti:
Contemni spinam, quum cecidere rosae.
Cur tamen, ut dantur vestes Cerealibus albae, 355
Sic est haec cultu versicolore decens?
An quia maturis albescit messis aristis,
Et color et species floribus omnis inest?
Annuit; et motis flores cecidere capillis,
Accidere in mensas ut rosa missa solet. 360
Lumina restabant; quorum me causa latebat,
Quum sic errores abstulit illa meos:
Vel quia purpureis collucent floribus agri;
Lumina sunt nostros visa decere dies:
Vel quia nec flos est hebeti, nec flamma, colore; 365
Atque oculos in se splendor uterque trahit;
Vel quia deliciis nocturna licentia nostris
Convenit. A vero tertia causa venit.
Est breve praeterea, de quo mihi quaerere restat,
Si liceat, dixi. Dixit et illa, Licet. 370
Cur tibi pro Libycis clauduntur rete leaenis
Imbelles capreae, sollicitusque lepus?
Non sibi, respondit, silvas cessisse, sed hortos,
Arvaque pugnaci non adeunda ferae.
Omnia finierat: tenues secessit in auras. 375
Mansit odor: posses scire fuisse deam.
Floreat ut toto carmen Nasonis in aevo,
Vale,
Julia
|