month; and ever with varying phase she tells the date of the dawn that comes round.
Those twelve signs of the Zodiac are sufficient to tell the limits of the night. But they—to mark the great year—the season to plough and sow the fallow field and the season to plant the tree—are already revealed of Zeus and set on every side. Yea, and on the sea, too, many a sailor has marked the coming of the stormy tempest, remembering either dread Arcturus or other stars that draw from ocean in the morning twilight or at the first fall of night. For verily through them all the Sun passes in yearly course, as he drives his mighty furrow, and now to one, now to another he draws near, now as he rises and anon as he sets, and ever another star looks upon another morn.
This thou too knowest, for celebrated by all now are the nineteen cycles of the bright Sun—thou knowest all the stars wheeled aloft by Night from Orion’s belt to the last of Orion and his bold hound, the stars of Poseidon, the stars of Zeus, which, marked, display fit signs of the seasons. Wherefore to them give careful heed and if ever thy trust is in a ship, be it thine to watch what signs in the heavens are labouring under stormy winds or squall at sea. Small is the trouble and thousandfold the reward of his heedfulness who ever takes care. First he himself is safer, and well, too, he profits another by his warning, when a storm is rushing near.
For oft, too, beneath a calm night the sailor shortens sail for fear of the morning sea.
Sometimes the storm comes on the third day, sometimes on the fifth, but sometimes the evil comes all unforeseen. For not yet do we mortals know all from Zeus, but much still remains hidden, whereof, what he will, even hereafter will he reveal; for openly he aids the race of men, manifesting himself on every side and showing signs on every hand. Some messages the Moon will convey with orb half-full as she waxes or wanes, others when full: others the Sun by warnings at dawn and again at the edge of night, and other hints from other source can be drawn for day and night.
Scan first the horns on either side the Moon. For with varying hue from time to time the evening paints her and of different shape are her horns at different times as the Moon is waxing—one form on the third day and other on the fourth. From them thou canst learn touching the month that is begun. If she is slender and clear about the third day, she heralds calm: if slender and very ruddy, wind; but if thick and with blunted horns she show but a feeble light on the third and fourth night, her beams are blunted by the South wind or imminent rain. If on the third night neither horn nod forward or lean backward, if vertical they curve their tips on either side, winds from the West will follow that night. But if still with vertical crescent she bring the fourth day too, she gives warning of gathering storm.
If her upper horn nod forward, expect thou the North wind, but if it lean backward, the South. But when on the third day a complete halo, blushing red, encircles her, she foretells storm and, the fierier her blush, the fiercer the tempest.
Scan her when full and when half-formed on either side of full, as she waxes from or wanes again to crescent form, and from her hue forecast each month. When quite bright her hue, forecast fair weather; when ruddy, expect the rushing wind; when dark stained with spots, look out for rain. But not for every day is appointed a separate sign, but the signs of the third and fourth day betoken the weather up to the half Moon; those of the half Moon up to full Moon; and in turn the signs of the full Moon up to the waning half Moon; the signs of the half Moon are followed by those of the fourth day from the end of the waning month, and they in their turn by those of the third day of the new month. But if halos encircle all the Moon, set triple or double about her or only single—with the single ring, expect wind or calm; when the ring is broken, wind; when faint and fading, calm; two rings girding the Moon forebode storm; a triple halo would bring a greater storm, and greater still, if black, and more furious still, if the rings are broken.
Such warnings for the month thou canst learn from the Moon.
To the Sun’s march at East and West give heed. His hints give even more pertinent warning both at setting, and when he comes from below the verge. May not his orb, whenever thou desirest a fair day, be variegated when first his arrows strike the earth, and may he wear no mark at all but shine stainless altogether. If again thus all pure he be in the hour when the oxen are loosed, and set cloudless in the evening with gentle beam, he will still be at the coming dawn attended with fair weather. But not so, when he rises with seemingly hollow disk, nor when his beams part to strike or North or South, while his centre is bright. But then in truth he journeys either through rain or through wind.
Scan closely, if his beams allow thee, the Sun himself, for scanning him is best, to see if either some blush run over him, as often he shows a blush or here or there, when he fares through trailing clouds, or if haply he is darkened. Let the dark stain be sign to thee of coming rain, and every blush be sign of wind. But if he is draped both black and red at once, he will bring rain and will strain beneath the wind.
But if the rays of the rising or setting Sun converge and crowd on one spot, or if he go from night to dawn, or from dawn to night, closely beset with clouds, those days will run in company with rushing rain. Nor be thou heedless of rain, what time before him rises a thin mist, after which the Sun himself ascends with scanty beams. But when a broad belt of mist seems to melt and widen before the rising Sun and anon narrows to less, fair will be his course, and fair too, if in the season of winter his hue wax wan at eventide. But for to-morrow’s rain face the setting Sun and scan the clouds. If a darkening cloud overshadow the Sun and if around that cloud the beams that wheel between the Sun and it part to either side of the cloud, thou shalt still need shelter for the dawn. But if without a cloud he dip in the western ocean, and as he is sinking, or still when he is gone, the clouds stand near him blushing red, neither on the morrow nor in the night needst thou be over-fearful of rain. But fear the coming rain when on a sudden the Sun’s rays seem to thin and pale—just as they often fade when the Moon overshadows them, what time she stands straight between the earth and
Sun; nor are the fields unwetted on that day, when before the dawn, as the Sun delays to shine, reddish clouds appear here or there. Be not heedless either of wind or rain to come, when, while the Sun is still below the verge, his precursor beams shine shadowy in the dawn. The more those beams are borne in shadow, the surer sign they give of rain, but if but faint the dusk that veils his beams, like a soft mist of vapour, that veil of dusk portends wind. Nor are dark halos near the Sun signs of fair weather: when nearer the Sun and dark without relief, they portend greater storms: if there are two rings, they will herald tempests fiercer still.
Mark as the Sun is rising or setting, whether the clouds, called parhelia, blush (on South or North or both), nor make the observation in careless mood. For when on both sides at once those clouds gird the Sun, low down upon the horizon, there is no lingering of the storm that comes from Zeus. But if only one shine purple to the North, from the North will it bring the blast; if in the South: from the South; or down pour the pattering raindrops.
With even greater care mark those signals when in the West, for from the West the warnings are given ever with equal and unfailing certainty.
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