Kal. Feb. 1st
At the beginning of the month Saviour (Sospita) Juno, the neighbour of the Phrygian Mother Goddess, is said to have been honoured with new shrines. If you ask, where are now the temples which on those Calends were dedicated to the goddess? tumbled down they are with the long lapse of time. All the rest had in like sort gone to wrack and ruin, had it not been for the far-seeing care of our sacred chief, under whom the shrines feel not the touch of eld; and not content with doing favours to mankind he does them to the gods. O saintly soul, who dost build and rebuild the temples, I pray the powers above may take such care of thee as thou of them! May the celestials grant thee the length of years which thou bestowest on them, and may they stand on guard before thy house!
Then, too, the grove of H Helernus is thronged with worshippers, fast by the spot where Tiber, coming from afar, makes for the ocean waves. At Numa’s sanctuary, at the Thunderer’s fane upon the Capitol, and on the summit of Jove’s citadel a sheep is slain. Often, muffled in clouds, the South Wind brings up heavy rains, or under fallen snow the earth is hid.
IV. Non. 2nd
“When the next sun, before he sinks into the western waves, shall from his purple steeds undo the jewelled yoke, someone that night, looking up at the stars, shall say,” Where is to-day the Lyre which yesterday shone bright? “And while he seeks the Lyre, he will mark that the back of the Lion also has of a sudden plunged into the watery waste.
III. Non. 3rd
The Dolphin, which of late thou didst see fretted with stars, will on the next night escape thy gaze. (He was raised to heaven) either because he was a lucky go-between in love’s intrigues, or because he carried the Lesbian lyre and the lyre’s master. What sea, what land knows not Arion? By his song he used to stay the running waters. Often at his voice the wolf in pursuit of the lamb stood still, often the lamb halted in fleeing from the ravening wolf; often hounds and hares have couched in the same covert, and the hind upon the rock has stood beside the lioness; at peace the chattering crow has sat with Pallas’ bird, and the dove has been neighbour to the hawk. ’Tis said that Cynthia oft hath stood entranced, tuneful Arion, at thy notes, as if the notes had been struck by her brother’s hand. Arion’s fame had filled Sicilian cities, and by the music of his lyre he had charmed the Ausonian land. Thence wending homewards, he took ship and carried with him the wealth his art had won. Perhaps, poor wretch, thou didst dread the winds and waves, but in sooth the sea was safer for thee than thy ship.
For the helmsman took his stand with a drawn sword, and the rest of the conspiring gang had weapons in their hands. What wouldst thou with a sword? Steer the crazy bark, thou mariner; these weapons ill befit thy hands. Quaking with fear the bard, “I deprecate not death,” said he, “but let me take my lyre and play a little.” They gave him leave and laughed at the delay. He took the crown that might well, Phoebus, become thy locks; he donned his robe twice dipped in Tyrian purple: touched by his thumb, the strings gave back a music all their own, such notes as the swan chants in mournful numbers when the cruel shaft has pierced his snowy brow. Straightway, with all his finery on, he leaped plump down into the waves: the refluent water splashed the azure poop. Thereupon they say (it sounds past credence) a dolphin did submit his arched back to the unusual weight; seated there Arion grasped his lyre and paid his fare in song, and with his chant he charmed the ocean waves. The gods see pious deeds: Jupiter received the dolphin among the constellations, and bade him have nine stars.
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