Shall I pass over or relate thy disgrace, rubicund Priapus r It is a short story, but a very merry one. Cybele, whose brow is crowned with a coronet of towers, invited the eternal gods to her feast. She invited also the satyrs and those rural divinities, the nymphs. Silenus came, though nobody had asked him. It is unlawful, and it would be tedious, to narrate the banquet of the gods: the livelong night was passed in deep potations. Some roamed at haphazard in the vales of shady Ida; some lay and stretched their limbs at ease on the soft grass; some played; some slept; some, arm linked in arm, thrice beat with rapid foot the verdant ground. Vesta lay and careless took her peaceful rest, just as she was, her head low laid and propped upon a sod. But the ruddy guardian of gardens courted nymphs and goddesses, and to and fro he turned his roving steps. He spied Vesta too; it is doubtful whether he took her for a nymph or knew her to be Vesta; he himself said that he knew her not. He conceived a wanton hope, and tried to approach her furtively; he walked on tiptoe with throbbing heart. It chanced that old Silenus had left the ass, on which he rode, on the banks of a babbling brook. The god of the long Hellespont was going to begin, when the ass uttered an ill-timed bray. Frightened by the deep voice, the goddess started up; the whole troop flocked together; Priapus made his escape between hands that would have stopped him. Lampsacus is wont to sacrifice this animal to Priapus, saying: “We give to the flames the inwards of the tell-tale ass.” That animal, goddess, thou dost adorn with necklaces of loaves in memory of the event: work comes to a stop: the mills are empty and silent.
I will explain the meaning of an altar of Baker Jupiter, which stands on the citadel of the Thunderer and is more famous for its name than for its value. The Capitol was surrounded and hard pressed by the fierce Gauls: the long siege had already caused a famine. Having summoned the celestial gods to his royal throne, Jupiter said to Mars, “Begin.” Straightway Mars made answer: “Forsooth, nobody knows the plight of my people, and this my sorrow needs to find utterance in complaint. But if thou dost require me to declare in brief the sad and shameful tale: Rome lies at the foot of the Alpine foe. Is this that Rome, O Jupiter, to which was promised the domination of the world? is this that Rome which thou didst purpose to make the mistress of the earth? Already she had crushed her neighbours and the Etruscan hosts. Hope was in full career, but now she is driven from her own hearth and home. We have seen old men decked in embroidered robes—the symbol of the triumphs they had won—cut down within their bronze-lined halls. We have seen the pledges of Ilian Vesta removed from their proper seat: plainly the Romans think that some gods exist. But if they were to look back to the citadel in which ye dwell, and to see so many of your homes beleaguered, they would know that the worship of the gods is of no avail, and that incense offered by an anxious hand is thrown away. And would that they could find a clear field of battle! Let them take arms, and, if they cannot conquer, then let them fall!
As it is, starving and dreading a coward’s death, they are shut up and pressed hard on their own hill by a barbarous mob.” Then Venus and Quirinus, in the pomp of augur’s staff and striped gown, and Vesta pleaded hard for their own Latium. Jupiter replied, “A general providence is charged with the defence of yonder walls. Gaul will be vanquished and will pay the penalty. Only do thou, Vesta, look to it that the com which is lacking may be thought to abound, and do not abandon thy proper seat. Let all the grain that is yet unground be crushed in the hollow mill, let it be kneaded by hand and roasted by fire in the oven.” So Jupiter commanded, and the virgin daughter of Saturn assented to her brother’s command. It was the hour of midnight: now sleep had overcome the wearied leaders. Jupiter chode them, and with his sacred lips informed them of his will. “Arise and from the topmost battlements cast into the midst of the foe the last resource which ye would wish to yield.” Sleep left them, and moved by the strange riddle they inquired what resource they were bidden to yield against their will. They thought it must be corn. They threw down the gifts of the Corn-goddess, which, in falling, clattered upon the helmets and long shields of the foe. The hope that the citadel could be reduced by famine now vanished: the enemy was repulsed and a white altar set up to Baker Jupiter.
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