OVID: FASTI: BOOK III: MARCH

Introduction:

For an introduction to the work of the "Fasti" as a whole, the reader is referred to the introduction to Sabidius' translation of Book I (concerning January), which was published on this blog on 26th January 2020.

In Book III, Ovid continues his investigations into the religious ceremonies and festivals which marked the Roman calendar, and uses these explanations as an opportunity to recount a number of interesting and entertaining stories. The Book opens with an invocation of Mars, father of Romulus and so the patron-god of Rome, whose name gave rise to March and whose temple dominated the newly built Forum of Augustus (ll. 1-8). Before the month's festivals are highlighted there is a very detailed account of the month's name (ll. 9-86) and its position in the year (ll. 87-166): Ovid claims that in the time of Romulus, there were only ten months in the year and that March was the first of them. At the end of this account there is a long discussion of the rites of the 'Matronalia' on the first day of the month. In order to explain why the first day of a month consecrated to the god of war should have involved a celebration of motherhood and childbirth, Ovid provides a long interview with Mars, in which he discusses the rape of the Sabine women and the war that followed, and the role of Juno Lucina (ll. 167-258). Other highlights include the tale of how Bacchus transforms Ariadne into a constellation in order to prove his love for her, despite his flirting with an Indian princess (ll. 459-516); the eventful life of Anna Perenna, from the death of her sister Dido to how, after her deification, she tricks Mars into believing he is about to make love to Minerva (ll. 523-696); the many skills of which Minerva is the goddess (ll. 809-834); the origin of the libation cakes that are made for the 'Liberalia' festival (ll. 713-790); and how the Golden Fleece reached Colchis following the death of Helle (ll. 849-876).

The Latin text for this translation has been taken from "Ovid's Fasti", edited by Sir James George Frazer, Harvard University Press, published by William Heinemann, London (1933), which is available on the Perseus website, sponsored by the Classical Department of Tufts University. Sabidius has also made use of the translation and accompanying notes of "Ovid: Fasti", edited by A.J. Boyle and R.D. Woodward, Penguin Books (2000), and of the translation of the "Fasti" provided by A.S. Kline on his "Poetry in Translation" website.

Proem (vv. 1-166).

a. Invocation of Mars (vv. 1-8).

Mars, (God) of War, having set aside your shield and spear for a while, be present and free your shining hair from your helmet. Perhaps you yourself may ask what does a poet have to do with Mars: the month about which I sing, takes its name from you. You, yourself, see fierce wars waged at the hands of Minerva: is she any the less free (to perform) the noble arts? (Following) the example of Pallas (i.e. Minerva), take the opportunity to discard your lance: you will find (something) which you can do unarmed.

b. The naming of the month (vv. 9-86).

You were also then unarmed, when that Roman priestess (i.e. Rhea Silvia) captivated you, so that you could give this city its mighty seeds (i.e. Romulus and Remus). The Vestal Silvia - for what prohibits me from starting here? - was seeking water at dawn to wash sacred (vessels). She had come by a gentle foot-path to a sloping bank; she removes the earthern pitcher from the top of her head : she sat wearily on the ground, and welcomed the breezes with an exposed breast, and settled her ruffled hair. While she sits (there), the shady willow-trees and the melodious birds, and the gentle murmur of the water, made her sleepy; sweet slumber stole stealthily over her conquered eyes, and her hand becomes limp and slips from her chin. Mars sees her, and, seeing (her), he desires (her), and, desiring (her), he possesses (her), and he conceals his theft (i.e. his rape) by his divine power. Sleep is no more, and she lies (there) heavily; now, of course, the founder of the city of Rome (i.e. Romulus) was within her womb. Languidly she rises, nor does she know why she is rising (so) languidly, and, leaning against a tree, she utters these words: "I pray that what I saw in the vision of my sleep (i.e. my dream) may be of profit and good luck (to me): or was it too real for a dream? I was in the presence of the flames of Ilium (i.e. the perpetual fire of Vesta, brought from Troy by Aeneas), when the woollen fillet slid from my head and fell down before the sacred hearth. From it, marvellous to behold, two palm-trees spring up together: one of these was the taller, and it covered the whole world with its heavy branches, and touched the highest stars with its crest. Look, my uncle (i.e. Amulius, King of Alba) wields an axe against them: I shudder at the warning, and my heart shakes with fear. A woodpecker, the bird of Mars, and a she-wolf, fight for the twin trunks: through them, both palm-trees were saved." She finished speaking, and lifted the full pitcher with her feeble strength: she was filling (it), while she recounted her vision.

Meanwhile, Remus was growing, Quirinus (i.e. Romulus) was growing, (and) her belly was swelling with its celestial weight. In order that the year should not expire before it had completed its course, two star-signs were now left for the shining god (i.e. ten months had passed): Silvia becomes a mother, the statue of Vesta is said to have covered its eyes with the hands of a virgin. The altar of the goddess certainly shook, when its servant gave birth, and the fearful flame plunged into its own ashes. When Amulius learned of this, (a man who was) scornful of justice - for, (being) victorious over his brother (i.e. Numitor, Rhea Silvia's father), he had seized and was holding power - , he orders that the twins should be drowned in the stream. The stream shrinks from the crime. The boys are left on dry land. Who doesn't know that the infants were fed with the milk of a wild beast, and that a woodpecker often brought food to the foundlings? I should not say nothing about you, Larentia (i.e. the foster-mother of Romulus and Remus), the nurse of so great a nation, nor about your help, impoverished Faustulus (i.e. a poor shepherd and the husband of Larentia): your glory will appear, when I speak of the Larentalia: acceptable to the guardian spirits, December has that (festival). Mars' offspring had reached eighteen years (of age), and fresh beards now sprouted beneath their golden hair: the Ilian brothers (i.e. Romulus and Remus, the sons of Ilia, another name for Rhea Silvia) dispensed justice, when asked, to all the farmers and masters of herds. They often came home revelling in the blood of robbers, and they drive the stolen cattle back to their fields. When they heard of their lineage, (the name of) their reputed father raises their spirits, and they are ashamed to have their fame (confined) to a few cottages, and Amulius is transfixed by Romulus' sword, and the kingdom is restored to their old grandfather (i.e. Numitor). Walls are built, and, although they were small, it would still have been better for Remus not to have jumped them. What had just been woodlands and the haunts of cattle was now a city, when the eternal city's father (i.e. Romulus) says: "Arbiter of arms (i.e. Mars), from whose blood I am believed to be born -  and so that I may be believed I shall give many proofs - , I shall call the beginning of the Roman year after you: the first month will have the name of my father."

His word is kept, and he calls the month by his father's name: such piety is said to have been welcome to the god. And yet our ancestors worshipped Mars above all; a warlike mob had shown this by their zeal. The people of Cecrops (i.e. the Athenians) worship Pallas, Minoan Crete Diana, the land of Hypsipyle (i.e. Lemnos) Vulcan, Sparta and Pelops' Mycenae Juno, and the country of Maenalus (i.e. Arcadia) the pine-clad head of Faunus: Mars was venerated in Latium because he directs arms; arms gave a feral race wealth and glory.

c. The position of the month (vv. 87-166).

If you happen to have the time for it, examine some foreign calendars: in them there will also be a month with the name of Mars: it was the third (month) in the Alban (calendar), and the fifth in the Faliscan (one), and among your people, (O) land of the Hernici, (it was) the sixth; Alban time is established among the Aricians, and (in) the lofty city built by the hand of Telegonus (i.e. Tusculum); the Laurentines have this (month as) the fifth, a tough Aequian (as) the tenth, and the mob in Cures (as) the first after three months (i.e. the fourth month); and, (in your case,) (O) Paelignian soldier, its position complies with your forebears: for both of these peoples the god (i.e. Mars) (has) the fourth (month). To surpass all of these, in (number) order at least, Romulus gave the first month to the progenitor of his blood-line.

The ancients did not have as many Kalends as (we have) now: their year was shorter (than ours) by two months. Greece had not yet handed its vanquished arts over to her conquerors, (and) her people (were) eloquent but not strong: (he) who fought well knew the arts of Rome; (he) who could dispatch javelins was eloquent. Who then knew of the Hyades or the Atlantean (i.e. daughters of Atlas) Pleiades, or that there were two poles beneath the sky, (and) that there were two Bears, of which Cynosura (i.e. 'Dog Tail', another name for Ursa Minor), is sought by the Sidonians, and a Greek ship observes Helice (i.e. ' a revolver around the pole', or Ursa Major), and that those star-signs (i.e. the signs of the zodiac), which the brother (i.e. Apollo, in his capacity as the Sun) travels past in a full year, his sister's horses (i.e. the horses of Diana in her capacity as the Moon) go past in a single month? The stars traversed (the heavens) throughout the year freely and unobserved; but yet it was agreed (by all) that they were gods. They could not grasp the gliding standards of heaven, but (only) their own, which it was a great crime to lose. Indeed, these (were made) of hay; but there was as much respect for hay as you now see your (i.e. Germanicus') eagles enjoy. A long pole carried the hanging bundles, from which the soldier takes the name of private. So, with their untaught minds and still lacking in (astronomical) knowledge, they calculated lustra (i.e. five year periods) that were short of ten months. A year was when the moon had completed its tenth orbit (i.e. it achieved its tenth full moon): that number was (held) in great honour, either because (it is) with so many fingers that we usually count, or because a woman gives birth in the tenth month, or because our numbers go climbing up to ten, (and) then it is understood that (there is) the beginning of a new interval of time (i.e. a new decade). At that time, Romulus divided the hundred fathers (i.e. senators) into ten groups, and instituted ten (companies of) spearmen (i.e. men of the front rank), and as many of the middle rank and of the third rank, and of those who had earned a state-sponsored horse (i.e. the three hundred 'equites', or knights, attached to each legion were divided into ten troops or 'turmae'). Indeed, he also bestowed the same number of divisions on the Titienses, and on those whom they call the Ramnes, and on the Luceres (i.e. the three ancient tribes of the Romans, each one of which was divided by Romulus into ten 'curiae' or wards, thus creating thirty in all). So, he reserved the usual number in relation to the year (i.e. ten months). (It is) for this period of time (that) the grieving widow mourns her husband.

Lest you should doubt that the Kalends of March once came first, you can refer your mind to the star-signs. The Flamines' laurel-wreath that has remained (in place) all year is (now) removed, and fresh foliage is (put) in (the place of) honour; then, the king's door (i.e. that of the Rex Sacrorum) is verdant with the bough of Phoebus (that has been) placed (on it); before your doors, the same happens (too), Ancient Wards (i.e. the name given to a shrine in the Forum in which priests known as the 'Flamines Curiales' officiated), The withered laurel-wreath also departs from the Ilian hearth (i.e. the hearth in the temple of Vesta where the fire brought from Troy by Aeneas still burned). Add that a new fire is lit at her secret shrine, and, it is said, the rekindled flame acquires strength. And to me (it is) no small proof that previous years began at this time that (it was) in this month (that) Anna Perenna (i.e. the sister of Dido, queen of Carthage) began to be worshipped. At this time, also, the ancients are said to have entered their public offices, until the time of your war, (you) perfidious Carthaginian (i.e. Hannibal). Lastly, Quintilis was the fifth (month) from it (i.e. March), and from then begins (the time when) each (month) takes its name from a number.

Pompilius (i.e. Numa, the second king of Rome), escorted to Rome from his olive-bearing fields, was the first (man) to feel that two months were missing, and he had learned this, either from the Samian (i.e. Pythagoras), who thinks that we can be reborn, or on the advice of his own Egeria (i.e. the Italian nymph who was his wife). But, even then, time still continued to be in error until this too became a concern, among many (others), of Caesar (i.e. Julius Caesar). That god, the source of so great a progeny, did not consider that these (matters) were beneath his duties, and he wished to have prescience of the heaven (that had been) promised to him, and not to enter unknown homes (as) a stranger god. He is recorded to have set down in exact notation the periods of time in which the sun returns to its own star-signs (i.e. the signs of the zodiac); he added sixty to three hundred and five days, and the fifth part of a full day. This is the measure (i.e. the length) of a year: one day, which is composed of these fractions, needs to be added to (each) lustrum).

March 1: Kalends: Matronalia: Nefastus Publicus (ll. 167-398).

(The Matronalia, held on New Year's Day, was sacred to Juno Lucina, who presided over women and childbirth in particular. When engaged in her worship, women had to unbind their hair and have nothing knotted on their person, to symbolise nothing hindering safe childbirth. It was a day of renewal, as the sacred fire of Vesta was tended by the Vestal Virgins. On the Matronalia it was customary for husbands to pray for the good health and well-being of their wives. It was a day of great celebration and revelry, when gifts were exchanged between friends and family members, and in a female version of the Saturnalia Roman matrons prepared meals for their slaves. It was a day of feasting, gambling, and music with much dancing in the streets.) 

"If bards are permitted to hear the gods' secret advice, as rumour clearly thinks they are permitted, tell me, Gradivus (i.e. Mars, in his capacity as the Marching God), why women celebrate your festivals, since you are equipped (to perform) male duties." So I (asked). Removing his helmet, Mavors (i.e. Mars) addressed me thus - but there was still a spear in his right(-hand) ready to be hurled - : "Now, for the first time, am I, a god fit for war, being invoked in the pursuit of peace, and I bring my steps into a new camp. Nor do I dislike this undertaking: I also enjoy being detained in this function, lest Minerva should think that she alone can (do) it. Learn what you seek, industrious poet about the Latin days (in question), and stamp my words in your mindful heart.

"Rome was small, if you wish to trace its beginnings, but still in that smallness there was the hope of (all) this. Its walls were already standing, too cramped for its future population, but then thought too spacious for its populace. If you ask what was my son's palace, examine that house (made) of reed and straw (n.b. the straw-roofed cottage, said to have been the abode of Romulus, was still standing on the Palatine in Ovid's time). He snatched the gift of peaceful sleep on reeds, and yet from that bed he reached the stars. The Roman already had a name greater than his site, but he had no wife nor any father-in-law. The wealthy neighbourhood spurned impoverished sons-in-law, and I (i.e. Mars) was not thought to be the progenitor of the blood-line. It marred (their reputation) that they lived in cattle-sheds and grazed sheep, and that they owned (but) a few acres of uncultivated soil. Every bird and wild beast copulates with its partner, and (even) a snake has another, from which it may breed. The rights of marriage are bestowed upon distant peoples: but there was no (woman) who would marry a Roman. I was grieved, and gave you, Romulus, your father's spirit. 'Away with entreaties,' I said. 'Arms will give (you) what you seek.'                             

"He (i.e. Romulus) prepares a feast for Consus (i.e. the god of stored grain). Consus will tell you the rest of (the things that) happened on that day, while he sings his sacred rites (i.e. the 'Consualia' of August 21; this was the festival to which the Sabines were invited by Romulus, and at which their women were abducted). Cures (i.e. the Sabines' capital town) swelled with rage, and (so did the others) whom the same pain had struck (i.e. these were the Caeninenses, the Crustumini, and the Antemnates, according to Livy): then did a father-in-law first bear arms against his son-in-law. Now, too, the recently ravished (women) had the name of mothers, and the war between their kinsfolk had been dragged out for a long period of time: the wives came together in Juno's appointed shrine (i.e. on the Esquiline Hill), and among them my daughter-in-law (i.e. Hersilia) ventured to speak these words: "O fellow rape victims, for this we have in common, we can no longer be tardy in our dutifulness. The battle-lines are in position: but you must choose on behalf of which of the two sides (the help of) the gods is to be sought; on this side your father, on that side your husband, bears arms. The question to be asked is (whether) you choose to be a widow or an orphan. I shall give you bold and dutiful advice." She gave her advice: they obey, and loosen their hair, and cover their mournful bodies in funeral dress. Now the battle-lines stood with their swords (drawn) and ready for death, now the trumpet was about to give the signal for battle, when the ravished (women) come between their fathers and their husbands, and hold their sons, the dear pledges (of their love), to their breasts. When, with their hair dishevelled, they reached the middle of the field, they fell forward on to the ground on bended knee; and the grandsons, as if they understood, stretched out their tiny arms to their grandfathers. (He,) who could (speak), called out to his grandfather, then seen for the first time, and (he,) who could scarcely (speak), was encouraged to try. Weapons and passions fall from the men, and, discarding their swords, fathers-in-law give their hands to their sons-in-law, and receive (them in return), and they praise and embrace their daughters, and a grandfather carries his grandson on his shield: this was a sweeter use for a shield.

"So, Oebalian (i.e. Sabine; the Sabines claimed to be descended from Oebalus, an early Spartan king) mothers acquire the duty, no light (one), of celebrating my Kalends, which (is) the first (day of the month); either because they had ended the wars of Mars with their tears, by boldly confronting those drawn swords, or because Ilia (i.e. Rhea Silvia) happily became a mother through me, mothers duly observe my sacred rites on my day. Why, (it is also) because winter, having been veiled by frost, now finally retreats, and the snows dissolve, melted by the warming sun; leaves, stripped off by the cold, (now) return to the trees, and the moist bud swells on the tender shoot; and does the fertile grass, which has long been concealed, now find hidden paths by which to lift itself into the air? Now is the field fertile, now (is) the season for the herd to be breeding, now a bird is preparing house and home (i.e. its nest) on the bough. Latin mothers, for whom childbirth involves (both) service and prayer, rightly honour the fruitful season. Add that where the Roman king kept watch (on) the hill which now has the name of the Esquiline, a public temple was founded there, if I remember (aright), on this day by Latin women in honour of Juno. Why do I linger and burden your mind with (all) these various reasons? Behold (the answer) that you seek stands out before your eyes: my mother's crowd celebrates my (festivities). Such a dutiful reason (as) this suits us especially."

Bring flowers for the goddess: this goddess delights in blooming plants; wreathe your heads with delicate flowers: say, "You have given us the light, Lucina"; say, "Be you present for the prayer of child-birth." But, if any (woman) is pregnant, let her loosen her hair and pray that the (goddess) may facilitate her gentle delivery. Now, who will tell me why the Salii (i.e. a college of dancing priests dedicated by Numa to the service of Mars) bear Mars' celestial arms, and sing of Mamurius (i.e. a celebrated metal-worker at the time of Numa)? Advise (me), nymph, who serves Diana's grove and pool; come, nymph, wife of Numa (i.e. Egeria, who, overcome with grief on her husband's death, fled from Rome and fled to Diana's grove near Aricia), (tell me) of your deeds. There is a lake in the valley of Aricia (i.e. an ancient  town in Latium near Alba Longa), encircled by dark woods (and) hallowed by an ancient cult; here hides Hippolytus, (who was) torn to pieces by his horses' reins (i.e. the son of Theseus, who after his death was restored to life by Aesculapius and hidden by Diana in her sacred grove at Nemi near Aricia), and, for this reason, no horses may enter this grove. Threads of cloth hang down from the long hedge-rows, and many votive-tablets are placed (on them) in honour of the goddess. Often, a woman whose prayer has been successful, her forehead crowned with garlands, carries lighted torches from the City. Runaways hold the kingdom, strong in their hands and feet, and each (one) (i.e. the Rex Nemorensis, a runaway slave who had slain his predecessor in office) perishes soon afterwards by his own example. A stream full of pebbles flows along with fitful murmurs: I have drunk there often, but (only) in small draughts. Egeria, who is a goddess dear to the Camenae (i.e. the Muses), supplies the water: she was Numa's wife and counsel. At first, the Quirites (i.e. the Romans) (were) too ready (to go) to war, but he resolved to tame (them) with law and fear of the gods. So, laws (were) made, so that the stronger could not take everything, and the sacred rites begun to be observed exactly (as they had been) handed down. Barbarity is set aside, and justice is more powerful than arms, and it becomes shameful to engage in close combat with a (fellow) citizen; and anyone, (who was) recently a savage, is now changed on seeing an altar, and it offers wine and salted corn-meal on its warm hearth. 

Look, the father of the gods spreads red flames through the clouds, and drains the heavens of its pouring rain. At no other time have thunderbolts (ever) fallen more frequently: and the king (i.e. Numa) quakes and terror takes hold of the hearts of the mob. The goddess (i.e. Egeria) says to them, "Don't be so afraid! Lightning can be averted, and the wrath of raging Jupiter can be turned aside. Picus (i.e. son of Saturn and ancient king of Latium) and Faunus (son of Picus, and the god of forests and herdsmen, identified with the Greek god Pan) can divulge the rites of appeasement, both (of them being) a deity of the Roman soil (i.e rustic Italian deities). But they won't won't speak of it without compulsion: (so) put chains (on them) once you have captured (them);" and so she reveals by what artifice they can be caught. A grove lay beneath the Aventine (i.e. one of the seven hills of Rome), black with the shade of holm-oak, at the sight of which you would say, "There is a god within." There (was) grass in its centre, and a course of ever-flowing water, encased in green moss, trickled from the rock. Faunus and Picus used to drink there almost alone; King Numa comes here and sacrifices a sheep. And he sets out cups full of fragrant wine, and he hides himself and his (men) deep in a cave. The woodland deities come to their accustomed spring and relieve their dry throats with copious wine. Sleep follows the wine: Numa emerges from the chilly cave, and fastens tight bonds on to the hands of the sleepers. When sleep had departed, they try to break their bonds by violent efforts, (but) they grip (them) the more strongly as they struggle. Then (said) Numa: "Gods of the groves, if you realise that any mischief is far from my mind, (please) do forgive my actions, and show (me) how the lightning can be averted." Thus (spoke) Numa; shaking his horns, Faunus replies as follows: "You seek great (things), which it is not for you to know through my guidance; our powers have their limits. We are rustic gods, and (gods) who rule in the high mountains; but Jupiter is in control of his own weapons. You cannot draw him from the heavens by yourself, but perhaps you can if you make use of our help." Faunus spoke these (words); Picus has the same opinion. "But take these shackles off us," Picus adds; "Jupiter will come here, induced by a powerful trick: the foggy Styx (i.e. the principal river in the Underworld was supposed to exhale a dense vapour) will be witness to my promise." What they do, when released from their snare, what spells they chant, and by what device they draw Jupiter from his celestial abode, (it is) a sin for a man to know. Permitted (songs) will be sung by us, such as may be uttered from the pious lips of a poet.  They call you down from the sky, Jupiter; for this reason our descendants now also worship you, and they call (you) 'Elicius' (i.e. the 'Elicited One'). It is agreed that the treetops of the Aventine forest trembled, and the earth sank down, depressed by the weight of Jupiter; the King's heart shakes, and the blood drained from the whole of his body, and his shaggy hair stood on end. When his senses returned, he said, "King and father of the high gods, if I have taken hold of my offerings to you with pure hands, (and,) if a pious tongue also asks for what is being sought, do grant (us) a sure relief from your thunderbolt." (The god) assented to his prayer, but hid the truth with obscure circumlocution, and scared the man with confusing speech. "Cut off a head," he said; the King said to him, "I shall obey;" an onion dug from my garden garden shall be cut." The (god) added, "A man's"; the (king) says, "You will have the hair." (The god) demands a life; to him Numa replies, "A fish's." He laughed and said, "Do (it), you may expiate my weapons with these, O man not to be stopped from conversing with the gods. But when Cynthius (i.e. Apollo, who, together with his sister Diana, was born on the Cynthus, a hill in Delos) extends his full orbit tomorrow, I shall give you sure tokens of empire." He spoke, and flies up to the sky (which is) disturbed by loud thunder, and he leaves behind (him) the adoring Numa.

The (King) returns full of joy, and tells the Quirites (what had) happened: their belief in his words comes slowly and with difficulty. "But I will surely be believed," he says, "if actions follow my words: (now) look, all of you that are present, (and) attend to tomorrow's (events). When Cynthius extends his full orbit over the earth, Jupiter will give (me) sure tokens of empire." They depart in doubt,  and his promises seem distant, and their belief is dependent on the coming day. The ground was soft at dawn with a dewy frost: the people are present in front of their king's threshold. He comes out and sat among (them) on a maple throne; countless men stand around (him) in silence. Phoebus had only just risen above the horizon: their anxious hearts quake in hope and fear. (The King) stood, and, with his head covered with a snow-white cloth, he raised his hands, now (so) well known to the gods, and thus he speaks: "The time has come for the promised gifts." While he speaks, the sun had already reached his zenith, and a heavy crash came from heaven's vault. Three times the god thundered without any cloud (in the sky), three times he hurled his lightning. Believe what I am saying: I speak of marvels, but (they did) happen: the sky began to gape open from its central region: the crowd and its leader raised their eyes. Behold, a shield tumbles down, spinning gently in the light breeze: the roar from the people reaches the stars. The (King) lifts up the gift from the ground, after first sacrificing a heifer whose neck had never received the pressure of a yoke. He calls it an 'ancile', because it is cut away on every side, and every angle, by which you can mark (it) is absent (i.e. it was oval in shape). Then, remembering that the empire's fate depended on it, he adopts a plan of great shrewdness: he orders more (shields), carved in the same shape, to be made, so that confusion may pass before the eyes of a traitor. Mamurius - (whether he was) more exacting in his skill as a craftsman or in his character, it is difficult to say - finished the work. The munificent Numa said to him, "Ask for a reward for your work: if my assurance is recognised, you will be refused nothing." He had already given the Salii a name derived from their leaping, as well as weapons, and words to be sung to certain tunes (n.b. the Salian priests, clad in bronze armour, and striking their shields with their daggers, traversed the City dancing to the sound of pipes, and singing songs ascribed to Numa); then, Mamurius (replied) thus: "May I receive glory (as) my reward, and may they sound my name at the end of their song." So, the priests pay (him) the reward promised for his renowned work, and shout out "Mamurius!"

If anyone of you wishes to marry, even if both of you are in a hurry (to do so), delay (it) (n.b. it was considered to be unlucky to marry on the Kalends of March, as the 'ancilia' were carried on that day); little delays have great advantages. Weapons cause fights, (and) fighting is unsuited to married (couples); the omens will be better when (the weapons) have been laid up (in the temple). On these days, too, the girded wife of the peak-capped (Flamen) Dialis (i.e. the High Priest of Jupiter) needs to keep her hair unkempt (n.b. the Flamen Dialis always wore a white peaked cap, called an 'apex', when he went out; his wife, the Flaminica, wore a purple-coloured robe).    

March 3: Comitialis (ll. 399-402).

When the third night of the month has set its rising (stars) in motion, one of the two Pisces (i.e. Fishes) will have dropped out of sight. For there are two (of them): one is a neighbour of the South Wind, (and) the other of the North Wind, each one takes its name from its wind.

March 5: Comitialis (ll. 403-414).

When Tithonus' wife (i.e. Aurora, the Dawn) begins to shed dew from her saffron cheeks (n.b. the dew was said to be Aurora's tears for her son Memnon, killed by Achilles), and arranges the start of the fifth day. Whether the (star-sign) is (called) Arctophylax (i.e. the Bear-Keeper) or dull Boötes (i.e. the Ox-Herder), it will sink and escape your sight. But the Vindemitor (i.e. the Grape-Gatherer or Vintager) will not escape (it): the star-sign, (i.e. the constellation Virgo) from which it takes its origin, it also requires (but) a small space of time to teach. Bacchus is said to have loved the unshaven (i.e. beardless) Ampelos, the son of a satyr and a nymph, on the heights of Ismarus (i.e. a mountain and a region in Thrace renowned for its wines). He entrusted him with a vine, hanging down from the leaves of an elm-tree, and it takes its name from the name of the boy. While he was rashly picking the gaudy grapes on a bough, he falls: Liber (i.e. Bacchus) carried the lost (boy) to the stars.

March 6: Nefastus Publicus (ll. 415-428).

When Phoebus (i.e. in his capacity as the sun) climbs hilly Olympus from the ocean, and makes his way through the sky on winged horses, all you who come to worship at the sanctuary of chaste Vesta (i.e. the Vestal Virgins) rejoice and place incense on Ilian (i.e. Trojan) hearths. To Caesar's (i.e. Augustus') countless titles, which he had chosen to acquire, the office of high priest was added (i.e. on the death of Lepidus in 12 B.C.). Eternal Caesar's divine status protects the eternal fire: you can see the pledges of empire joined (i.e. the person of Augustus is added to the Eternal Fire and the Palladium). Gods of ancient Troy, your bearers' most worthy prize, through which Aeneas, (though) laden with burdens, was (kept) safe from the foe, a priest descended from Aeneas, (now) associates with kindred gods; guard the life of your kinsman, Vesta (n.b. she was related to Augustus through her father Cronos, who was also the grandfather of Aeneas' mother, Venus)! Burn on well, (you) fires, which he tends with his sacred hand. Live on imperishable, I pray, both (you) flames and (you) our leader.  

March 7: Nones: Fastus (ll. 429-458).

There is one mark (in the 'Fasti') for the Nones of March, because they think that the shrine of Vedjovis was dedicated  before the two groves on that day. When Romulus enclosed his grove with a high stone (wall), he said, "Take refuge here, whoever you are; you will be safe." O from what a lean beginning did the Roman grow! How unenviable was (the position of) that ancient band! But, lest, in your ignorance, the strangeness of the name should baffle you, learn who that god (is) and why he is so called. He is the young Jupiter: see his youthful face; then, see his hand: he holds no thunderbolt. Jupiter took up his thunderbolt after the Giants dared to aspire to the heavens: initially, he was unarmed. Ossa and Pelion, higher than Ossa, blazed with fresh fires, and Olympus (was) rooted in the solid earth. A she-goat stands with (there) too at the same time: they say that Cretan nymphs tended the infant Jupiter, and that the (she-goat) gave (him) her milk. Now I am called to (explain) the name (i.e. that of Vedjovis): farmers call grain which has scarcely grown 'vegrandia' (i.e. small) and (that which is) stunted 'vesca' (i.e. feeble); if that is the meaning of the word, why should I not suppose that the shrine of Vedjovis is the shrine of the little Jupiter? Now when the stars cause the azure sky to alternate in appearance, look up: you will see the neck of the Gorgon's horse (i.e. Pegasus). He is thought to have sprung from the pregnant neck of the slaughtered Medusa (i.e. when she was slain by Perseus), his mane drenched in her blood. For him, as he slid above the clouds and beneath the stars, the sky took the place of the earth and his wings (took) the place of his feet. And he had just taken the fresh bit back into his indignant mouth, when his light hoof dug the Aonian spring (i.e. the sacred fountain of Hippocrene on Mount Helicon in Boeotia, haunt of the Muses).

March 8: Fastus (ll. 459-516).

As night falls, you will see right away the Crown (i.e. the constellation Corona Borealis) of the girl from Cnossos (i.e. Ariadne): through Theseus' crime, she had been made a goddess. She had already happily exchanged her perjured spouse for Bacchus, (she) who once gave that ungrateful man the thread to be unravelled; rejoicing at her marital fate, she said, "Why did I sob (like) a country-girl? That treachery of his has brought me gain." Meanwhile, Liber had conquered the Indians with their neatly combed hair, and had returned with his riches from the world of the East. Among the captive girls of outstanding beauty, there was the daughter of a king (who was) too pleasing to Bacchus. His loving wife wept, and, as she trod the curving shoreline, she spoke these words with dishevelled hair: "Behold once more, (you) waves, (and) hear the same complaints! Behold once more (you) sand, (and) receive my tears. I used to say, I recall, '(You) perjured and perfidious Theseus!' He abandoned (me); (now) Bacchus incurs the same charge. Now I will also cry, 'No woman should trust a man'; my case is repeated, (only) the name has changed. O, if only my life had ended as it had first begun, and then I should not be alive at the present moment. Why did you save me, Liber, as I was about to die on those lonely sands? I could have stopped grieving once and for all. Fickle Bacchus, more fickle than the leaves which adorn your temples, Bacchus known for my tears, have you dared to parade your concubine before my eyes, and disturb such a well ordered (marriage-)bed? Alas, where (is) the covenant (you) agreed? Where (are the oaths) that you once swore? (O) wretch (that) I (am), how often must I say these words? You, yourself, used to blame Theseus and call (him) false: by your own judgment, you, yourself, are sinning (even) worse. Let no one know about this, and let me burn in silent pain, lest I should be thought worthy to have been deceived so often. Above all, I wish Theseus to be kept unaware (of it), lest he should rejoice that you are a partner in his guilt. But, I suppose, a white concubine is preferred to my dark (hue)! May that colour be the lot of my enemies! But what does that mean? Is she dearer to you for that defect? What are you doing? She defiles your embrace. Bacchus, keep your faith, and do not prefer another to the love of your wife: I am the sort to love my husband forever. The horns of a handsome bull captivated my mother (i.e. Pasiphaë), (and) yours me; but my love is praiseworthy, hers (was) shameful. May I not be harmed because I love (you): for you, Bacchus, were not harmed, because you, yourself, confessed your passion for me. Nor are you performing a miracle because you make me burn: you are said to have been born in fire, and (to have been) snatched from the flames by the hand of your father (i.e. Jupiter, who snatched his foetus from the body of his mother Semele, after she had been consumed with fire). I am she, to whom you used to promise heaven. Ah me, what gifts do I endure in place of heaven!" She finished speaking; Liber had been listening to her words of complaint for a long time, as he had been following closely behind (her). He seizes (her) in his embrace, and dries her tears by his kisses, and he says: "Let us seek the heights of heaven together: as you have shared my bed, (so) you will take a name (that is) shared with me, for your name will be Libera, (when you are) transformed; for there shall be a monument (which) I shall make of you and your crown, which Vulcan gave to Venus, (and) she (gave) to you." He does as he says, and transforms the nine gems into fires: now the golden (crown) glitters with the nine stars.

March 14: Equirria: Nefastus Publicus (ll. 517-522).

(The Equirria was a festival of horse-racing dedicated to Mars, god of war and agriculture, established by Romulus himself in the early days of Rome. It was held in the Campus Martius, but if that should be flooded, it was held in the Campus Martialis on the Caelian Hill.)

When (he) who brings the bright day in his swift chariot, has completed his cycle six times, and has sunk just as often, you will watch another Horse-Racing Festival on the grassy Field, that the Tiber hems in at its borders with its winding waters; but if, by chance, it is flooded by overflowing waves, the dust-covered Caelian ( i.e. a hill to the south-east of the Palatine) will take the horses.

March 15: Ides: Festival of Anna Perenna: Nefastus Publicus (ll. 523-710).
  
(This day was sacred to Anna Perenna, the sister of Dido, and the personification of the succession of the years. So, represented as an old woman, her worship was celebrated by both men and women who engaged in much revelry and dancing, and they drank as many cups of wine as the number of years they hoped to live. Public prayers and sacrifice were also offered to ensure a prosperous year to come. It was an uninhibited day of frolic for most people.) 

The happy festival of Anna Perenna is (held) on the Ides, not far from your banks, (you) alien Tiber (i.e. its source was some distance  from Rome, near Arretium in north-east Etruria). The common people come and drink, (while) scattered in all directions over the green grass, and every man reclines (there) with his partner. Some rough (it) under Jupiter's sky, a few pitch tents, (and) there are (some) by whom leafy huts are made out of branches; others, when they have erected reed-stalks as rigid columns, lay their outstretched togas on top (of them). Still, they are warm with the sun and the wine, and they pray for as many years as the number of ladles they take up and drink. There you will come across (a man) who drinks the years of Nestor, (and a woman) who would become (like) Sibyl through her cups. And there they sing whatever they've learned in the theatres, and they wave ready hands in time with their lyrics, and, laying down the wine-bowl (in honour of the goddess), they perform primitive jigs, and the refined girl dances around with her hair streaming. When they return (home), they are staggering, and they are a spectacle for vulgar (eyes), and the crowd that meets (them) calls (them) lucky. A procession met (me) just now - it seems to me worth telling ; a tipsy old woman was pulling along a tipsy old man.

But, since who this goddess is is obscured by rumours, (it is) not my intention to conceal any (part) of her story. The wretched Dido had burned with passion for Aeneas, and she had burned on a pyre built for her funeral; her ashes (were) gathered, and this brief verse, which she herself left behind (her) as she was dying, was (inscribed) on the marble of her tomb: "Aeneas furnished both the cause of her death and the sword. Dido, herself, fell by the use of her own hand." At once, the Numidians invade the defenceless realm, and the Moor Iarbas takes possession of the captured palace; remembering that he (had been) scorned, he says, "See, I, whom she so often rejected, am now enjoying Elissa's (i.e. Dido's) marriage-bed."  The Tyrians scatter whence uncertainty drives each one, as bees sometimes wander irresolutely when they have lost their king (n.b. the ancients thought that bees had kings, not queens). For a third time, the threshing-floor had received a harvest (waiting) to be stripped, and a third vintage had reached the hollow vats. Anna is driven from her home, and she leaves her sister's walls sobbing, after she gives her sister her (final) obsequies. The delicate ashes drink perfume mixted with tears and receive locks of hair taken from her head, and three times she said, "Farewell!" (and) three times she lifted up the ashes and pressed (them) to her lips, and her sister seemed to be (there) behind them. Finding a ship and some companions for her exile, she slips away speedily, (while) looking back at the walls, the dear work of her sister.

Near to barren Cosyra (i.e. Gozo) is the fertile isle of Melita (i.e. Malta), which the waves of the Libyan sea are (always) lashing. Trusting in the King's former hospitality, she makes for that (island): Battus was the King there, a host rich in property. When he learned of the fate of both sisters, he declares, "This (bit of) land, however small (it is), is yours." And, indeed, he would have fully observed the duties of a host, but he feared the mighty power of Pygmalion (i.e. Anna's brother, the king of Tyre). The sun had twice reviewed its star-signs (i.e. the signs of the zodiac), and a third year had arrived, and a new place of exile had to be found. Her brother comes and looks for war. Hating weapons, the King says. "We are non-combatants; flee for your own safety!" At his command, she flees, and entrusts her ship to the wind and the waves: her brother was more cruel than any sea. There is a little (piece of) land near the fish-filled streams of the stony Crathis (i.e. a river in Magna Graecia near Thurii): the local people call (it) Camere; thither was her course. (When) she was no further away from there than the distance which nine slingshots can reach, the sails slacken for the first time and they are held in equilibrium (i.e. they are pushed backwards and forwards) by a fitful breeze. "Slice the waters with the oars, "says the helmsman; and, while they prepare to draw up the sails with winding ropes, the curved stern is shaken by a blast of the South Wind, and, while the captain battles in vain, it is hoisted into the open sea, and the sight of land disappears from view. The waves leapt up, and the sea is churned from its deepest abyss, and the hold is engulfed with foaming white water. Skill is overcome by the wind, and the helmsman no longer controls the rudder, but he too looks for help through prayers. The Phoenician exile (i.e. Anna's original home was Tyre) is tossed by the swelling waves, and she covers her moist eyes with her exposed dress. Then, for the first time, Dido, and any other (woman) whose body pressed the earth, was called fortunate by her sister. The ship is guided by an enormous blast (of wind) to the Laurentine shore (i.e. near the Italian city of Laurentum where Aeneas had also landed), and, when all had disembarked, it foundered as a wreck.

Pious Aeneas was now blessed with Latinus' kingdom and this daughter (i.e. Lavinia) (too), and had fused the two peoples together (i.e. he had joined the Trojans and the Italian Aborigines into the Latin nation). While he traverses a secret path on his dowry-shore, accompanied only by Achates, he sees (her) as she is wandering about, but is not able to believe that it is Anna: why should she have come to the fields of Latium? While Aeneas was pondering (this), Achates exclaims, "It's Anna!" At (the sound of) her name, she raised her face. Alas, what should she do? Should she run? What hole in the ground should she seek? The fate of her poor sister was before her eyes. The Cytherean hero (i.e. Aeneas, whose mother Venus was allegedly born on the isle of Cythera) sensed her anxiety and spoke to (her) - yet he weeps, disturbed by your memory, Elissa: "I swear by that land that you once used to hear had been granted (to me) by a happier fate, and by my divine companions (i.e. the Penates which he had brought with him from Troy), who have recently settled in this place, that they frequently rebuked (me for) my delay (i.e. while he was Dido's consort in Carthage). Yet, I did not fear for her death: such fear was absent. Ah me, she was braver than I could have believed. Do not retell (it)! I saw those unjust wounds on her body, when I ventured to enter the dwellings of Tartarus (i.e. the Underworld). But you, whether some purpose or some god has driven you to our shores, do enjoy the comforts of my realm. (For we are) mindful of (how) much (we owe) you, (and) we (certainly) owe Elissa something (too). You will be welcome in your own name, and in your sister's (too)." She believed what he said - for no other hope is left - and she told the story of her wanderings; and, when she entered his palace, dressed in Tyrian attire, Aeneas begins (to speak) - the rest of the throng is silent: "Lavinia, my wife, I have a very good reason for entrusting this (lady) to you: (for when I was) shipwrecked, I consumed her wealth. She was born in Tyre, (and) had a kingdom on the shores of Libya: and I beg (you) to love her like a dear sister." Lavinia promises everything, and nurses a false wound within her silent heart, and conceals her fears. And, though she sees many gifts being given before her eyes, yet she suspects that many are also being sent in secret. She has no clear (plan) what to do: she hates with a fury, and prepares traps (for her) and wishes to die, having been avenged. It was night: Dido seemed to be standing before her sister's bed, and to be saying, "Flee, do not hesitate, flee from this dismal house"; as she spoke, (a gust of) wind slammed shut the creaking doors. She (i.e. Anna)  leaps up, and speedily jumps through a low window to the ground - fear, itself, has made (her) bold. And, when she is seized with fear, and, wrapped in a loose vest, she runs like a frightened doe that has heard the wolves, horned Numicius (i.e. the god of a stream in Latium) is thought to have raped her in his lustful waters, and to have hidden (her) in his pool. Meanwhile, the Sidonian (woman) (i.e. Sidon was the other great city of Phoenicia) is sought across the fields with loud shouting: marks and footprints are visible; they came to the (river-)banks: her tracks are (there) on the banks; the stream consciously kept its waters silent. She, herself, appeared and said, "I am the nymph of calm Numicius: lying hidden in this perennial (i.e. constant) stream, I am called Anna Perenna." Joyful at once, they feast in the fields (they have) roamed, and they celebrate both themselves and the day with abundant wine.

There are (those) for whom she is the Moon, because she makes the year full with months; some think she is Themis, others Inachus' cow (i.e. Io, often assimilated to the Egyptian goddess, Isis). You will find (some) who claim that that you (are) the nymph Azanis, and that you, Anna, gave Jupiter his first food (i.e. Azanis is reputed to have nourished Jupiter after he had been born on the Arcadian Mount Lycaeus). This tale, which I shall recount, has also come to my ears, and it is not too far from (being) a true story. The plebeians of old, at that time not yet (being) protected by tribunes, fled and had (gathered) on top of the Sacred Mount (n.b. in 494 B.C. the plebeians withdrew en masse on to Mons Sacer as a protest against the exclusive powers of the patricians). The food supplies, which they had brought with them, and any bread fit for human consumption, had failed them. There was a certain Anna, who was born in suburban Bovillae, an old woman, (who was) poor but very industrious. With her grey hair bound up in a light cap, she made rough cakes with a trembling hand, and every morning she used to share (them) out among the people; this largesse of hers was (most) welcome to the people. When domestic peace was achieved, they set up a statue to Perenna, because she had brought them succour in their (hour of) need.

Now it remains for me to say why girls should chant obscenities; for they gather and sing (songs that are most) certainly coarse. She had just been made a goddess: Gradivus (i.e. Mars) comes to Anna, and, having taken (her) aside, he says the following words (to her): "You will be worshipped in my month; (and) I have combined my season with yours; a great hope of mine depends on your services. I, a warrior, am seized with love for the warrior Minerva and I burn (with passion), and I have been nursing this wound for a long time. Arrange that we, gods with similar functions, should unite as one: this task suits you well, (you) gracious old lady." He finished speaking; she tricks the god with empty promises, and continually prolongs his foolish hope with dubious delays. After constant pressure, she says, "I have done your bidding. She has been won over: after some difficulty, she has yielded to your prayers." The lover believes (her), and prepares the bed-chamber. Anna is led there, veiling her face like a new bride. As he is about to kiss (her), Mars suddenly sees (it is) Anna: now shame, now anger, comes over the deluded god. The new goddess laughs at dear Minerva's lover, and nothing has (ever) been more pleasing to Venus than this. And so, old jokes and coarse words are chanted, and there is delight that she has deceived the great god.

I (i.e. the poet, Ovid) was about to pass by those daggers (that had been stuck) in our leader (i.e. Julius Caesar who was assassinated on the Ides of March 44 B.C.), when Vesta thus spoke (to me) from her pure hearth: "Do not hesitate to remember: that (man) was my priest; those profane hands attacked me with their weapons. I snatched the man away and left a bare likeness behind (him): what died by the sword was Caesar's shadow." He, indeed, having been installed in heaven, has seen Jupiter's courtyard, and occupies a temple (which has been) consecrated in the great Forum (n.b. this occurred in 41 B.C); but those who dared the unspeakable crime in defiance of the will of the gods and defiled his priestly head (now) lie in the death they deserve - Philippi (i.e. the battle of Philippi of 42 B.C., in which Mark Antony and Octavian [later Augustus] defeated Brutus and Cassius), and (those) whose scattered bones whiten the ground, be witness (to this)! The task, the duty, the first requirements laid upon Caesar (i.e. Augustus) have been to avenge his father by the just (use of) arms.

March 16: Fastus (ll. 711-712).

When the following dawn has refreshed the tender grass, the first stars of the Scorpion will be visible.

March 17: Liberalia: Agonalia: Nefastus Publicus (ll. 713-808).

(On this day were celebrated the rites of Liber Pater, an old Italian god of fertility and wine. Also known as Bacchus, he is associated with the Greek god Dionysus. Old women, acting as priestesses of Liber Pater, wore ivy wreathes and displayed cakes ['liba'] made of oil and honey which they would sacrifice to the god, as people passed by. A later development saw the goddess Libera emerge as a counterpart to the male Liber, and the two had a split jurisdiction over the male and female corn-seeds respectively. In a rustic ceremony a large phallus was carried around the countryside to encourage fertility and protect the crops from evil, after which a wreath was placed upon it by a virtuous matron.

The rites of the Agonalia were also celebrated on this day, and a ram was sacrificed to the god Mars by the Rex Sacrorum in the Regia. This was also the day, when young boys of sixteen were initiated into manhood by donning their all white togas.) 

The third day after the Ides is (given) to the celebration of Bacchus (i.e. the god of wine): favour this poet, Bacchus, while I sing of your feast. Nor shall I speak of Semele - if Jupiter had not consumed her with his lightning, you would have been a defenceless runt;  nor (of how) a mother's labour (was) brought to maturity in a father's body (i.e. after the incineration of Semele, Jupiter rescued his unborn son by sewing the foetus into his thigh). (It would take too) long to tell of his triumphs over the Sithonians (i.e. the Thracians) and the Scythians (i.e. they had fallen victim to the attractions of wine) and of your conquered races, (O) incense-bearing India. You too will not be spoken of, (you) vile trophy of a Theban mother (i.e. the severed head of Pentheus, king of Thebes, killed by his mother Agave in a drunken rage, because he had rejected the frenzied rites of Dionysus), and (you), Lycurgus, who killed your son in a mad fury (i.e. he killed his son with an axe, thinking him to be a vine). Look, I should like to tell of the monstrous Tyrrhenians suddenly (becoming) fish (i.e. the Tyrrhenian sailors who had captured Dionysus, but had then been inflicted with madness, so that they jumped overboard and were turned into dolphins); but it is not the theme of this song. The theme of this song (is) to explain the reasons why a common old woman should call people to her cakes.

Before your birth, Liber, altars were without offerings, and grass (was) found on the stone-cold hearths. They (i.e. the altars) record that, after the Ganges and all of the East had been subdued, you set aside the first fruits for mighty Jupiter: you (were) the first (to) offer cinnamon, and captured incense, and the roasted entrails of bulls that had been exhibited in triumphal processions. Libations derive their name from the name of their originator, and cakes (too), because some (of them) are offered to his sacred hearth. Cakes are baked for the god, because he delights in sweet substances, and they say that honey (was) discovered by Bacchus. He was going from the sandy Hebrus (i.e. the chief river of Thrace), accompanied by satyrs - my tale contains some not unpleasant jests - ; and he had already reached Rhodope and blooming Pangaea (i.e. mountains in Thrace); the cymbals resounded in the hands of his companions. Behold, induced by the jingling (noises), strange flying creatures, (called) bees, gather together, and they follow the sounds which the bronze (instruments) have set in motion; Liber collects the (bees) that are flying about, and confines (them) in a hollow tree, and he has his reward when he finds honey. When the satyrs and the bald old man (i.e. Silenus, Dionysus' teacher and a member of his retinue) had tried its taste, they looked for yellow honey-combs through the whole grove. The old man hears the humming of the swarm in a rotted elm-tree, and he sees some honey-cells but pretends that he hasn't; and, as he sat lazily on the bent back of his ass, he guides it to the elm and its hollow bark. He stood (on the ass), and, supporting himself on the tree's many branches, he searches avidly for the honey concealed in the trunk: a thousand hornets swarm, and plant their stings on his bald head, and leave their marks (all over) his snub-nosed face. He falls headlong and is kicked by his ass's foot, and he shouts for his friends and asks for their help. The satyrs run up and laugh at their father's bloated face: he limps about with an injured knee. The god (i.e. Liber/Bacchus) laughs too, and shows (him how) to smear his face with mud; he (i.e. Silenus) takes his advice, and smears his face with clay.

Father (Liber) enjoys honey, and we rightly offer its discoverer gleaming honey spread within hot cakes. There is no hidden reason why a woman should be in charge of (this process): he incites bands of women with his wand. Why, you ask, should an old woman do this? Their age is more prone to wine and loves the gift of the trailing vine. Why is she wreathed in ivy? Ivy is very dear to Bacchus: why this, too, should be so, it takes no time to learn. They say that, when his step-mother (i.e. Juno) was searching for the boy, the nymphs of (Mount) Nysa (i.e. probably the one in Boeotia) placed their leaves over his cradle. 

It remains for me to discover why the toga of liberty (i.e. usually known as the 'toga virilis', the manly toga) should be given to boys on your day, (O) bright Bacchus: whether (it is) because you yourself always seem (to be) a boy or a youth, and your age (somewhere) in the middle between the two of them; or because you are a father, (and) fathers commend their sons (and) the pledges (of) their (love) to your care and divinity; or because you are Liber, the robe of liberty, and the way of a freer life, is also adopted through you; or (is it) because (in the days) when our forefathers tilled the fields so vigorously, and senators did the work on their family's land, and a consul took his 'fasces' (i.e. the rods and axes) from his curved ploughshare, and it was no crime to have rough hands, the farming people came to the City for games - but that honour was paid to the gods, not to their pastimes: the inventor of the grape held games on his day, (games) which he now shares with the torch-bearing goddess (i.e. Ceres) - so, was it that a crowd (of people) could celebrate the novice that the day seemed not unsuited to the granting of the toga? Father, with your horns appeased, may you turn your gentle head in this direction, and may you grant my genius billowing sails.

There are processions to (the shrines of) the Argeï - their own pages (i.e. Book V of the 'Fasti') will declare who they are - today and yesterday, if I remember aright (n.b. the 'Argei' were bundles of rushes, formed into human shape, brought to 27 shrines in a preparatory rite on 16th and 17th March; on 14th May they will be thrown into the Tiber).

The star Miluus (i.e. the Kite) turns down near the Lycaonian Bear (i.e. Ursa Major, into which Jupiter had transformed Callisto, the daughter of Lycaon): on this night it comes into view. If you want to know what (it was) that bestowed heaven on that bird, (it was when) Saturn had been driven from his throne by Jupiter; in his anger, he (i.e. Saturn) incites the mighty Titans to (take up) arms, and seeks whatever help was due (to him) from the Fates. There was a bull, a shocking monster, born of mother Earth, with a serpent constituting its hindquarters (i.e. Typhoeus): warned by the Fates, the forceful Styx (i.e. the Hateful River, the principal river of the Underworld) had imprisoned it in the dark woods by a triple wall (i.e. in the depths of Tartarus, beneath Mount Aetna). There was a prophecy that whoever delivered the bull's entrails to be consumed by flames would conquer the eternal gods. Briareus (i.e. one of the three Hecatoncheires, the hundred-handed sons of Uranus and Gaea) slays it with an axe made from adamant, and was just about to assign its entrails to the flames (n.b. this is strange because Briareus was an ally of Jupiter): Jupiter orders the birds to snatch (them): the kite brought (them) to him, and due to its services it reached the stars.

March 19: Quinquatrus: Nefastus Publicus (ll. 809-848).

(This day is sacred to Minerva, goddess of handicrafts, doctors, teacher, artists, and many other practitioners.

The five days, March 19-23, i.e. the Quinquatria, were sacred to Mars, the god of war. The Salii danced in the comitium, accompanied by the pontiffs and the symbolic representatives of the army, and the sacred 'arma ancilia' were purified in ritual preparation for the season's coming military campaigns.) 

There is a one-day interval, and (then) there are enacted the rites of Minerva (i.e. the goddess of crafts), which take their name (i.e. quinquatria) from the conjunction of five days. The first day is free of blood, nor (is it) lawful  to join in sword (fights): its cause (is) because Minerva was born on that day. The next four (days) are celebrated on strewn sand (i.e. the arena for gladiatorial shows): the warlike goddess (n.b. Minerva derived her military functions from her association with the Greek goddess Pallas) is delighted by drawn swords. Now send your prayers to Pallas, (you) boys and tender girls; (he) who can well placate Pallas will be the clever (one). After Pallas has been placated, let the girls learn how to card (i.e. comb) wool, and how to unwind the full distaff (i.e. spinning), and she also teaches (how) to run the shuttle through the standing warp, and to close up the straggling work with the comb (i.e. weaving). Worship her, (you) who remove stains from damaged garments; worship her, you who prepare bronze cauldrons for fleeces. And no one will make good sandals against the wishes of Pallas, even if he should be more skilful than Tychius (i.e. the best of leather-workers, according to Homer): and, even if were considered to be better with his hands than ancient Epeus (i.e. the maker of the Wooden Horse), he will be crippled by Pallas, if she is angry. You, too, who drive away sicknesses with Phoebus' skills (i.e. those of the physician), reserve a few gifts of your own for the goddess. And don't scorn (her), you schoolmasters, (you) tribe so often cheated of your pay - (for) she attracts new pupils - ; nor (you) who use the engraver's chisel, and scorch the picture with colour (i.e. encaustic painters), nor (you) who carve soft stone with a skilful hand. She is the goddess of a  thousand functions: she is certainly the goddess of verse; if I am worthy, may she be a friend to my endeavours. Where the Caelian Hill descends from its summit to the plain, at the point where the street is not (quite) level, but (is) almost level, you can see the little shrine of Minerva Capta, which the goddess began to occupy on her birthday. The reason for this name is in doubt. We call shrewd genius 'capital': (and) the goddess is most ingenious. Or (is it) because it is said that, motherless, she sprang with her shield from the top of her father's head? Or (is it) because she came to us (as) a captive with the conquered Falisci (i.e. the people of the Etrurian city of Falerii, taken by the Romans in 241 B.C.)? And an ancient inscription informs (us) of this token. Or (is it) because she has a law which prescribes the penalty of capital punishment for the receipt (of anything) stolen from that place? By whatever reason you derive your title, Pallas, always hold your aegis in front of our leaders.

March 23: Tubilustrium: Nefas Publicus (ll. 849-876). 

(This, the last day of the Quinquatria, was also the Tubilustrium, the Day of the Purification of the Trumpets, when a lamb was sacrificed in the Atrium Sutorium to sanctify the trumpets employed in many of the public rites. This was accompanied by a dance of the Salii. It was a ceremony of purification and preparation for both the coming sacral year and the military campaigning season.)

The last of the five days (i.e. of the Quinquatria) exhorts (us) to purify the tuneful trumpets, and to offer sacrifice to the mighty goddess (i.e. Nerio, the wife of Mars, with whom Minerva came to be associated). Now you can raise your face to the sun and say, "Yesterday, he touched the fleece of Phrixus' ram (i.e. on 22nd March the sun entered the zodiac constellation of 'Aries', the Ram)."

The seeds were parched by the trick of the wicked stepmother (i.e. Ino), and the grain had not sprouted as it usually (did): (a messenger) had been sent to the oracle to report by a sure prophecy what cure the Delphic (god) would prescribe for the barren earth. Tarnished also like the seed, he reports that the deaths of Helle and of young Phrixus are sought by the oracle. And, when the citizens, and the season, and Ino compelled a reluctant king (i.e. Athamas) to submit to these impious orders, Phrixus and his sister, covering their brows with head-bands, stand together before the altar and bewail their joint fate. Their mother (i.e. Nephele, cloud) sees (them) by chance as she hung in the air, and beats her bare breasts with her hand in shock, and, with the clouds as her companions, she dives down into the dragon-born city (i.e. Thebes, founded by Cadmus, who sowed the dragon's teeth), and snatches her children away from there; and, so that they can make their escape, a ram, gleaming with gold, is provided; it conveys the two (of them) over the wide seas. The girl held on to the left-horn (too) weakly, they say, when she called the name of the water after herself (i.e. the Hellespont, the straits that link the Aegean to the Propontis, or the Sea of Marmora). Her brother almost died with her, when he tries to help (her) as she falls, and he extends his outstretched hands as far as possible. He wept at losing his partner in their twin peril, unaware that she has been joined to the azure god (i.e. Neptune). On reaching the shore, the ram becomes a constellation (i.e. Aries); but his golden fleece arrives at the halls of Colchis (i.e. a city on the eastern sea-coast of the Black Sea).

March 26: Comitialis (ll. 877-878).

When the rising Eos (i.e. Dawn) had sent Lucifer (i.e. the Morning Star) to precede her three times, you will find the daytime equal to that of the night (i.e. March 26th was the date of the Vernal Equinox).

March 30: Comitialis (ll. 879-882).

When, after that date, the shepherd has fed and penned his kids four times, and the grass has whitened with four fresh dews, Janus must be worshipped, and with him gentle Concordia, and the Health of Rome, and the Altar of Peace (n.b. Augustus had set up statues to each of these three deities).

March 31: Comitialis (ll. 883-884).

(This day was sacred to Luna, the personification of the Moon.)

Luna (i.e. the Moon) controls the months: Luna, worshipped, (as she is,) on the Aventine Hill (n.b. there was a temple there to Diana, who Ovid equates with Luna), also ends this month's time.