Silvae I.6 (Mozley): The Kalends of December

Hence, father Phoebus and stern Pallas! Away, ye Muses, go, keep holiday; we will call you back at the New Year. But Saturn, slip your fetters and come hither, and December tipsy with much wine, and laughing Mirth and wanton Wit, while I recount the glad festival of our merry Caesar and the banquet’s drunken revel.

Scarce was the new dawn stirring, when already sweetmeats were raining from the line, such was the dew the rising East wind was scattering; the famous fruit of Pontic nut-groves, or of Idume’s fertile slopes, all that devout Damascus grows upon its boughs or thirsty Caunus ripens, falls in a generous profusion. Biscuits and melting pastries, Amerian fruit not over-ripe, must-cakes, and bursting dates from invisible palms were showering down. Not with such torrents do stormy Hyades o’erwhelm the earth or Pleiades dissolved in rain, as the hail that from a sunny sky lashed the people in the theatre of Rome. Let Jupiter send his tempests through the world and threaten the broad fields, while our own Jove sends us showers like these!

But lo! another multitude, handsome and well-dressed, as numerous as that upon the benches, makes its way along all the rows. Some carry baskets of bread and white napkins and more luxurious fare; others serve languorous wine in abundant measure; so many cupbearers of Ida would you think them. Thou dost nourish alike the circle of the noble and austere and the folk that wear the toga, and since, O generous lord, thou dost feed so many multitudes, haughty Annona knoweth nought of this festival. Come now, Antiquity, compare with ours the age of primeval Jove and the times of gold: less bounteously then did the vintage flow, not thus did the harvest anticipate the tardy year. One table serves every class alike, children, women, people, knights, and senators: freedom has loosed the bonds of awe. Nay even thyself—what god could have such leisure, or vouchsafe as much?—thou didst come and share our banquet. And now everyone, be he rich or poor, boasts himself the Emperor’s guest.

Amid such excitements and strange luxuries the pleasure of the scene flies quickly by: women untrained to the sword take their stand, daring, how recklessly, men’s battles! you would think Thermodon’s bands were furiously fighting by Tanais or barbarous Phasis. Then comes a bold array of dwarfs, whose term of growth abruptly ended has bound them once for all into a knotted lump. They give and suffer wounds, and threaten death—with fists how tiny! Father Mars and Bloodstained Valour laugh, and cranes, waiting to swoop on scattered booty, marvel at the fiercer pugilists.

Now as the shades of night draw on, what commotion attends the scattering of largess! Here enter maidens easily bought; here is recognized all that in theatres wins favour or applause for skill or beauty. Here a crowd of buxom Lydian girls are clapping hands, here tinkle the cymbals of Cadiz, there troops of Syrians are making uproar, there are theatre-folk and they who barter common sulphur for broken glass.

Amid the tumult dense clouds of birds swoop suddenly down through the air, birds from holy Nile and frost-bound Phasis, birds that Numidians capture ’neath the dripping South. Too few are there to seize them all, exultantly they grasp their fill and ever clutch fresh plunder. Countless voices are raised to heaven, acclaiming the Emperor’s festival; with loving enthusiasm they salute their Lord. This liberty alone did Caesar forbid them.

Scarce was dusky night shrouding the world, when through the dense gloom a ball of flame fell gleaming into the arena’s midst, surpassing the brightness of the Gnosian crown. The sky was ablaze with fire, and suffered not the reign of darkness: sluggish Quiet fled, and lazy Sleep betook himself to other cities at the sight. Who can sing of the spectacle, the unrestrained mirth, the banqueting, the unbought feast, the lavish streams of wine? Ah! now I faint, and drunken with thy liquor drag myself at last to sleep.

For how many years shall this festival abide! Never shall age destroy so holy a day! While the hills of Latium remain and father Tiber, while thy Rome stands and the Capitol thou hast restored to the world, it shall continue.