10 Thy worship too, O Terminus, formed the close of the sacred rites. Fond fools alack! to fancy murder’s gruesome stain by river water could be washed away! But yet, lest you should err through ignorance of the ancient order, know that the month of Janus was of old the first, even as now it is the month that follows January was the last of the old year. The son of Amphiaraus 8 said to Naupactian 9 Achelous, “O rid me of my sin,” and the other did rid him of his sin. Wafted through the void by bridled dragons, the Phasian witch 7 received a welcome, which she little deserved at the hands of trusting Aegeus.
Peleus cleansed Acrorides, 6 and Acastus cleansed Peleus himself from the blood of Phocus by the Haemonian waters. Greece set the example: she deems that the guilty can rid themselves of their crimes by being purified.
5 Our sires believed that every sin and every cause of ill could be wiped out by rites and purgation. The month is called after these things, because the Luperci 4 purify the whole ground with strips of hide, which are their instruments of cleansing, or because the season is pure when once peace-offerings have been made at the graves and the days devoted to the dead are past. In short, anything used to cleanse our bodies went by that name in the time of our unshorn forefathers. I myself have seen the Flamen’s wife ( Flaminica) begging for februa at her request for februa a twig of pine was given her. The same name is given to the bough, which, cut from a pure tree, 3 wreathes with its leaves the holy brows of the priests. When houses are swept out, the toasted spelt and slat which the officer gets as means of cleansing are called by the same name. The pontiffs ask the King 2 and the Flamen for woolen cloths, which in the tongue of the ancients had the name of februa. Our Roman fathers gave the name of februa to instruments of purifications: even to this day there are many proofs that such was the meaning of the world. Come, then, and if the conquest of the foe leaves thee a vacant hour, O cast a kindly glance upon my gifts. If I can neither hurl the javelin with brawny arm, nor bestride the back of war horse if there is no helmet on my head, no sharp sword at my belt – at such weapons any man may be a master of fence – still do I rehearse with hearty zeal thy titles, Caesar, 1 and pursue thy march of glory. Myself now sing of sacred rites and of the seasons marked in the calendar: who could think that this could come of that? Herein is all my soldiership: I bear the only arms I can: my right hand is not all unserviceable. Myself I found you pliant ministers of love, when in the morn of youth I toyed with verse. My elegiacs, now for the first time ye do sail with ampler canvas spread: As I remember, up till now your theme was slender. The year progresses with my song: even as this second month, so may my second book proceed. June FASTI BOOK 2, TRANSLATED BY JAMES G.
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