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JANUARY JANUS am I; oldest of potentates; | |
| Forward I look, and backward, and below | |
| I count, as god of avenues and gates, | |
| The years that through my portals come and go. | |
| I block the roads, and drift the fields with snow; | 5 |
| I chase the wild-fowl from the frozen fen; | |
| My frosts congeal the rivers in their flow, | |
| My fires light up the hearths and hearts of men. | |
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FEBRUARY I am lustration; and the sea is mine! | |
| I wash the sands and headlands with my tide; | 10 |
| My brow is crowned with branches of the pine; | |
| Before my chariot-wheels the fishes glide. | |
| By me all things unclean are purified, | |
| By me the souls of men washed white again; | |
| E’en the unlovely tombs of those who died | 15 |
| Without a dirge, I cleanse from every stain. | |
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MARCH I Martius am! Once first, and now the third! | |
| To lead the Year was my appointed place; | |
| A mortal dispossessed me by a word, | |
| And set there Janus with the double face. | 20 |
| Hence I make war on all the human race; | |
| I shake the cities with my hurricanes; | |
| I flood the rivers and their banks efface, | |
| And drown the farms and hamlets with my rains. | |
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APRIL I open wide the portals of the Spring | 25 |
| To welcome the procession of the flowers, | |
| With their gay banners, and the birds that sing | |
| Their song of songs from their aerial towers. | |
| I soften with my sunshine and my showers | |
| The heart of earth; with thoughts of love I glide | 30 |
| Into the hearts of men; and with the Hours | |
| Upon the Bull with wreathèd horns I ride. | |
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MAY Hark! The sea-faring wild-fowl loud proclaim | |
| My coming, and the swarming of the bees. | |
| These are my heralds, and behold! my name | 35 |
| Is written in blossoms on the hawthorn-trees. | |
| I tell the mariner when to sail the seas; | |
| I waft o’er all the land from far away | |
| The breath and bloom of the Hesperides, | |
| My birthplace. I am Maia. I am May. | 40 |
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JUNE Mine is the Month of Roses; yes, and mine | |
| The Month of Marriages! All pleasant sights | |
| And scents, the fragrance of the blossoming vine, | |
| The foliage of the valleys and the heights. | |
| Mine are the longest days, the loveliest nights; | 45 |
| The mower’s scythe makes music to my ear; | |
| I am the mother of all dear delights; | |
| I am the fairest daughter of the year. | |
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JULY My emblem is the Lion, and I breathe | |
| The breath of Libyan deserts o’er the land; | 50 |
| My sickle as a sabre I unsheathe, | |
| And bent before me the pale harvests stand. | |
| The lakes and rivers shrink at my command, | |
| And there is thirst and fever in the air; | |
| The sky is changed to brass, the earth to sand; | 55 |
| I am the Emperor whose name I bear. | |
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AUGUST The Emperor Octavian, called the August, | |
| I being his favorite, bestowed his name | |
| Upon me, and I hold it still in trust, | |
| In memory of him and of his fame. | 60 |
| I am the Virgin, and my vestal flame | |
| Burns less intensely than the Lion’s rage; | |
| Sheaves are my only garlands, and I claim | |
| The golden Harvests as my heritage. | |
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SEPTEMBER I bear the Scales, where hang in equipoise | 65 |
| The night and day; and when unto my lips | |
| I put my trumpet, with its stress and noise | |
| Fly the white clouds like tattered sails of ships; | |
| The tree-tops lash the air with sounding whips; | |
| Southward the clamorous sea-fowl wing their flight; | 70 |
| The hedges are all red with haws and hips, | |
| The Hunter’s Moon reigns empress of the night. | |
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OCTOBER My ornaments are fruits; my garments leaves, | |
| Woven like cloth of gold, and crimson dyed; | |
| I do not boast the harvesting of sheaves, | 75 |
| O’er orchards and o’er vineyards I preside. | |
| Though on the frigid Scorpion I ride, | |
| The dreamy air is full, and overflows | |
| With tender memories of the summer-tide, | |
| And mingled voices of the doves and crows. | 80 |
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NOVEMBER The Centaur, Sagittarius, am I, | |
| Born of Ixion’s and the cloud’s embrace; | |
| With sounding hoofs across the earth I fly, | |
| A steed Thessalian with a human face. | |
| Sharp winds the arrows are with which I chase | 85 |
| The leaves, half dead already with affright; | |
| I shroud myself in gloom; and to the race | |
| Of mortals bring nor comfort nor delight. | |
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DECEMBER Riding upon the Goat, with snow-white hair, | |
| I come, the last of all. This crown of mine | 90 |
| Is of the holly; in my hand I bear | |
| The thyrsus, tipped with fragrant cones of pine. | |
| I celebrate the birth of the Divine, | |
| And the return of the Saturnian reign;— | |
| My songs are carols sung at every shrine, | 95 |
| Proclaiming “Peace on earth, good will to men.” | |
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