A Spring Festival (On the Road to the Temple of Ceres) Lawrence Alma-Tadema (1836-1912)

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WHEN WINTER’S RAGE ABATES, WHEN CHEERFUL HOURS
AWAKE THE SPRING, AND SPRING AWAKES THE FLOWERS,
ON THE GREEN TURF THEY FEARLESS LIMBS DISPLAY
AND CELEBRATE THE MIGHTY MOTHER’S DAY
FOR THEN THE HILLS WITH PLEASING SHADES ARE CROWND
AND SLEEPS ARE SWEETER ON THE SILKEN GROUND
WITH MILDER BEAMS THE SUN SECURELY SHINES.

FAT ARE THE LAMBS AND LUSCIOUS ARE THE WINES.
LET EVERY SWAIN ADORE HER POWER DIVINE,
AND MILK AND HONEY MIX WITH SPARKLING WINE,
LET ALL THE CHOIR OF CLOWNS ATTEND THE SHOW,
IN LONG PROCESSION, SHOUTING AS THEY GO,
INVOKING HER TO BLESS THEIR YEARLY STORES,
INVITING PLENTY TO THEIR CROWDED FLOORS.

THUS IN THE SPRING AND THUS IN SUMMER’S HEAT
BEFORE THE SICKLES TOUCH THE RIPENING WHEAT.
ON CERES CALL: AND LET THE LABOURING HIND
WITH OAKEN WREATHS HIS HOLLOW TEMPLES BIND:
ON CERES LET HIM CALL AND CERES PRAISE,
WITH UNCOUTH DANCES AND WITH COUNTRY LAYS.

GEORGICS I
Translated by John Dryden.