Lawrence Durdin-Robertson - Floralia Memorial

Flora

"Come, Mother of Flowers, that we may honour thee with marry games; last month I put off giving thee thy due. Thou dost begin in April and passest into the time of May …” So I spoke, and the goddess answered my questions thus, and while she spoke, her lips breathed vernal roses: “I who now am called Flora was formerly Chloris: a Greek letter of my name is corrupted in the Latin speech. Chloris I was, a nymph of the happy fields where, as you have heard, dwelt fortunate men of old. Modesty shrinks from describing my figure .. I enjoy perpetual spring; most buxom is the Year ever; ever the tree is clothed with leaves, the ground with pasture. In the fields that are my dower, I have a fruitful garden, fanned by the breeze and watered by a spring of running water. This garden my husband filled with noble flowers and said, “Goddess, be Queen of Flowers’. Oft did I wish to count the colours in the beds … Soon as the dewy rime is shaken from the leaves, and the varied foliage is warmed by the sunbeams, the Hours assemble, clad in dappled garments, and cull my gifts in light baskets. Straightway the Graces draw near, and twine garlands and wreaths to bind their heavenly hair. I was the first to scatter new seeds among the countless peoples ... Perhaps you may think that I am queen only of dainty garlands; but my divinity has to do also with the tilled fields. If the crops have blossomed well, the threshing-floor will be piled high; if the vines have blossomed well, there will be wine; if the olive-trees have blossomed well, most bounteous will be the Year … Honey is my gift. It is I who called the winged insects, which yield honey, to the violet, and the clover, and the grey thyme … We delight in festivals and altars … if we are neglected, we avenge the wrong … I myself was once neglected by the Roman Senate. What was I to do? By what could I show my resentment? What punishment exact for the slight put on me? In my gloom I relinquished my office. I guarded not the countryside and the fruitful garden was naught to me. The lilies had dropped; you might see the violets withering, and the tendrils of the crimson saffron languishing … I did not will it so, nor am I cruel in my anger, but I did not care to ward off these ills. The senate assembled and voted an annual festival to my divinity if the Year should prove fruitful. I accepted the vow. The consuls Laenas and Pstumius celebrated the games which had been vowed to me.”