Talk:Proserpina
(New page: this page needs to be re-titled Proserpina. I've taken out the mythology and padding. ~~~) |
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this page needs to be re-titled Proserpina. I've taken out the mythology and padding. [[User:Marca Hortensia Maior|Marca Hortensia Maior]] | this page needs to be re-titled Proserpina. I've taken out the mythology and padding. [[User:Marca Hortensia Maior|Marca Hortensia Maior]] | ||
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| + | The Romans called her Persephone as well: | ||
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| + | The Trinacrian land took its name from its shape: | ||
| + | It runs out in three rocky capes to the vast ocean. | ||
| + | It’s a place dear to Ceres. She owns, there, many cities, | ||
| + | Among them fertile Enna, with its well-ploughed soul. | ||
| + | Cool Arethusa gathered together the mothers of the gods: | ||
| + | And the yellow-haired goddess came to the sacred feast. | ||
| + | Her daughter, Persephone, attended by girls, as ever, | ||
| + | Wandered barefoot through Enna’s meadows. | ||
| + | In a shadow-filled valley there’s a place, | ||
| + | Wet by the copious spray from a high fall. | ||
| + | All the colours of nature were displayed there, | ||
| + | And the earth was bright with hues of various flowers. | ||
| + | On seeing it she cried: ‘Come here to me, my friends, | ||
| + | And each carry back, with me, a lapful of flowers.’ | ||
| + | The foolish prize enticed their girlish spirits, | ||
| + | And they were too busy to feel weary. - Ovid, Fasti IV | ||
Revision as of 03:42, 29 August 2009
this page needs to be re-titled Proserpina. I've taken out the mythology and padding. Marca Hortensia Maior
The Romans called her Persephone as well:
The Trinacrian land took its name from its shape: It runs out in three rocky capes to the vast ocean. It’s a place dear to Ceres. She owns, there, many cities, Among them fertile Enna, with its well-ploughed soul. Cool Arethusa gathered together the mothers of the gods: And the yellow-haired goddess came to the sacred feast. Her daughter, Persephone, attended by girls, as ever, Wandered barefoot through Enna’s meadows. In a shadow-filled valley there’s a place, Wet by the copious spray from a high fall. All the colours of nature were displayed there, And the earth was bright with hues of various flowers. On seeing it she cried: ‘Come here to me, my friends, And each carry back, with me, a lapful of flowers.’ The foolish prize enticed their girlish spirits, And they were too busy to feel weary. - Ovid, Fasti IV
