When the Sun rested upon the spacious threshold of this cavern dame Nature ran to meet him and the old man bent a hoary head before his proud rays. The adamantine door swung open of its own accord and revealed the vast interior, displaying the house and the secrets of Time. Here in their appointed places dwell the ages, their aspect marked by varying metals: there are piled those of brass; here those of iron stand stiff; there the silver ones gleam bright. In a fairer part of the cave, shy of contact with the earth, stood the group of golden years; of these Phoebus chooses the one of richest substance to be marked with the name of Stilicho. Then, bidding the rest follow behind him, he addresses them thus as they pass. “Lo! the consul is at hand for whom we have delayed an age of nobler ore. Go ye, years long prayed for by man, bring back virtue; let genius flourish once more; may Bacchus give you joy and fruitful Ceres bless you. Let not the constellation of the Serpent breathe forth too icy an air from between the two Ploughing Oxen nor the Bear vent his excessive
non toto fremat ore[11] Leo, nec brachia Cancri 460
urat atrox aestas, madidae nec prodigus urnae
semina praerupto dissolvat Aquarius imbre.
Phrixeus roseo producat fertile cornu
ver Aries, pingues nec grandine tundat olivas
Scorpius; autumni maturet germina Virgo, 465
lenior et gravidis adlatret Sirius uvis.”
Sic fatus croceis rorantes ignibus hortos