Ab urbe condita

As the thing seemed hardly credible, men were sent to inspect the prodigy, and whilst they were watching, a heavy shower of stones fell from the sky, just like hailstones heaped together by the wind.

They fancied, too, that they heard a very loud voice from the grove on the summit bidding the Albans celebrate their sacred rites after the manner of their fathers. These solemnities they had consigned to oblivion, as though they had abandoned their gods when they abandoned their country and had either adopted Roman rites or, as sometimes happens, embittered against Fortune, had given up the service of the gods.

In consequence of this prodigy, the Romans, too, kept up a public religious observance for nine days, either —as tradition asserts —owing to the voice from the Alban Mount, or because of the warning of the soothsayers.

In either case, however, it became permanently established whenever the same prodigy was reported; a nine days' solemnity was observed. Not long after a pestilence caused great distress, and made men indisposed for the hardships of military service. The warlike king, however, allowed no respite from arms; he thought, too, that it was more healthy for the soldiery in the field than at home.

At last he himself was seized with a lingering illness, and that fierce and restless spirit became so broken through bodily weakness, that he who had once thought nothing less fitting for a king than devotion to sacred things, now suddenly became a prey to every sort of religious terror, and filled the City with religious observances.

There was a general desire to recall the condition of things which existed under Numa, for men felt that the only help that was left against sickness was to obtain the forgiveness of the gods and be at peace with heaven.