Jupiter
The chief god of the Romans, identified with the Greek Zeus. At Tusculum he was worshiped as Maius.
Where the months got their names
Macrobius, Saturnalia 1.12–14 (early fifth century CE), in the edition of Franz Eyssenhardt (Leipzig, 1893) · early fifth century CE; the dialogue is set in the 380s
sunt qui hunc mensem ad nostros fastos a Tusculanis transisse commemorent, apud quos nunc quoque uocatur deus Maius, qui est Iuppiter, a magnitudine scilicet ac maiestate dictus.
Some say this month came into our calendar from the people of Tusculum. There Jupiter is still called the god Maius, a name that comes, of course, from his greatness (magnitudo) and majesty (maiestas).
To Himself, in the Plague Year
Petrarch, Letters in Verse 1.14, “To Himself,” edited by Domenico Rossetti (1831) · 1348
Sive est ira Dei, quod crimina nostra mereri
Certe ego crediderim, seu sola iniuria coeli,
Natura variante vices. Hic pestifer annus
Humano generi incubuit, flendumque minatur
Excidium, mortique favet densissimus aer.
Saevus ab infecto prospectat Iupiter axe;
Inde pluit morbos et tristia funera terris,
Staminaque immites properant abrumpere Parcae,
Omnia, si possent, pariter; vereorque superne
Quod cupiunt ne posse datum: tot pallida vulgi
Ora videns miseri, tot Tartara nigra petentes.
Perhaps it is the anger of God, and I would surely believe our crimes deserve it. Or perhaps it is only some harm from the sky, as nature changes its course. This deadly year has fallen on the human race. It threatens a destruction to weep over, and the thick air favors death. Savage Jupiter looks down from an infected sky. From there he rains down sickness and grim deaths on the earth. The cruel Fates hurry to cut the threads of life, all of them at once, if they could. When I see so many pale faces among the wretched common people, and so many heading for black Tartarus, I fear that heaven has given them the power to do what they want.