Rheims Cernunnos
Gallo-Roman relief, 1st century CE
In Which One Midwest Man-in-Black Confers, Converses & Otherwise Hob-Nobs with his Fellow Hob-Men (& -Women) Concerning the Sundry Ways of the Famed but Ill-Starred Tribe of Witches.
...Of the Anglii, this also may be said, if you can believe it: that at the sound of Spring's first thunder, they immediately drop whatever it is that they may be doing, be it ever so important, and fall to the ground and forthwith give themselves over to the act of love.
Indeed, the very king in his judgement-hall, the priest at his altar, nay, even the warrior on his battlefield: all these endeavors they lay aside to observe the rites of Venus without delay. Then, having accomplished their (as they see it) religious duty, they rise up again and promptly resume that which their act of venery had interrupted.
For Thunder they account to be the highest of all gods, and at the year's first sound of his voice it behooves them, so they say, to match, at his prompting, Heaven's pouring forth of seed (emissio semine) with a like pouring-forth here on Earth, that the crops may likewise grow tall and that the flocks may flourish.
Thus, if I may put it this way, at the behest of Jove do they offer to Venus on Ceres' behalf. Such is the disordered thinking of uncivilized peoples.
But enough of the Anglii....
Rheims Cernunnos
Gallo-Roman relief, 1st century CE
That sounds like a story that Tacitus hear from one of the Angli tribes neighbors not something he witnessed himself.