Classic Audiobook Collection - On the Nature of Things by Titus Lucretius Carus ~ Full Audiobook [poetry]
Episode Date: December 13, 2023On the Nature of Things by Titus Lucretius Carus audiobook. Genre: poetry On the Nature of Things, written in the first century BCE by Titus Lucretius Carus, is one of the principle expositions on Ep...icurean philosophy and science to have survived from antiquity. Far from being a dry treatise on the many topics it covers, the original Latin version (entitled De Rerum Natura) was written in the form of an extended poem in hexameter, with a beauty of style that was admired and emulated by his successors, including Ovid and Cicero. The version read here is an English verse translation written by William Ellery Leonard. Although Leonard penned his version in the early twentieth century, he chose to adhere to both the vocabulary and meter (alternating between pentameter and hexameter) of Elizabethan-era poetry. While the six untitled books that comprise On the Nature of Things delve into a broad range of subjects, including the physical nature of the universe, the workings of the human mind and body, and the natural history of the Earth, Lucretius repeatedly asserts throughout the work that his chief purpose is to provide the reader with a means to escape the 'darkness of the mind' imposed by superstition and ignorance. To this end he offers us his enlightening verses, that through them might be revealed to us 'nature's aspect, and her laws' For ad-free listening try our premium subscription Chapters (Approximate) (00:00:00) Chapter 01 (00:10:37) Chapter 02 (00:24:22) Chapter 03 (00:36:41) Chapter 04 (00:49:44) Chapter 05 (01:05:56) Chapter 06 (01:19:58) Chapter 07 (01:33:06) Chapter 08 (01:47:41) Chapter 09 (02:01:14) Chapter 10 (02:14:55) Chapter 11 (02:28:44) Chapter 12 (02:46:15) Chapter 13 (02:58:16) Chapter 14 (03:10:25) Chapter 15 (03:16:25) Chapter 16 (03:26:40) Chapter 17 (03:32:04) Chapter 18 (03:38:46) Chapter 19 (03:52:22) Chapter 20 (04:08:31) Chapter 21 (04:25:43) Chapter 22 (04:35:10) Chapter 23 (04:48:28) Chapter 24 (05:05:53) Chapter 25 (05:23:21) Chapter 26 (05:40:31) Chapter 27 (05:58:34) Chapter 28 (06:16:44) Chapter 29 (06:33:25) Chapter 30 (06:48:37) Chapter 31 (07:06:27) Chapter 32 (07:22:10) Chapter 33 (07:37:02) Chapter 34 (07:52:32) Chapter 35 (08:07:45) Chapter 36 (08:22:56) Chapter 37 Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices
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On the Nature of Things, the Monroe translation by Titus Lucretius Karras, translated by H. A.J. Monroe.
Book 1. Part 1.
Mother of the Iniadai, darling of men and gods, increase giving Venus,
who beneath the gliding signs of heaven fillest with thy presence the ship-carrying seas,
the corn-bearing lands, since through thee every kind of living things is conceived,
rises up and beholds the light of the sun.
Before thee goddess flee the winds, the clouds of heaven, before thee in thy advent.
For thee, earth manifold and works puts forth sweet-smelling flowers.
For thee the levels of the sea do laugh, and heaven propitiated shines with outspread light.
For soon as the vernal aspect of day is disclosed, and the birth-favoring breeze of Favonius unbarred is blowing fresh,
first the falls of the arrow lady show signs of thee and thy entering in thoroughly smitten in heart by thy power next the wild herds bound over the glad pastures and swim the rapid rivers in such wise each made prisoner by thy charms follows thee with desire whither thou goest to lead it on
Yes, throughout seas and mountains and sweeping rivers, and leafy homes of birds and grassy plains,
striking fond love into the breasts of all, thou constrainest them each after its kind to
continue their races with desire. Since thou then art sole mistress of the nature of things,
and without thee nothing rises up into the divine borders of light,
nothing grows to be glad or lovely, fain would I have thee,
for a helpmate, in writing the verses which I essay to pen on the nature of things for our own son of the
Memmi'i, whom thou got us hast willed to have no peer, rich as he ever is in every grace.
Wherefore all the more, O Lady, lend my lays an enliving charm.
Cause, meanwhile, the savage works of war to be lulled to rest throughout all seas and lands.
for thou alone canst bless mankind with calm peace, seeing that Mars, Lord of Battle, controls the savage
works of war, Mars, who often flings himself into thy lap, quite vanquished by the never-healing
wound of love, and then with upturned face and shapely neck thrown back, feeds with love his greedy
sight, gazing goddess, open-mouthed on thee. And as backward he reclines, his breath stays hanging on
thy lips. Well then, lady, he is reposing on thy holy body. Shed thyself about him and above,
and pour from thy lips, sweet discourse, asking glorious dame gentle peace for the Romans.
For neither can we in our country's day of trouble with untroubled mind,
think only of our work, nor can the illustrious offset of Memmius in times like these be wanting to the
general wheel. For what remains to tell, apply to true reason on busy ears, and a keen mind
withdrawn from cares, lest my gifts set out for you with steadfast zeal, you abandon with disdain
before they are understood. For I would essay to discourse to you of the most,
high system of heaven and the gods, and will open up the first beginnings of things,
out of which nature gives birth to all things, an increase, and nourishment, and into which nature
likewise dissolves them back after their destruction. These we are accustomed in explaining
their reason to call matter, and begetting bodies of things, and to name seeds of things,
and also to term first bodies, because from them as first elements, all things are
When human life to view, lay foully prostrate upon earth, crushed down under the weight of religion,
who showed her head from the quarters of heaven with hideous aspect, lowering upon mortals.
A man of Greece ventured first to lift up his mortal eyes to her face, and first to withstand her to her face.
him neither story of gods nor thunderbolts nor heaven with threatening roar could quell.
They only chafed the more the eager courage of his soul, filling him with desire to be the first to burst the fast bars of nature's portals.
Therefore the living force of his soul gained the day. On he passed far beyond the flaming walls of the world,
and traversed throughout in mind and spirit the immeasurable universe.
verse, whence he returns a conqueror, to tell us what can and what cannot come into being,
in short, on what principle each thing has its powers defined, its deep-set boundary mark.
Therefore, religion is put underfoot and trampled upon in turn. Us, his victory brings level
with heaven. This is what I fear her in. Lest happily you should fancy that you are entering
on unholy grounds of reason and treading the path of sin, whereas on the contrary, often and often,
that very religion has given birth to sinful and unholy deeds. Thus in Owlis, the chosen chieftains
of the Danai, foremost of men, foully polluted with Ithianasa's blood, the altar of the
trivian made. Soon as the fillet encircling her maiden tresses shed itself in equal length,
each cheek, and soon as she saw her father standing sorrowful before the altars, and beside him,
the ministering priests, hiding the knife, and her countrymen at sight of her shedding tears.
Speechless in terror, she dropped down on her knees and sank to the ground.
Nor ought in such a moment could it avail the luckless girl that she had first bestowed the name of
father on the king. For lifted up in the hands of the men, she was carried shivering to the altars,
not after due performance of the customary rights to be escorted by the clear-ringing bridal song,
but, in the very season of marriage, stainless maid, mid the stain of blood, to fall a sad victim
by the sacrificing stroke of a father, that thus a happy and prosperous departure might be granted to the
elite. So great the evils to which religion could prompt. You yourself sometime or other,
overcome by the terror-speaking tales of the seers, will seek to fall away from us. I, indeed,
for how many dreams may they now imagine for you, enough to upset the calculations of life and
trouble all your fortunes with fear? And with good cause, for if men saw that there was a
fixed limit to their woes, they would be able in some way to withstand the religious
grouples and threatenings of the seers. As it is, there is no way, no means of resisting,
since they must fear after death everlasting pains. For they cannot tell what is the nature of the
soul, whether it be born or, on the contrary, find its way into men at their birth,
and whether it perished together with us, when severed from us by death, or visit the gloom of Orcus and
wasteful pools, or by divine decree, find its way into brutes in our stead, as saying our Enneus,
who first brought down from delightful Helicon a crown of unfading leaf, destined to bright
renown throughout Italian clans of men. And yet with all this, Ennius sets forth that there are
Acharusian quarters, publishing it in immortal verses, though in our passage thither neither our souls
nor bodies hold together, but only certain idols pale and wondrous wise.
From these places he tells us the ghost of ever-living Homer up rose before him, and began to shed
salt tears, and to unfold in words the nature of things. Wherefore we must well grasp the principle
of things above, the principle by which the courses of the sun and moon go on, the force by which
everything on earth proceeds. But above all, we must find out by keen reason what the soul and the
nature of the mind consist of, and what thing it is which meets us when awake and frightens our minds,
if we are under the influence of disease, meets and frightens us too when we are buried in sleep,
so that we seem to see and hear speaking to us face to face, them who are dead,
whose bones earth holds in its embrace.
Nor does my mind fail to perceive how hard it is to make clear in Latin verses the dark discoveries
of the Greeks, especially as many points must be dealt with in new terms on account of the
poverty of the language and the novelty of the questions.
But yet your worth and the looked-for pleasure of sweet-te-reve-reve-react-review of sweet-es.
friendship prompt me to undergo any labor and lead me on to watch the clear nights through
seeking by what words and in what verse I may be able in the end to shed on your mind
so clear a light that you can thoroughly scan hidden things.
End of Section 1. Section 2 of On the Nature of Things by Titus Lucretius Karris.
This Libro Box recording is in the public domain, read by Pamelaus.
and Nagami, book one, part two. This terror, then, and darkness of the mind must be dispelled,
not by the rays of the sun and glittering shafts of day, but by the aspect and the law of nature.
The warp of whose design we shall begin with this first principle, nothing is ever gotten out of
nothing by divine power. Fear and sooth hold so in check all mortals, because they see
many operations go on in earth and heaven, the causes of which they can in no way understand,
believing them, therefore, to be done by power divine. For these reasons, when we shall have seen
that nothing can be produced from nothing, we shall then more correctly ascertain that which we are
seeking, both the elements out of which everything can be produced, and the manner in which
all things are done without the hand of the gods. If things came from nothing, any kind might be born of
anything. Nothing would require seed. Men, for instance, might arise out of the sea, the scaly race
out of the earth, and birds might burst out of the sky. Horned and other herds, every kind of wild beasts,
would haunt with changing brood, tilth and wilderness alike.
Nor would the same fruits keep constant to trees, but would change.
Any tree might bear any fruit, for if there were not begetting bodies for each,
how could things have a fixed, unvarying mother?
But in fact, because things are all produced from fixed seeds,
each thing is born and goes forth into the borders of light,
out of that in which resides its matter and first bodies. And for this reason, all things cannot be
gotten out of all things, because in particular things reside a distinct power. Again, why do we see
the rose put forth in spring, corn in the season of heat, vines yielding at the call of autumn,
if not because when the fixed seeds of things have streamed together at the proper time,
whatever is born discloses itself, while the due seasons are there, and the quickened earth brings
its weekly products in safety forth into the borders of light. But if they came from nothing,
they would rise up suddenly at uncertain periods and unsuitable times of year, inasmuch as there would be
no first beginnings to be kept from a begetting union by unpropitious season. No, nor would time be required for the
of things after the meeting of the seed, if they could increase out of nothing.
Little babies would at once grow into men, and trees in a moment would rise and spring out of the
ground. But none of these events, me this plain, ever comes to pass, since all things grow
step by step, at a fixed time as is natural, since they all grow from a fixed seed,
and in growing preserve their kind,
so that you may be sure that all things increase in size
and are fed out of their own matter.
Furthermore, without fixed seasons of rain,
the earth is unable to put forth its gladdening produce,
nor again, if kept from food,
could the nature of living things continue its kind and sustain life,
so that you may hold with greater truth
that many bodies are common to many things,
as we see letters common to different words,
than that anything could come into being without first beginnings.
Again, why could not nature have produced men of such a size and strength
as to be able to wade on foot across the sea and rend great mountains with their hands
and outlive many generations of living men?
If not, because an unchanging matter has been assigned for forgetting things
and what can arise out of this matter is fixed.
We must admit, therefore, that nothing can come from nothing,
since things require seed before they can severally be born
and be brought out into the buxom fields of air.
Lastly, since we see that tilled grounds surpass untilled and yield a better produce
by the labor of hands, we may infer that there are in the earth
first beginnings of things, which by turning up the fruitful clods with the share,
and laboring the soil of the earth we stimulate to rise. But if there were not such,
you would see all things, without any labor of ours, spontaneously come forth in much greater
perfection. Moreover, nature dissolves everything back into its first bodies and does not
annihilate things. For if ought were mortal, in all its parts alike, the thing in a moment would be
snatched away to destruction from before our eyes, since no force would be needed to produce
disruption among its parts and undo their fastenings. Whereas, in fact, as all things consist of an
imperishable seed, nature suffers the destruction of nothing to be seen until a force has encountered its
sufficient to dash things to pieces by a blow, or to pierce through the void places within them,
and break them up. Again, if time, whenever it makes away with things through age, utterly destroys them,
eating up all their matter, out of what does Venus bring back into the light of life,
the race of living things, each after its kind, or when they are brought back, out of what does
earth manifold in works, give them nourishment and increase, furnishing them with food each after
its kind. Out of what do its own native fountains and extraneous rivers from far and wide keep full
the sea? Out of what does ether feed the stars? For infinite time goes by, and lapse of days
must have eaten up all things which are of mortal body. Now, if in that period of time gone by,
those things have existed, of which this sum of things is composed and recruited, they are
possessed no doubt of an imperishable body, and cannot therefore any of them return to nothing.
Again, the same force and cause would destroy all things without distinction, unless everlasting
matter held them together. Matter, more or less closely linked in mutual entanglement.
A touch insooth would be sufficient cause of death, inasmuch as any amount of force,
must undo the texture of things in which no parts at all were of an everlasting body.
But in fact, because the fastenings of first beginnings one with the other are unlike,
and matter is everlasting, things continue with body uninjured until a force is found to encounter them strong
enough to overpower the texture of each. A thing, therefore, never returns to nothing,
but all things after disruption go back into the first bodies of matter. Lastly, rains die
when Father Ether has tumbled them into the lap of Mother Earth. But then, goodly crops spring up,
and bows our green with leaves upon the trees. Trees themselves grow and are laden with fruit.
By them in turn, our race and the race of wild beasts are fed. By them we see Glad Towns team with
children, and the leafy forests ring on all sides with the song of new birds. Through them,
cattle wearied with their load of fat, lay their bodies down about the glad pastures,
and the white milky stream pours from the distinctions.
ended udders. Through them, a new brood with weakly limbs frisks and gambols over the soft grass,
wrapped in their young hearts with the pure new milk. None of the things, therefore, which
seem to be lost, is utterly lost, since nature replenishes one thing out of another, and does not
suffer anything to be begotten before she has been recruited by the death of some other. Now,
me. Since I have taught that things cannot be born from nothing, cannot when begotten be brought back to
nothing, that you may not happily yet begin in any shape to mistrust my words, because the first
beginnings of things cannot be seen by the eyes. Take moreover this list of bodies which you must
yourself admit are in the number of things and cannot be seen. First of all, the force of the wind,
When aroused beats on the harbors
And whelms huge ships
And scatters clouds
Sometimes in swift whirling eddy
It scours the plains
And strews them with large trees
And scourges the mountain summits
With forest rending blasts
So fiercely does the wind
Rave with a shrill howling
And rage with threatening roar
Winds therefore
Sure enough are unseen bodies
Which sweep the seas
the lands, eye in the clouds of heaven, tormenting them and catching them up in sudden whirls.
On they stream and spread destruction abroad in just the same way as the soft liquid nature of water,
when all at once it is borne along in an overflowing stream,
and a great downfall of water from the high hills augments it with copious rains,
flinging together fragments of forests and entire trees,
nor can the strong bridges sustain the sudden force of coming water.
In such wise, turbid with much rain,
the river dashes upon the piers with mighty force,
making havoc with loud noise,
and rolls under its eddies huge stones,
wherever aught opposes its waves,
down it dashes it.
In this way, then, must the blasts of wind as well move on,
and when they like a mighty stream have borne down in any direction, they push things before them
and throw them down with repeated assaults, sometimes catch them up in a curling eddy, and carry them
away in swift-circling whirl. Wherefore once and again I say, winds are unseen bodies,
since in their works and ways they are found to rival great rivers, which are of a visible body.
Then again, we perceive the different smell of things, yet never see them coming to our nostrils,
nor do we behold heats, nor can we observe cold with the eyes, nor are we used to see voices.
Yet all these things must consist of a bodily nature, since they are able to move the senses,
for nothing but body can touch and be touched.
Again, clothes hung up on a shore which waves break upon become moist, and then get dry of spread out in the sun.
Yet it has not been seen in what way the moisture of water has sunk into them, nor again in what way this has been dispelled by heat.
The moisture, therefore, is dispersed into small particles which the eyes are quite unable to see.
again after the revolution of many of the sun's years a ring on the finger is thinned on the underside by wearing
the dripping from the eaves hollows a stone the bent plow share of iron imperceptibly decreases in the fields
and we behold the stone paved streets worn down by the feet of the multitude the brass statues too at the
gates show their right hands to be wasted by the touch of the numerous passers-by who greet them.
These things, then, we see are lessened, since they have been thus worn down.
But what bodies depart at any given time the nature of vision has jealously shut out our
seeing? Lastly, the bodies which time and nature add to things by little and little,
constraining them to grow in due measure, no exertion of the eyesight can behold. And so too,
wherever things grow old by age and decay. And when rocks hanging over the sea are eaten away by the
gnawing salt spray, we cannot see what they lose at any given moment. Nature therefore works by
unseen bodies. End of Section 2. Section 3 of on the
Nature of Things by Titus Lucretius Karris. This Librovox recording is in the public domain,
read by Pamela Nagami. Book 1, Part 3. And yet, all things are not on all sides jammed together,
and kept in body. There is also void in things. To have learned this will be good for you on many
accounts. It will not suffer you to wander in doubt and be to seek in the sum of things and
distrustful of our words. If there was not void, things could not move at all. For that which is the
property of body, to let and hinder, would be present to all things at all times. Nothing, therefore,
could go on, since no other thing would be the first to give way. But in fact, throughout seas and lands
and the heights of heaven, we see before our eyes many things move in many ways for various reasons,
which things, if there were no void, I need not say, would lack and want restless motion.
They never would have been begotten at all, since matter jammed on all sides would have been at rest.
Again, however solid things are thought to be, you may yet learn from this that they are of rare body.
In rocks and caverns, the moisture of water oozes through, and all things weep with abundant drops.
Food distributes itself through the whole body of living things.
Trees grow and yield fruit in season, because food is diffused through the whole from the very roots over the stem and all the boughs.
Voices pass through walls and fly through houses shut.
Stiffening frost pierces to the bones.
Now, if there are no void parts, by what way can the bodies severally pass?
You would see it to be quite impossible.
Once more, why do we see one thing surpass another in weight, though not larger in size?
For if there is just as much body in a ball of wool as there is in a lump of lead, it is natural
it should weigh the same, since the property of body is to weigh all things downwards,
while on the contrary the nature of void is ever without weight.
Therefore, when a thing is just as large, yet is found to be lighter, it proves sure enough that it has more of void in it.
While on the other hand, that which is heavier shows that there is in it more of body, and that it contains within it much less void.
Therefore, that which we are seeking with keen reason exists sure enough, mixed up in things, and we call it void.
and herein I am obliged to forestall this point which some rays lest it draw you away from the truth.
The waters, they say, make way for the scaly creatures as they press on and open liquid paths
because the fish leave room behind them into which the yielding water may stream.
Thus other things too may move and change place among themselves, although the whole sum is full.
This, you are to know, has been taken up.
on grounds wholly false. For on what side, I ask, can the scaly creatures move forwards, unless the
waters have first made room? Again, on what side can the waters give place so long as the fish are
unable to go on? Therefore, you must either strip all bodies of motion, or admit that in things
void is mixed up from which everything gets its first start in moving. Lastly, if to
two broad bodies after contact quickly spring asunder, the air must surely fill all the void
which is formed between the bodies. Well, however rapidly it streamed together with swift-circling
currents, yet the whole space will not be able to be filled up in one moment, for it must occupy
first one spot and then another until the hole is taken up. But if happily, anyone supposes
that when the bodies have started asunder,
that result follows because the air condenses,
he is mistaken, for a void is then formed which was not before,
and a void also is filled which existed before.
Nor can the air condense in such a way,
nor supposing it could, could it methinks, without void,
draw into itself and bring its parts together.
Wherefore, however long you hold out by urging many objections,
you must needs in the end admit that there is a void in things.
And many more arguments I may stay to you in order to accumulate proof on my words.
But these slight footprints are enough for a keen searching mind
to enable you by yourself to find out all the rest.
For as dogs, often discover by smell,
the lair of a mountain-ranging wild beast,
though covered over with leaves,
when once they have got on the sure tracks. Thus you in cases like this will be able by yourself alone
to see one thing after another and find your way into all dark corners and draw forth the truth.
But if you lag or swerve a jot from the reality, this I can promise you, Memmius, without much ado,
such plenteous draughts of abundant wellsprings my sweet tongue shall pour from my richly furnished breast,
that I fear slow age will steal over our limbs and break open in us the fastnesses of life,
ere the whole store of reasons on any one question has by my verse has been dropped into your ears.
But now to resume the thread of the design which I am weaving in verse.
All nature, then, as it exists by itself, is founded on two things.
There are bodies, there is void, in which these bodies are placed.
and through which they move about. For that body exists by itself, the general feeling of mankind
declares. And unless at the very first belief in this be firmly grounded, there will be nothing
to which we can appeal on hidden things in order to prove anything by reasoning of mind.
Then again, if room and space, which we call void did not exist, bodies could not be placed anywhere,
nor move about it all to any side, as we have demonstrated to you a little before.
Moreover, there is nothing which you can affirm to be at once separate from all body,
and quite distinct from void, which would so to say count as the discovery of a third nature.
For whatever shall exist, this of itself must be something or other.
Now, if it shall admit of touch in however slight and small a measure, it will be,
be it with a large or be it with a little addition, provided it do exist, increase the amount of body
and join the sum. But if it shall be intangible and unable to hinder anything from passing through it
on any side, this you are to know will be that which we call empty void. Again, whatever shall
exist by itself will either do something, or will itself suffer by the action of other things,
or will be of such a nature as things are able to exist and go on in.
But no thing can do and suffer without body, nor ought furnish room except void and vacancy.
Therefore, beside void and bodies, no third nature taken by itself can be left in the
number of things, either such as to fall at any time under the can of our senses, or such as
anyone can grasp by the reason of his mind. For whatever things are named, you will either find
to be properties linked to these two things, or you will see to be accidents of these things.
That is a property, which can in no case be disjoined and separated without utter destruction
accompanying the severance, such as the weight of a stone, the heat of fire, the fluidity of water.
on the other hand, poverty and riches, liberty, war, concord, and all other things which may
come and go while the nature of a thing remains unharmed. These we are won't, as it is right we should,
to call accidents. Time also exists, not by itself, but simply from the things which happen.
The sense apprehends what has been done in time past, as well as what is present and what is to
follow after, and we must admit that no one feels time by itself abstracted from the motion and
calm rest of things. So when they say that the daughter of Tindaris was ravished and the
Trojan nations were subdued in war, we must mind that they do not force us to admit that
these things are by themselves, since those generations of men, of whom these things were accidents,
time now gone by has irrevocably swept away. For whatever shall have been done may be termed
an accident in one case of the Turkran people in another of the country simply. Yes, for if there had been
no matter of things and no room and space in which things severally go on, never had the fire
kindled by love of the beauty of Tindaris's daughter, blazed beneath the Phrygian breast of
Alexander and lighted up the famous struggles of cruel war, nor had the timber horse unknown to
the Trojans wrapped pergamma in flames by its night issuing brood of sons of the Greeks.
So that you may clearly perceive that all actions from first to last exist not by themselves
and are not by themselves in the way that body is, nor are terms of the same kind as void is,
but are rather of such a kind that you may fairly call them accidents of body and of the room in which they
severally go on. Bodies again are partly first beginnings of things, partly those which are
formed of a union of first beginnings, but those which are first beginnings of things no force can quench,
and they are sure to have the better by their solid body. Although it seems difficult to believe,
that ought can be found among things with a solid body. For the lightning of heaven passes through
the walls of houses, as well as noise and voices. Iron grows red-hot in the fire and stones burn with
fierce heat and burst asunder. The hardness of gold is broken up and dissolved by heat. The ice
of brass melts vanquished by the flame. Warmth and piercing cold ooze through silver.
since we have both felt, as we held cups with the hand in due fashion, and the water was poured
down into them. So universally there is found to be nothing solid in things, but yet because
true reason and the nature of things constrains, attend until we make clear in a few verses,
that there are such things as consist of solid and everlasting body, which we teach our seeds of things
and first beginnings, out of which the whole sum of things which now exists has been produced.
End of Section 3. Section 4 of On the Nature of Things by Titus Lucretius Karras.
This Librovox recording is in the public domain read by Pamela Nagami. Book 1, Part 4.
First of all, then, since there has been found to exist a two-fold and widely dissimilar nature,
of two things, that is to say of body, and of place in which things severally go on,
each of the two must exist for and by itself and quite unmixed. For wherever there is
empty space which we call void, their body is not. Wherever again body maintains itself,
their empty void no wise exists. First bodies therefore are solid and without void. Again,
since there is void in things begotten, solid matter must exist about this void, and no thing can be
proved by true reason to conceal in its body and have within it void, unless you choose to allow that
that which holds it in is solid. Again, that can be nothing, but a union of matter which can keep
in the void of things. Matter, therefore, which consists of a solid body may be everlasting,
though all things else are dissolved. Moreover, if there were no empty void, the universe would be
solid. Unless, on the other hand, there were certain bodies to fill up whatever places they
occupied, the existing universe would be empty and void space. Therefore, sure enough, body and void
are marked off in alternate layers, since the universe is neither of a perfect fullness nor a perfect void.
there are therefore certain bodies which can vary void space with full these can neither be broken in pieces by the stroke of blows from without nor have their texture undone by aught piercing to their core nor give away before any other kind of assault as we have proved to you a little before
For without void, nothing seems to admit of being crushed in or broken up or split into by cutting,
or of taking in wet or permeating cold, or penetrating fire, by which all things are destroyed.
And the more anything contains within it of void, the more thoroughly it gives way to the assault of these things.
Therefore, if first bodies are, as I have shown solid and without void, they must,
be everlasting. Again, unless matter had been eternal, all things before this would have utterly
returned to nothing, and whatever things we see would have been born anew from nothing.
But since I have proved above that nothing can be produced from nothing, and that what is
begotten cannot be recalled to nothing, first beginnings must be of an imperishable body,
to which all things can be dissolved at their last hour, that there may be a supply of matter
for the reproduction of things. Therefore, first beginnings are of solid singleness, and in no other
way can they have been preserved through ages during infinite time past in order to reproduce
things. Again, if nature had set no limit to the breaking of things, by this time, the bodies of matter
would have been so far reduced by the breaking of past ages, that nothing could within a fixed time
be conceived out of them and reach its utmost growth of being. For we see that anything is more
quickly destroyed than again renewed, and therefore that which the long, the infinite duration of all
bygone time had broken up, demolished and destroyed, could never be reproduced in all remaining time.
But now, sure enough, a fixed limit to their breaking has been set, since we see each thing renewed,
and at the same time, definite periods fixed, for things each after its kind to reach the flower of their age.
Moreover, while the bodies of matter are most solid, it may yet be explained in what way all things which are formed soft,
as air, water, earth, fires, are so formed, and by what we are,
what force they severally go on, since once for all there is void mixed up in things.
But on the other hand, if the first beginnings of things be soft, it cannot be explained out of
what enduring basalt or iron can be produced, for their whole nature will utterly lack a first
foundation to begin with. First beginnings, therefore, are strong in solid singleness, and by a denser
combination of these all things can be closely packed and exhibit enduring strength.
Again, if no limit has been set to the breaking of bodies, nevertheless, the several bodies
which go to things must survive from eternity up to the present time, not yet assailed by any
danger. But since they are possessed of a frail nature, it is not consistent with this that they
could have continued through eternity, harassed through ages by countless blows. Again, too,
since a limit of growing and sustaining life has been assigned to things each after its kind,
and since by the laws of nature it stands decreed what they can each do and what they cannot do,
and since nothing is changed, but all things are so constant that the different birds all in
succession exhibit in their body the distinctive marks of their kind, they must sure enough
have a body of unchangeable matter also. For if the first beginnings of things could in any way
be vanquished and changed, it would then be uncertain to what could and what could not arise
into being, in short, on what principle each thing has its powers defined, its deep-set boundary mark.
nor could the generations produce so often each after its kind the nature, habits, way of life,
and motions of the parents. Then again, since there is ever a bounding point to bodies which
appears to us to be a least, there ought in the same way to be a bounding point, the least conceivable,
to that first body, which already is beyond what our senses can perceive. That point sure enough is without
parts and consists of a least nature and never has existed a part by itself and will not be able in
future so to exist, since it is in itself a part of that other, and so a first and single part,
and then other and other similar parts in succession fill up in close, serried mass, the nature of the
first body, and since these cannot exist by themselves, they must cleave to that from which they cannot
in any way be torn. First beginnings, therefore, are of a solid singleness, masked together,
and cohering closely by means of least parts, not compounded out of a union of those parts,
but rather strong and everlasting singleness. From them, nature allows nothing to be torn,
nothing further to be worn away, reserving them as seeds for things. Again, unless there shall be a least
the very smallest bodies will consist of infinite parts. Inasmuch as the half of the half will always
have a half, and nothing will set bounds to the division. Therefore, between the sum of things
and the least of things, what difference will there be? There will be no distinction at all.
For how absolutely infinite soever the whole sum is, yet the things which are smallest will
equally consist of infinite parts. Now, since on this head true reason protests and denies that the mind
can believe it, you must yield and admit that there exist such things as are possessed of no parts
and are of a least nature. And since these exist, those first bodies also you must admit to be
solid and everlasting. Once more, if nature, creatress of things, had been wont to compel all
things to be broken up into least parts, then, too, she would be unable to reproduce anything
out of those parts, because those things which are enriched with no parts cannot have the
properties which begetting matter ought to have. I mean, the various entanglements,
weights, blows, clashings, motions, by means of which things severally go on.
For which reasons they who have held fire to be the matter of things, and the sum to be formed
out of fire alone, are seen to have strayed most widely from true reason. At the head of whom
enters Heraclitus to do battle, famous for obscurity more among the frivolous than the earnest
Greeks who seek the truth. For fools admire and like all things the more which they perceive to be
concealed under involved language, and determine things to be true, which can prettily tickle the ears
and are varnished over with finely sounding phrase. For I want to know how things can be so
various if they are formed out of fire, one and unmixed. It would avail nothing for hot fire to be
condensed or rarefied if the same nature which the whole fire has belonged to the parts of fire as well.
The heat would be more intense by compression of parts, more faint by their severance and dispersion.
More than this, you cannot think it in the power of such causes to effect.
Far less could so great a diversity of things come from mere density and rarity of fires.
observe also, if they suppose void to be mixed up in things, fire may then be condensed and left rare,
but because they see many things rise up in contradiction to them, and shrink from leaving
unmixed void in things, fearing the steep, they lose the true road. And do not perceive, on the other
hand, that if void is taken from things, all things are condensed, and out of all things is
formed one single body, which cannot briskly radiate anything from it in the way heat-giving fire
emits light and warmth, letting you see that it is not of closely compressed parts.
But if they happily think that in some other way fires may be quenched in the union and change
their body, you are to know that if they shall scruple on no side to do this,
all heat sure enough will be utterly brought to nothing.
and all things that are produced will be formed out of nothing.
For whenever a thing changes and quits its proper limits,
at once this change of state is the death of that which was before.
Therefore, something or other must needs be left to those fires of theirs undestroyed,
that you may not have all things absolutely returning to nothing,
and the whole store of things born anew and flourishing out of nothing.
Since then, in fact, there are some most unquestionable bodies which always preserve the same nature,
on whose going or coming and change of order, things change their nature, and bodies are transformed.
You are to know that these first bodies of things are not a fire.
For it would matter nothing that some should withdraw and go away, and others should be added on,
and some should have their order changed, if one and all they yet retain the nature of heat,
for whatever they produced would be altogether fire. But thus methinks it is. There are certain bodies
whose clashings, motions, order, position, and shapes produce fires, and which by a change of order
change the nature of the things, and do not resemble fire, nor anything else which has the power of
sending bodies to our senses and touching by its contact our sense of touch.
End of Section 4. Section 5 of On the Nature of Things by Titus Lucretius Karras.
This Libra Box recording is in the public domain, read by Pamela Nogami.
Book 1, Part 5. Again to say that all things are fire, and that no real thing except fire
exists in the number of things, as this same man does, appears to be sheer dotage.
For he himself takes his stand on the side of the senses to fight against the senses and
shakes their authority, on which rests all our belief. I, from which this fire, as he calls it,
is known to himself. For he believes that the senses can truly perceive fire. He does not believe
they can perceive all other things which are not a wit less clear.
Now this appears to me to be as false as it is foolish.
For to what shall we appeal?
What surer test can we have than the senses, whereby to know truth and falsehood?
Again, why should anyone rather abolish all things and choose to leave the single nature of
heat than deny that fires exist, while he allows anything else to be?
It seems to be equal madness to affirm either this or that.
For these reasons, they who have held that fire is the matter of things
and that the sum can be formed out of fire,
and they who have determined air to be the first beginning and beginning things,
and all who have held, that water by itself alone forms things,
or that earth produces all things and changes into all the different natures of things
appear to have strayed exceedingly wide of the truth, as well as they who make the first beginnings
of things twofold, coupling air with fire and earth with water, and they who believe that all
things grow out of four things, fire, earth, air, and water, chief of whom as Agrigentine
Empedocles, him within the three-cornered shores of its lands that island bore, about which the
Ionian Sea flows in large cranklings and splashes up brine from its green waves.
Here the sea, racing in its straightened frith, divides by its waters the shores of Italia's
lands from the other coasts. Here is wasteful Carybdis, and here the rumblings of Aetna threaten anew
to gather up such a fury of flames as again with force to belch forth the fires bursting from its
throat, and carry up to heaven once more the lightnings of flame.
Now, though this great country is seen to deserve in many ways the wonder of mankind,
and is held to be well worth visiting, rich in all good things, guarded by large force of
men, yet seems it to have held within it nothing more glorious than this man,
nothing more holy, marvelous, and dear.
The verses two of his godlike genius cry with a loud voice and set forth in such wise his
glorious discoveries that he hardly seems born of a mortal stock. Yet he and those whom we have
mentioned above, immeasurably inferior and far beneath him, although the authors of many
excellent and godlike discoveries, they have given responses from, so to say, their hearts
Holy of Holies with more sanctity and on much more unerring grounds than the Pythia,
who speaks out from the tripod and laurel of Phoebus, have yet gone to ruin in the first
beginnings of things. It is there they have fallen, and great themselves, great and heavy,
has been that fall. First, because they have banished void from things, and yet assigned to them
motions, and allow things soft and rare, air, sun, sun, fire, earth,
living things, and corn, and yet mix not up void in their body. Next, because they suppose that there is
no limit to the division of bodies, and no stop set to their breaking, and that there exists
no least at all in things. Though we see that that is the bounding point of anything which seems
to be leased to our senses, so that from this you may infer that because the things which you do not see
have a bounding point there is a least in them. Moreover, since they assign soft first beginnings of
things which we see to have birth and to be of a body altogether mortal, the sum of things
must in that case revert to nothing, and the store of things be born anew and flourish out of
nothing. How wide now of the truth. Both these doctrines are you will already comprehend.
In the next place, these bodies are in many ways mutually hostile.
and poisonous, and therefore they will either perish when they have met, or will fly asunder,
just as we see, when a storm has gathered, lightnings and rains, and winds fly asunder.
Again, if all things are produced from four things, and all again broken up into those things,
how can they be called first beginnings of things any more than things be called their first
beginnings, the supposition being reversed? For they are begotten,
time about and interchange color and then whole nature without ceasing. But if happily you suppose
that the body of fire and of earth and air and the moisture of water meet in such a way that none of them
in the union changes its nature, no thing I tell you can be then produced out of them, neither living
thing nor thing with inanimate body as a tree. In fact, each thing amid the medley of this discordant
mass will display its own nature, an air will be seen to be mixed up with earth and heat to remain
in union with moisture. But first beginnings ought in begetting things to bring with them a latent
and unseen nature in order that no things stand out to be in the way and prevent whatever is
produced from having its own proper being. Moreover, they go back to heaven and its fires for a
beginning, and first suppose that fire changes into air, next that from air, water is begotten,
and earth is produced out of water, and that all in reverse order come back from earth,
water first, next air, then heat, and that these cease not to interchange, to pass from heaven to
earth, from earth to the stars of ether, all which first beginnings must on no account do,
since something unchangeable must needs remain over, that things may not utterly be brought back to nothing.
For whenever a thing changes and quits its proper limits, at once this change of state is the death of that which was before.
Wherefore, since those things which we have mentioned a little before, pass into a state of change,
they must be formed out of others that cannot in any case be transformed.
that you may not have things returning altogether to nothing.
Why not rather hold that there are certain bodies possessed of such a nature
that if they have happily produced fire,
the same may after a few have been taken away and if you added on,
and the order in motion changed, produce air,
and that all other things may in the same way interchange with one another?
But plain matter of fact clearly proves you,
that all things grow up into the air and are fed out of the earth, and unless the season at the
propitious period sends such abundant showers that the trees reel beneath the soaking storms of rain,
and unless the sun on its part foster them and supply heat, corn, trees, and living things could not
grow. Quite true. And unless solid food and soft water should recruit us, our substance would waste away,
and life break wholly up out of all the sinews and bones,
for we beyond doubt are recruited and fed by certain things.
This and that other thing by certain other things,
because many first beginnings common to many things in many ways are mixed up in things.
Therefore, sure enough, different things are fed by different things,
and it often makes a great difference with what things and in what position,
the same first beginnings are held in union, and what motions they mutually impart and receive.
For the same make up heaven, sea, lands, rivers, sun. The same make up corn, trees, and living things.
But they are mixed up with different things and in different ways as they move.
Nay, you see throughout, even in these verses of ours, many elements common to many words,
though you must needs admit that the lines and words differ one from the other, both in meaning
and in sound wherewith they sound. So much can elements effect by a mere change of order,
but those elements which are the first beginnings of things can bring with them more combinations
out of which different things can severally be produced. Let us now examine the homeomerea
of Anaxagoras as the Greeks term it, which the poverty of our native speech does not allow us to
name in our own tongue, though it is easy enough to set forth in words the thing itself.
First of all, then, when he speaks of the home meomerea of things, you must know he supposes
bones to be formed out of very small and minute bones, and flesh of very small and minute
fleshes and blood by the coming together of many drops of blood and gold, he thinks, can be
composed of grains of gold, and earth be a concretion of small earths, and fires can come from fires,
and water from waters, and everything else he fancies and supposed to be produced on a like
principle. And yet, at the same time he does not allow that void exists anywhere in things,
or that there is a limit to the division of things.
Wherefore he appears to me on both these grounds to be as much mistaken as those whom we have
already spoken of above.
Moreover, the first beginnings which he supposes are too frail, if first beginnings they
be which are possessed of a nature like to the things themselves, and are just as liable
to suffering and death, and which nothing reigns back from destruction.
for which of them will hold out so as to escape death beneath so strong a pressure within the very jaws of destruction,
fire or water or air, which of these, blood or bones?
Not one methinks where everything will be just as essentially mortal as those things which we see with the senses
perish before our eyes, vanquished by some force.
But I appeal to facts demonstrated above,
for proof that things cannot fall away to nothing, nor, on the other hand, grow from nothing.
Again, since food gives increase and nourishment to the body, you are to know that our veins and
blood and bones and the like are formed of things foreign to them in kind. Or if they shall say
that all foods are of a mixed body, and contain in them small bodies of sinews and bones
and veins as well and particles of blood, it will follow that all food, solid as well as liquid,
must be held to be composed of things foreign to them in kind, of bones, that is, and sinews
and matter and blood mixed up. Again, if all the bodies which grow out of the earth are in the
earths, the earth must be composed of things foreign to it in kind which grow out of these
earths. Apply again this reasoning to other things, and you may use just the same words. If flame and smoke and
ash are latent in woods, woods must necessarily be composed of things foreign to them in kind.
Again, all those bodies to which the earth gives food, it increases out of things foreign to them
in kind, which rise out of the earth. Thus too, the bodies of flame which issue from the woods are
out of things foreign to them in kind, which rise out of these woods. Here some slight opening
is left for evasion, which Anaxagoras avails himself of, choosing to suppose that all things,
though latent, are mixed up in things, and that is alone visible of which there are the largest
number of bodies in the mixture, and these more ready in hand and stationed in the first rank.
This, however, is far banished from true reason. For then it were natural,
that corn, too, should often, when crushed by the formidable force of the stone, show some
mark of blood, or some other of the things which have their nourishment in our body.
For like reasons it were fitted, that from grasses too, when we rub them between two stones,
blood should ooze out, that waters should yield sweet drops and flavor-like to the udder of
milk and sheep. Yes, and that often when clods of earth have been crumbled,
kinds of grasses and corn and leaves should be found to lurk distributed among the earth in minute quantities.
And lastly, that ash and smoke and minute fires should be found latent in woods when they were broken off.
Now, since plain matter of fact teaches that none of these results follows,
you are to know that things are not so mixed up in things, but rather seeds, common to many things,
must in many ways be mixed up and latent in things.
But it often comes to pass on high mountains, you say,
that contiguous tops of tall trees rubbed together,
the strong south winds constraining them so to do
until the flower of flame has broken out
and they have burst into a blaze.
Quite true, and yet fire is not innate in woods,
but there are many seeds of heat,
and when they by rubbing have streamed together,
they produce conflagrations in the forests.
But if the flame was stored up ready-made in the forests,
the fire could not be concealed for any length of time,
but would destroy forests, burn up trees indiscriminately.
Do you now see, as we have said a little before,
that it makes a very great difference,
with what things, and in what position,
the same first beginnings are held in union,
and what motions they mutually impart and receive, and that the same may when a little changed
in arrangement produce, say, fires, and a fur. Just as the words two consist of elements,
only a little changed in arrangement, though we denote furs and fires with two quite distinct names.
Once again, if you suppose that whatever you perceive among visible things cannot be produced
without imagining bodies of matter possessed of a like nature. In this way you will find
the first beginnings of things are destroyed. It will come to this, that they will be shaken by
loud fits of convulsive laughter and will bedew with salt tears, face, and cheeks.
End of Section 5. Section 6 of On the Nature of Things by Titus Lucretius Karras.
This Libro-Box recording is in the public domain.
read by Pamela Nagami. Book 1, Part 6. Now Mark and learn what remains to be known, and hear it more distinctly.
Nor does my mind fail to perceive how dark the things are. But the great hope of praise has smitten my heart
with sharp thyrs, and at the same time has struck into my breast, sweet love of the muses,
with which now inspired I traverse in blooming thought the pathless haunts of the Purities,
never yet trodden by soul of man.
I love to approach the untasted springs, and to coiff.
I love to cull fresh flowers and gather for my head a distinguished crown from spots
once the muses have yet failed the brows of none.
First, because I teach of great things, an essay to release the mind from the fast bond,
of religious scruples. And next, because on a dark subject, I pen such lucid verses overlaying
all with the muse's charm. For that, too, would seem to be not without good grounds. Just as physicians,
when they propose to give nauseous wormwood to children, first smear the rim round the bowl with the sweet
yellow juice of honey, that the unthinking age of children may be fooled as far as the lips,
and meanwhile, drink up the bitter draft of Wormwood, and though beguiled yet not be betrayed,
but rather by such means recover health and strength. So I now, since this doctrine seems generally
somewhat bitter to those by whom it has not been handled, and the multitude shrinks back from it
in dismay, have resolved to set forth to you our doctrine in sweet-tone perian verse,
and overlay it, as it were, with the pleasant heart.
honey of the muses, if happily by such means I might engage your mind on my verses,
till you clearly perceive the whole nature of things, its shape and frame.
But since I have taught that most solid bodies of matter fly about forever, unvanquished
through all time, mark now, let us unfold whether there is or is not any limit to their
sum. Likewise, let us clearly see whether that which has been found to be void,
or room and space in which things severally go on, is all of it altogether finite, or stretches
without limits to an unfathomable depth? Well then, the existing universe is bounded in none of its
dimensions, for then it must have had an outside. Again, it is seen that there can be an
outside of nothing, unless there be something beyond to bound it, so that that is seen farther than which the
nature of this our sense does not follow the thing. Now, since we must admit that there is nothing
outside the sum, it has no outside, and therefore is without end and limit. And it matters not in which
of its regions you take your stand. So invariably, whatever position anyone is taken up,
he leaves the universe just as infinite as before in all directions. Again, if for the moment all
existing space be held to be bounded, supposing a man runs forward to its outside borders,
and stands on the utmost verge, and then throws a winged javelin.
Do you choose that when hurled with vigorous force it shall advance to the point to which it has
been sent and fly to a distance, or do you decide that something can get in its way and stop it?
For you must admit and adopt one of the two suppositions, either of which
shuts you out from all escape and compels you to grant that the universe stretches without end.
For whether there is something to get in its way and prevent its coming whether it was sent
and placing itself in the point intended, or whether it is carried forward. In either case,
it has not started from the end. In this way I will go on and wherever you have placed the
outside borders, I will ask what then becomes of the javelin.
The result will be that an end can nowhere be fixed, and that the room given for flight will
still prolong the power of flight. Lastly, one thing is seen by the eyes to end another thing.
Air bounds off hills and mountains air. Earth limits sea and see again all lands. The universe,
however, there is nothing outside to end. Again, if all the space of the whole sum were enclosed
within fixed borders and were bounded. In that case, the store of matter by its solid weights
would have streamed together from all sides to the lowest point, nor could anything have gone on
under the canopy of heaven. No, nor would there have been a heaven, nor sunlight at all,
in as much as all matter, settling down through infinite time past, would lie together in a heap.
But as it is, sure enough, no rest is given to the bodies of the bodies of the world.
the first beginnings, because there is no lowest point at all to which they might stream together,
as it were, and where they might take up their positions. All things are ever going on in ceaseless
motion on all sides, and bodies of matter stirred to action are supplied from beneath out of
infinite space. Therefore, the nature of room and the space of the unfathomable void are such as
bright thunderbolts cannot race through in their course, though gliding on through endless tract of time,
no nor less in one jot the journey that remains to go by all their travel, so huge a room
is spread out on all sides for things without any bounds in all directions round.
Again, nature keeps the sum of things from setting any limit to itself.
since she compels body to be ended by void and void and turned by body, so that either she thus renders
a universe infinite by this alternation of the two, or else the one of the two, in case the other does
not bound it, with its single nature stretches nevertheless immeasurably.
But void I have already proved to be infinite. Therefore matter must be infinite, for if void were
infinite and matter finite, neither sea nor earth, nor the glittering quarters of heaven,
nor mortal kind, nor the holy bodies of the gods could hold their ground one brief passing hour.
Since forced asunder from its union, the store of matter would be dissolved and borne along
the mighty void, or rather I should say, would never have combined to produce anything.
Since scattered abroad, it could never have been brought together.
For verily, not by design did the first beginnings of things station themselves each in its right place, guided by keen intelligence.
Nor did they bargain, sooth to say, what motions each should assume. But because many in number and shifting about in many ways throughout the universe, they are driven and tormented by blows during infinite time past.
after trying motions and unions of every kind, at length, they fall into arrangements such as those
out of which this hour sum of things has been formed, and by which too it is preserved through
many great years when once it has been thrown into the appropriate motions, and causes the
streams to replenish the greedy sea with copious river waters, and the earth, fostered by the heat of
the sun to renew its produce, and the race of living things to come up and flourish, and the
gliding fires of ether to live, all which these several things could in no eyes bring to pass,
unless a store of matter could rise up from infinite space, out of which store they are wont
to make up in due season whatever has been lost. For as the nature of living things when robbed
of food loses its substance and wastes away. Thus all things must be broken up, as soon as matter has
ceased to be supplied, diverted in any way from its proper course. Nor can blows from without hold
together all the sum which has been brought into union. They can, it is true, frequently strike upon
and stay apart, until others come and the sum can be completed. At times, however, they are compelled to
rebound, and in so doing, grant to the first beginnings of things, room, and time for flight,
to enable them to get clear away from the mass and union.
Wherefore again and again, I repeat, many bodies must rise up, nay, for the blows themselves
not to fail, there is need of an infinite supply of matter on all sides.
And here in Memius, be far from believing this, that all things as they say,
pressed to the center of the sum, and that for this reason the nature of the world stands fast
without any strokes from the outside, and the uppermost and lowest parts cannot part asunder
in any direction, because all things have been always pressing toward the center, if you believe
that anything can rest upon itself. Or that the heavy bodies which are beneath the earth
all press upwards and are at rest on the earth, turned topsy-turvy, just like the images of things we see
before us in the waters. In the same way they maintain that living things walk head downwards and
cannot tumble out of the earth into the parts of heaven lying below them any more than our bodies
can spontaneously fly into the quarters of heaven, that when those see the sun, we behold the stars of
night, and that they share with us time about the seasons of heaven and past nights equal in length
to our days. But groundless error has devised such dream.
for fools, because they have embraced false principles of reason. For there can be no center where the
universe is infinite. No, nor even if there were a center, could anything take up a position there,
any more on that account than for some quite different reason be driven away. For all room and space,
which we term void, must through center, through no center alike, give place to heavy bodies
and whatever directions their motions tend.
Nor is there any spot of such a sort
that when bodies have reached it,
they can lose their force of gravity
and stand upon void.
And that again which is void
must not serve to support anything,
but must as its nature craves
continually give place.
Things cannot, therefore,
in such a way be held in union,
or mastered by love of a center.
Again, since they do not suppose
that all bodies pressed to the center, but only those of earth and those of water, both such as
descend to the earth and rain, and those which are held in by the earth's body, so to say,
the fluid of the sea and the great waters from the mountains. While on the other hand they teach
that the subtle element of air and hot fires at the same time are carried away from the center,
and that for this reason the whole ether round bickers with signs, and the sun's flame is fed
through the blue of heaven, because heat flying from the center all gathers together there,
and that the topmost boughs of trees could not put forth leaves at all, unless from time to time
nature supplied food from the earth to each, throughout both stem and boughs, their reasons are not
only false, but they contradict each other. Space I have already proved to be infinite,
and space being infinite, matter, as I have said, must also be infinite.
lest after the winged fashion of flames, the walls of the world should suddenly break up and fly abroad
along the mighty void, and all other things follow for like reasons, and the innermost quarters of
heaven tumble in from above, and the earth in an instant withdraw from beneath our feet,
and amid the commingled ruin of things in it and of heaven, ruins unloosing the first bodies,
should wholly pass away along the unfathomable void, so that in a moment of time not a rack should be left behind,
nothing save untenanted space and viewless first beginnings. For on whatever side you shall first
determine first bodies to be wanting, this side will be the gate of death for things. Through this,
the whole crowd of matter will fling itself abroad. If you will thoroughly con these
things, then carried to the end with slight trouble, you will be able by yourself to understand all the
rest. For one thing after another will grow clear, and dark night will not rob you of the road
and keep you from surveying the utmost ends of nature. In such wise, things will light the torch for
other things. End of Section 6. Section 7 of On the Nature of Things by Titus Lucretius'
This Libravox recording is in the public domain, read by Pamela Nagami.
Book 2, Part 1
It is sweet when on the Great Sea the winds trouble its waters, to behold from land another's deep distress.
Not that it is a pleasure and delight that any should be afflicted, but because it is sweet
to see from what evils you are yourself exempt, it is sweet also to look upon the mighty
struggles of war arrayed along the plains without sharing yourself in the danger. But nothing is more
welcome than to hold the lofty and serene positions well fortified by the learning of the wise,
from which you may look down upon others, and see them wandering all abroad and going astray in their
search for the path of life, see the contest among them of intellect, the rivalry of birth,
the striving night and day with surpassing effort to struggle up to the summit of power and be masters of the world.
O miserable minds of men, oh, blinded breasts, in what darkness of life, and in how great dangers
is past this term of life, whatever its duration. Not choose to see that nature craves for
herself no more than this, that pain hold aloof from the body, and, you know,
she and mind enjoy a feeling of pleasure exempt from care and fear. Therefore we see that for the body's
nature few things are needed at all, such and such only as take away pain. Nay, though more
gratefully at times they may minister to us many choice delights. Nature for her part wants them not,
when there are no golden images of use through the house holding in their right hands flaming
lamps for supply of light to the nightly banquet. When the house shines not with silver nor glitters
with gold, nor do the panelled and gilded roofs re-echo to the harp. What time though these things be
wanting? They spread themselves in groups on the soft grass beside a stream of water, under the boughs of a
high tree, and at no great cost, pleasantly refresh their bodies. Above all, when the weather smiles and the
seasons of the year besprinkle the green grass with flowers. Nor do hot fever sooner quit the body
if you toss about on pictured tapestry and blushing purple than if you must lie under a poor
man's blanket. Wherefore, since treasures avail nothing in respect of our body, nor birth, nor
glory of kingly power, advancing farther, you must hold that they are of no service to the mind as well,
unless may be when you see your legions swarm over the ground of the campus waging the mimicry of war,
strengthened flank and rear by powerful reserves and great force of cavalry,
and you marshal them equipped in arms and animated with one spirit,
thereupon you find that religious scruples, scared by these things, fly panic-stricken from the mind,
and that then fears of death leave the breast unembarrassed and free from care when you see,
your fleet swarm forth and spread itself far and wide. But if we see that these things are food for
laughter in mere mockeries, and in good truth, the fears of men and dogging cares dread not the
clash of arms and cruel weapons, if unabashed, they mix among kings and kisors and stand not in awe
of the glitter from gold, nor the brilliant sheen of the purple robe, how can you doubt that
this is wholly the prerogative of reason when the whole of life with all is a struggle in the dark.
For even as children are flurried and dread all things in the thick darkness, thus we in the
daylight, fear at times, things not a whit more to be dreaded than those which children
shudder at in the dark and fancy sure to be. This terror, therefore, and darkness of mind
must be dispelled not by the rays of the sun and glittering shafts of day, but by the aspect and
law of nature. Now Mark, and I will explain by what motion the begetting bodies of matter do
beget different things and after they are begotten again break them up, and by what force they
are compelled so to do, and what velocity is given to them for traveling through the great void.
Do you mind to give he to my words?
For verily, matter does not cohere inseparably massed together,
since we see that everything wanes,
and perceive that all things ebb as it were by length of time,
and that age withdraws them from our sight,
though yet the sun is seen to remain unimpaired by reason
that the bodies which quit each thing,
lessen the things from which they go,
gift with increase those to which they have come,
compel the former to grow old,
the latter to come to their prime,
and yet abide not with ease.
Thus the sum of things is ever renewed,
and mortals live by a reciprocal dependency.
Some nations wax, others wane,
and in a brief space the races of living things are changed,
and like runners, hand over the lamp of life.
If you think that first beginnings of things can lag and by lagging give birth to new motions of things,
you wander far astray from the path of true reason. Since they travel about through void,
the first beginnings of things must all move on, either by their own weight or happily by the stroke of another.
For when during motion they have, as often happens, met and clashed. The result is a sudden rebounding in an opposite direction,
and no wonder, since they are most hard and of weight proportioned to their solidity,
and nothing behind gets in their way.
And that you may more clearly see that all bodies of matter are in restless movement,
remember that there is no lowest point in the sum of the universe,
and that first bodies have not where to take their stand.
Since space is without end and limit,
and extends immeasurably in all directions round, as I have shown in many words, and has been proved by
sure reason. Since this then is a certain truth, sure enough, no rest is given to first bodies
throughout the unfathomable void. But, driven on rather in ceaseless and varied motion,
they partly after they have pressed together rebound, leaving great spaces between, while in part
they are so dashed away after the stroke as to leave but small spaces between. And all that form a
denser aggregation when brought together and rebound leaving trifling spaces between, held fast by
their own close tangled shapes, these form enduring bases of stone and unyielding bodies of iron,
and the rest of their class, few in number, which travel onward along the great void. All the others spring
far off and rebound far, leaving great spaces between. These furnish us with thin air and bright
sunlight. And many more travel along the great void, which have been thrown off by the unions of things,
or though admitted, have yet in no case been able likewise to assimilate their motions.
Of this truth which I am telling, we have a representation and picture always going on,
and present before our eyes and present to us.
Observe, whenever the rays are let in,
and pour the sunlight through the dark chambers of houses,
you will see many minute bodies in many ways
through the apparent void mingle in the midst of the light of the rays,
and as in never-ending conflicts skirmished,
and give battle, combating in troops and never halting,
driven about in frequent meetings and partings, so that you may guess from this what it is for
first beginnings of things to be ever tossing about in the great void. So far as it goes,
a small thing may give an illustration of great things and put you on the track of knowledge.
And for this reason, too, it is meat that you should give greater heed to these bodies
which are seen to tumble about in the sun's rays, because,
because such tumblings imply that motions also of matter latent and unseen are at the bottom.
For you will observe many things they're impelled by unseen blows to change their course,
and driven back to return the way they came, now this way, now that, in all directions round.
All you are to know, derive this restlessness from the first beginnings.
For the first beginnings of things move first of themselves,
next those bodies which form a small aggregate and come nearest, so to say, to the powers of the
first beginnings, are impelled and set in motion by the unseen strokes of those first bodies,
and they, next in turn, stir up bodies which are a little larger. Thus motion mounts up from the
first beginnings and step by step issues forth to our senses, so that those bodies also move,
which we can discern in the sunlight, though it is not clearly seen by what blows they so act.
Now what velocity is given to bodies of matter you may apprehend, Memeus, in few words from this.
When morning first sprinkles the earth with fresh light, and the different birds,
flitting about the pathless woods through the buxom air fill all places with their clear notes,
we see it to be plain and evident to all, how suddenly the sun after rising is won't at such a time
to overspread all things and clothe them with his light. But that heat which the sun emits,
and that bright light pass not through empty void, and therefore they are forced to travel more slowly,
until they cleave through the waves, so to speak of air. Nor do the several minute bodies of heat
pass on one by one, but closely entangled and massed together, whereby at one in the same time,
they are pulled back by one another and are impeded from without, so that they are forced to travel more
slowly. But the first beginnings which are of solid singleness, when they pass through empty void,
and nothing delays them from without, and they themselves single from the nature of their parts,
are born with headlong endeavor toward the one single spot to which their efforts,
tend, must sure enough surpass in velocity and be carried along much more swiftly than the light of
the sun, and race through many times the extent of space in the same time in which the beams
of the sun fill the heaven throughout, nor follow up the several first beginnings to see by
which law each thing goes on. But some in opposition to this, ignorant of matter,
believe that nature cannot, without the providence of the gods, in such nice conformity to the ways of men,
vary the seasons of the year, and bring forth crops, I and all the other things which divine pleasure,
the guide of life, prompts men to approach, escorting them in person and enticing them by their fondlings
to continue their races through the arts of Venus, that mankind may not come to an end.
now when they suppose that the gods designed all things for the sake of men, they seem to me in all respects to have strayed most widely from true reason.
For even if I did not know what first beginnings are, yet this, judging by the very arrangements of heaven, I would venture to affirm, and led by many other circumstances to maintain, that the nature of the world has by no means been made for us by,
divine power. So great are the defects with which it stands encumbered. All which,
Memius, we will hereafter, make clear to you. We will now go on to explain what remains to be told
of motions. End of Section 7. Section 8 of On the Nature of Things by Titus Lucretius Karras.
This Librovox recording is in the public domain read by Pamela Nagami. Book 2, Part 2. Part
Nowmi thinks is the place herein to prove this point also, that no bodily thing can by its own power
be borne upwards and travel upwards, that the bodies of flames may not in this manner lead you into
error, for they are begotten with an upward tendency, and in the same direction receive increase,
and goodly crops and trees grow upwards, though their weights, so far as in them is,
all tend downwards. And when fires leap to the roofs of houses and with swift flame lick up rafters and beams,
we are not to suppose that they do so spontaneously without a force pushing them up. Even thus,
blood discharged from our body spurts out and springs up on high and scatters gore about.
See you not, too, with what force the liquid of water spits out logs and beams? The more deeply
we have pushed them sheer down and have pressed them in, many of us together, with all our might
and much painful effort. With the greater avidity, it vomits them up and casts them forth,
so that they rise and start out more than half their length. And yet, methinks, we doubt not that
these, so far as in them is, are all borne downwards through the empty void. In the same way,
flames also ought to be able when squeezed out to mount upward through the air, although their weights, so far as in them is, strive to draw them down. See you not too, that the nightly meteors of heaven, as they fly aloft, draw after them long trails of flames in whatever direction nature has given them a passage. Do you not perceive stars and constellations fall to the earth? The sun also from the high.
height of heaven sheds its heat on all sides and sows the fields with light. To the earth, therefore,
as well, the sun's heat tends. Lightning's also, you see, fly athwart the rains. Now from this side,
now from that, fires burst from the clouds and rush about. The force of flame falls to the earth
all round. This point to her in we wish you to apprehend. When bodies are born downwards,
shear through void by their own weights, at quite uncertain times and uncertain spots, they
pushed themselves a little from their course. You just and only just can call it a change of
inclination. If they were not used to swerve, they would all fall down like drops of rain
through the deep void, and no clashing would have been begotten nor blow produced among the first
beginnings. Thus nature never would have produced aught.
But if happily anyone believes that heavier bodies, as they are carried more quickly sheer through
space, can fall from above on the lighter, and so beget blows able to produce begetting motions,
he goes most widely astray from true reason. For whenever bodies fall through water and thin air,
they must quicken their descents in proportion to their weights. Because the body of water
and subtle nature of air cannot retard everything in equal degree, but more readily give way,
overpowered by the heavier. On the other hand, empty void cannot offer resistance to anything in any
direction at any time, but must, as its nature craves, continually give way. And for this reason,
all things must be moved and borne along with equal velocity, though of unequal weights,
through the unresisting void.
Therefore, heavier things will never be able to fall from above on lighter,
nor of themselves to beget blows sufficient to produce the varied motions
by which nature carries on things.
Wherefore, again and again, I say, bodies must swerve a little,
and yet not more than the least possible,
lest we be found to be imagining oblique motions,
and this the reality should refute.
For this we see to be plain and evident,
that weights so far as is in them,
cannot travel obliquely when they fall from above,
at least so far as you can perceive,
but that nothing swerves in any case from the straight course
who was there that can perceive.
Again, if all motion is ever linked together
and a new motion ever springs from a number,
another in a fixed order, and first beginnings do not by swerving, make some commencement of motions
to break through the decrees of fate, that cause follow not cause from everlasting.
Whence have all living creatures here on earth?
Whence, I ask, has been wrested from the fates, the power by which we go forward,
whither the will leads each, by which likewise we change the direction of our motions,
neither at a fixed time nor fixed place, but when and where the mind itself has prompted.
For beyond a doubt in these things, his own will makes for each a beginning,
and from this beginning motions are welled through the limbs.
see you not too when the barriers are thrown open at a given moment,
that yet the eager powers of the horses cannot start forward so instantaneously as the mind itself desires?
The whole store of matter through the whole body must be sought out
in order that stirred up through all the frame it may follow with undivided effort the bent of the mind,
so that you see the beginning of motion is born from the heart,
and the action first commences in the will of the mind,
and next is transmitted through the whole body and frame.
Quite different is the case when we move on propelled by a stroke inflicted
by the strong might and strong compulsion of another.
For then it is quite clear that all matter of the whole body moves
and is hurried on against our inclination,
until the will has reined it in throughout the limbs.
Do you see, then, in this case,
that though an outward force often pushes men on
and compels them frequently to advance against their will,
and to be hurried headlong on,
there yet is something in our breast,
sufficient to struggle against it and resist it.
And when, too, this something chooses
the store of matter is compelled,
sometimes to change its course through the limbs and frame, and after it has been forced forward,
is reined in, and settles back into its place. Wherefore in seeds, too, you must admit the same.
Admit that besides blows and waits, there is another cause of motions from which this power
of free action has been begotten in us, since we see that nothing can come from nothing.
for weight forbids that all things be done by blows through as it were an outward force.
But that the mind itself does not feel an internal necessity in all its actions,
and is not, as it were, overmastered and compelled to bear and put up with this,
is caused by a minute swerving of first beginnings at no fixed part of space and no fixed time.
nor was the store of matter ever more closely masked nor held together by larger spaces between for nothing is either added to its bulk or lost to it
wherefore the bodies of the first beginnings in time gone by moved in the same way in which now they move and will ever hereafter be borne along in like manner and the things which have been wont to be begotten will be begotten after the same life
law, and will be and will grow and will wax in strength, so far as it is given to each by the
decrees of nature. And no force can change the sum of things, for there is nothing outside,
either into which any kind of matter can escape out of the universe, or out of which a new supply
can arise and burst into the universe, and change all the nature of things and alter their motions.
And herein, you need not wonder at this, that though the first beginnings of things are all in motion,
yet the sum is seen to rest in supreme repose, unless where a thing exhibits motions with its
individual body. For all the nature of first things lies far away from our senses beneath their
can, and therefore, since they are themselves beyond what you can see,
they must withdraw from sight their motion as well.
And the more so that the things which we can see
do yet often conceal their motions when a great distance off.
Thus often the woolly flocks,
as they crop the glad pastures on a hill,
creep on whither the grass jeweled with fresh dew,
summons and invites each,
and the lambs fed to the full,
gamble and playfully butt.
All which objects appear to us from a distance
to be blunted together, and to rest like a white spot on a green hill.
Again, when mighty legions fill with their movements all parts of the plains,
waging the mimicry of war, the glitter then lifts itself up to the sky,
and the whole earth round gleams with brass,
and beneath a noises raised by the mighty trampling of men,
and the mountains, stricken by the shouting, re-echo the voices to the stars,
of heaven, and horsemen fly about, and suddenly wheeling, scour across the middle of the plains,
shaking them with the vehemence of their charge. And yet, there is some spot on the high hills,
seen from which they appear to stand still, and to rest on the plains as a bright spot.
Now mark, and next in order, apprehend of what kind, and how widely differing in their forms
are the beginnings of all things. How varied by manifold diversities of shape? Not that a scanty number
are possessed of a like form, but because, as a rule, they do not all resemble one the other.
And no wonder, for since there is so great a store of them that, as I have shown, there is no
end or sum, they must, sure enough, not one and all, be marked by an equal bulk and like shape
one with another. Let the race of men pass before you in review, and the mute-swimming shoals of the
scaly tribes, and the blithe herds and wild beasts, and the different birds which haunt the
gladdening, watering spots about riverbanks and springs and pools, and those which flit about and throng
the pathless woods. Then go and take anyone you like in any one kind, and you will yet find
that they differ in their shapes, everyone from every other. And in no other way could child recognize
mother or mother child. And this we see that they all can do, and that they are just as well known to one
another as human beings are. Thus often in front of the beauty as shrines of the gods, a calf falls sacrificed
beside the incense-burning altars, and spurts from its breast a warm stream of blood.
But the bereaved mother as she ranges over the green lawns knows the footprint stamped on the ground by the cloven hoofs,
scanning with her eyes every spot to see if she can anywhere behold her lost youngling.
Then she fills with her moanings the leafy wood each time she desists from her search
and again and again goes back to the stall, pierced to the heart by the loss of her calf.
nor can the soft willows and grass quickened with dew and yon rivers gliding level with their banks
comfort her mind and put away the care that has entered into her, nor can other forms of calves
throughout the glad pastures divert her mind and ease it of its care. So persistently she seeks
something special and known. Again the tender kids with their shaking voices know their horned dams
and the budding lambs, the flocks of bleeding sheep. Thus they run as nature craves, each without fail,
to its own utter of milk. Lastly, in the case of any kind of corn you like, you will yet find that
any one grain is not so similar to any other in the same kind, but that there runs through them
some difference to distinguish the forms. On a like principle of differences, we see the class of
shells paint the lap of earth, where the sea with gentle waves beats on the thirsty sand of the
winding shore. Therefore, again and again, I say it is necessary for like reasons, that first
beginnings of things, since they exist by nature, and are not made by hand after the exact model of one,
should fly about with shapes, in some cases, differing one from the other.
End of Section 8.
Section 9 of On the Nature of Things by Titus Lucretius Karras.
This Librovox recording is in the public domain, read by Pamela Nogami.
Book 2, Part 3.
It is right easy for us on such a principle to explain why the fire of lightning has much
more power to pierce than ours which is born of earthly pinewood.
You may say that the heavenly fire of the fire of lightning has much more power to pierce than ours which is born of earthly pinewood.
You may say that the heavenly fire of lightning, subtle as it is, is formed of smaller shapes
and therefore passes through openings which this hour fire cannot pass, born as it is of woods
and sprung from pine. Again, light passes through horn, but rain is thrown off. Why? But that those
first bodies of light are smaller than those of which the nurturing liquid of water is made.
and quickly as we see wines flow through a strainer, sluggish oil on the other hand is slow to do so
because sure enough it consists of elements either larger in size or more hooked and tangled in one another
and therefore it is that the first beginnings of things cannot so readily be separated from each other
and severally stream through the several openings of anything.
Moreover, the liquids, honey, and milk excite a pleasant sensation of tongue when held in the mouth,
but on the other hand, the nauseous nature of wormwood and of harsh kentery rithes the mouth with a noisome flavor
so that you may easily see that the things which are able to affect the senses pleasantly
consist of smooth and round elements, while all those, on the other hand, which are found to be
bitter and harsh, are held in connection by particles that are more hooked, and for this reason
are wont to tear open passages into our senses, and in entering in to break through the body.
All things in short which are agreeable to the senses, and all which are unpleasant to the
feeling, are mutually repugnant, formed as they are out of an unlike first shape,
Lest happily you suppose that the harsh grating of the creaking saw consists of elements as smooth as those of tuneful melodies
which musicians wake into life with nimble fingers and give shape to on strings. Or suppose that the first beginnings are of like shape,
which pass into the nostrils of men, when noisome carcasses are burning, and when the stage is fresh sprinkled with salician saffron.
while the altar close by exhales Pankayan odors, or decide that the pleasant colors of things which are able to feast the eyes are formed of a seed like to the seed of those which make the pupils smart and force it to shed tears, or from their disgusting aspect, look hideous and foul.
for every shape which gratifies the senses has been formed not without a smoothness in its elements,
but on the other hand, whatever is painful and harsh, has been produced, not without some roughness of matter.
There are, too, some elements which are with justice thought to be neither smooth nor altogether hooked with barbed points,
but rather to have minute angles slightly projecting, so that they can tickle,
rather than hurt the senses, of which class tartar of wine is formed, and the flavors of
elicampagne. Again, that hot fires and cold frost have fangs of a dissimilar kind,
wherewith to pierce the senses, is proved to us by the touch of each. For touch, touch,
ye holy divinities of the gods, the body's feeling is, either when an extraneous thing makes
its way in, or when a thing which is born in the body hurts it, or gives pleasure as it issues forth
by the birth-bustowing ways of Venus, or when from some collision the seeds are disordered within the
body, and distract the feeling by their mutual disturbance, as if happily, you were yourself to
strike with the hand any part of the body you please and so make trial.
wherefore the shapes of the first beginnings must differ widely, since they are able to give birth to different feelings.
Again, things which look to us hard and dense must consist of particles more hooked together
and be held in union because weld it all through with branch-like elements.
In this class, first of all, diamond stones stand in foremost line, inure to dispose,
blows, and stout blocks of basalt, and the strength of hard iron and brass bolts which
scream out as they hold fast to their staples. Those things which are liquid and a fluid
body ought to consist more of smooth and round elements, for the several drops have no mutual
cohesion, and their onward course too has a ready flow downwards. All things lastly which
you see dispersed themselves in an instant, as smoke missed.
and flames, if they do not consist entirely of smooth and round, must yet not be held fast by
closely tangled elements, so that they may be able to pierce the body and enter it with biting power,
yet not stick together. Thus, you may easily know that whatever we see the senses have been able to
allay consists not of tangled but of pointed elements. Do not, however, hold it to be wonderful,
that some things which are fluid you see to be likewise bitter. For instance, the sea's moisture. Because it is
fluid, it consists of smooth and round particles, and many rough bodies mixed up with these produce pains,
and yet they must not be hooked so as to hold together. You are to know that though rough,
they are yet spherical, so that while they roll freely on, they may at the same time hurt the senses.
and that you may more readily believe that with smooth our mixed rough first beginnings
from which Neptune's body is made bitter.
There is a way of separating these and of seeing how the fresh water, when it is often filtered
through the earth, flows by itself into a trench and sweetens, for it leaves above the
first beginnings of the nauseous saltiness, inasmuch as the rough particles can more easily
stay behind in the earth. And now that I have shown this, I will go on to link to it a truth
which depends on this and from this draws its proof. The first beginnings of things have different
shapes, but the number of shapes is finite. If this were not so, then once more it would follow that
some seeds must be of infinite bulk of body. For in the same seed, in the single small size of any first body
like, the shapes cannot very much from one another. Say, for instance, that first bodies consist of
three least parts, or augment them by a few more. When to wit in all possible ways, by placing
each in turn at the top and at the bottom, by making the right change places with the left,
you shall have tried all those parts of one first body, and found what manner of shape each
different arrangement gives to the whole of that body, if, after all this,
as happily you shall wish still to vary the shapes, you will have to add other parts. It will next
follow that for like reasons the arrangement will require other parts, if happily you shall wish
still again to vary the shapes. From all this it results, that increase of bulk in the body
follows upon newness of the shapes, wherefore you cannot possibly believe that seeds have an
infinite variety of forms, lest you force some to be of a monstrous hugeness, which as I have above
shown cannot be proved. Moreover, I tell you, barbaric robes in radiant Malobian purple dipped in
the salient dye of shells, and the hues which are displayed by the golden brood of peacocks steeped in
laughing beauty, would all be thrown aside surpassed by some new color of things.
The smell of myrr would be despised, and the flavors of honey, and the melodies of the swan,
and Phoebeian tunes set off by the varied play of strings, would in like sort be suppressed and
silenced, for something ever would arise more surpassing than the rest.
All things likewise might fall back into worse states, even as we have said they might
advance to better, for reversely too one thing would be more noisome than all other things,
to nostril, ear, and eye, and taste. Now, since these things are not so, but a fixed limit has been
assigned to things which bounds their sum on each side, you must admit that matter also has a finite
number of different shapes. Once more from summer fires to chill frosts, a definite path is traced out,
and in like manner is again traveled back, for every degree of cold and heat, and
and intermediate warmth lies between those extremes, filling up in succession the sum.
Therefore, the things produced differ by finite degrees, since at both ends they are marked
off by points, one at one, another at the other end, molested on the one hand by flames,
on the other by stiffening frosts. And now that I have shown this I will go on to link to it a
truth which depends on this and from this draws its proof. The first beginnings of things which have a like
shape one with the other are infinite in number. For since the difference of forms is finite,
those which are like must be infinite, or the sum of matter will be finite, which I prove not to be
the case, when I showed in my verses that the minute bodies of matter from everlasting,
continually uphold the sum of things through an uninterrupted succession of blows on all sides.
For though you see that some animals are rarer than others and discern a less fruitful nature in them,
yet in another quarter and spot and in distant lands, there may be many of that kind,
and the full tale may be made up. Just as we see that in the class of four-footed beasts,
snake-handed elephants are elsewhere especially numerous, for India is so fenced about with an ivory
rampart made out of many thousands of these that its inner parts cannot be reached. So great is the
quantity of brutes of which we see but very few samples. But yet though I should grant this point to,
be there even as you will some one thing soul in its kind existing alone with a body that had birth,
and let no other thing resemble it in the whole world.
Yet unless there shall be an infinite supply of matter out of which it may be conceived
and brought into being, it cannot be produced, and more than this, it cannot have growth and
food. For though I should assume this point also, that birth-giving bodies of some one thing
are tossed about in finite quantity throughout the universe, whence, where, by what force,
and in what way shall they meet together and combine in so vast a sea such an alien medley of matter?
They have methinks, no way of uniting, but even as when great and numerous shipwrecks have occurred,
the great sea is wont to tumble about, banks, rudders, yards, prow masts, and swimming oars,
so that poop fittings are seen floating about along every shore,
and utter to mortals a warning to try to shun the snares and violence and guile of the faithless sea,
and never at any time to trust to it when the winning face of calm ocean laughs treacherously,
thus too, if you shall once decide that certain first beginnings are finite,
different currents of matter must scatter and tumble them about through all time,
so that they can never be brought into union and combine, nor abide in any union,
nor grow up and increase. But plain matter of fact shows that each of these results manifestly does
take place, that things can be brought into being and when begotten advance in growth.
It is clear then that in any class you like, the first beginnings of things are infinite,
out of which all supplies are furnished.
End of Section 9. Section 10 of On the Nature of Things by Titus Lucretius Karras,
This Librovox recording is in the public domain read by Pamela Nagami, book two, part four.
Thus neither can death-dealing motions keep the mastery always, nor in tomb existence forevermore.
Nor, on the other hand, can the birth and increase giving motions of things preserve them always after they are born?
Thus the war of first beginnings
Waged from Eternity is carried on with dubious issue.
Now here, now there,
the life-bringing elements of things get the mastery
and are overmastered in turn.
With the funeral wail,
blends the cry which babies raise
when they enter the borders of light,
and no night ever followed day,
nor morning night,
that heard not mingling with the sickly infants'
cries, wailings of the attendants on death and black funeral. And herein it is proper you should
keep under seal and guard, they are consigned in faithful memory this truth, that there is nothing
whose nature is apparent to sense, which consists of one kind of first beginnings,
nothing which is not formed by a mixing of seed. And whenever a thing possesses in itself in larger measure,
many powers and properties, in that measure it shows that there are in it the greatest number of
different kinds and varied shapes of first beginnings. First of all, the earth has in her first
bodies, out of which springs rolling coolness, a long replenish without fail the boundless sea.
She has bodies out of which fires rise up, for in many spots the earth's crust is on fire
and burns, though headstrong Etna rages with fire of sorts.
passing force. Then, too, she has bodies out of which she can raise for mankind, goodly crops,
and joyous trees, out of which, too, she can supply to the mountain-ranging race of wild beasts,
rivers, leaves, and glad pastures. Wherefore, she has alone been named,
great mother of gods and mother of beasts, and parent of our body.
Of her, the old and learned poets of the Greeks have seen.
sung, that borne aloft on high-raised seat in a chariot, she drives a pair of lions,
teaching that the great earth hangs in the expanse of air, and that earth cannot rest on earth.
To her chariot they have yoked wild beasts, because a brood, however, savage, ought to be
tamed and softened by the kind offices of parents. They have encircled the top of her head
with a mural crown, because fortified in choice positions, she sustains towns,
adorned with which emblem the image of the divine mother is carried nowadays through
wide lands in awe-inspiring state. Her different nations, after old-established ritual,
term idean mother, and give her for escort, Phrygian bands, because they tell that from those
lands corn first began to be produced throughout the world.
They assign her galley because they would show by this type that they who have done violence to the
divinity of the mother and have proved ungrateful to their parents are to be deemed unworthy
to bring a living offspring into the borders of light.
Tight-stretched tambourines and hollow symbols resound all round to the stroke of their open hands
and horns menace with hoarse-sounding music and the hollow pipe stirs their minds in Phrygian mood.
They carry weapons before them, emblems of furious rage, meet to fill the thankless souls and
godless breasts of the rabble with terror for the divinity of the goddess. Therefore, when first born in
procession through great cities, she mutely enriches mortals with a blessing not expressed in words,
they strew all her path with brass and silver, presenting her with bounty as alms, and scatter over her,
a snow-shower of roses, overshadowing the mother and her troops of attendance.
Here an armed band, to which the Greeks give the name of Phrygian Coretes,
in that it haply joins in the game of arms, and springs up in measure all dripping with
blood, shaking with its nodding the frightful crests upon the head.
Represents the Dictayan Coretes, who, as the story is, erst, drowned in Crete, that infant cry
of Jove, when the young band about the young babe in rapid dance, arms in hand, two measured tread,
beat brass on brass, that Saturn might not get him to consign to his devouring jaws
and stab the mother to the heart with a never-healing wound.
For these reasons they escort in arms the great mother, or else because they mean by this sign
that the goddess preaches to men to be willing with arms and valor to defend the
their country, and to be ready to be a safeguard and an ornament to their parents, all which,
well and beautifully, as it is set forth and told, is yet widely removed from true reason.
For the nature of gods must ever in itself of necessity, enjoy immortality together with
supreme of repose, far removed, and withdrawn from our concerns. Since, exempted,
from every pain, exempt from all dangers, strong in its own resources, not wanting out of us,
it is neither gained by favors nor moved by anger. And here, if anyone thinks proper to call the
C. Neptune and Corn Series, and chooses rather to misuse the name of Bacchus than to utter the term
that belongs to that liquor, let us allow him to declare that the earth is mother of the God,
if he only forbear in earnest to stain his mind with foul religion.
The earth, however, is at all time without feeling,
and because it receives into it the first beginnings of many things,
it brings them forth in many ways into the light of the sun.
And so the woolly flocks and the martial breed of horses and horned herds,
though often cropping the grass from one field beneath the same canopy of habit,
and slaking their thirst from one stream of water,
yet have all their life a dissimilar appearance,
and retain the nature of their parents,
and severally imitate their ways each after its kind.
So great is the diversity of matter in any kind of herbage
so great in every river.
And hence too, anyone you please out of the whole number of living creatures
is made up of bones, blood, veins, heat, moisture, flesh, sinews,
and these things again differ widely from one another
and are composed of first beginnings of unlike shape.
Furthermore, whatever things are set on fire and burned,
store up in their body, if nothing else,
at least those particles out of which they may radiate fire
and send out light and make sparks fly and scatters,
are embers all about. If you will go over all other things by a like process of reasoning,
you will thus find that they conceal in their body the seeds of many things and contain elements
of various shapes. Again, you see many things to which are given at once both color and
taste together with smell, especially those many offerings which are burned on the altars.
These must therefore be made up of elements of different shapes, for smell enters in where color passes not into the frame.
Color too in one way, taste in another, makes its entrance into the senses, so that you know they differ in the shapes of their first elements.
Therefore, unlike forms unite into one mass, and things are made up of a mixture of seed.
throughout moreover these very verses of ours you see many elements common to many words though yet
you must admit that the verses and words one with another are different and composed of different
elements not that but few letters which are in common run through them or that no two words or
verses one with another are made up entirely of the same but because as a rule they do not all
resemble one another. Thus also, though in other things, there are many first beginnings common to
many things, yet they can make up one with the other a quite dissimilar whole, so that men and corn
and joyous trees may fairly be said to consist of different elements. And yet, we are not to suppose
that all things can be joined together in all ways, for then you would see prodigies produced on
all hands, forms springing up, half man, half beast, and sometimes tall boughs sprouting from the
living body, and many limbs of land creatures joined with those of sea animals. Nature, too, throughout the
all-bearing lands, feeding chimeras which breathed flames from noisome mouth. It is plain, however,
that nothing of the sword is done. Since we see that all things produced from fixed,
seeds and a fixed mother can in growing preserve the marks of their kind.
This you are to know must take place after a fixed law.
For the particles suitable for each thing from all kinds of food when inside the body,
pass into the frame and joining on produce the appropriate motions.
But on the other hand, we see nature throw out on the earth those that are alien,
and many things with their unseen bodies fly,
out of the body impelled by blows, those I mean which have not been able to join on to any part,
nor when inside, to feel in unison with, and adopt the vital motions.
But lest you happily suppose that living things alone are bound by these conditions,
such a law keeps all things within their bounds.
For even as things begotten are in their whole nature all unlike, one the other,
thus each must consist of first beginnings of unlike shape,
not that a scanty number are possessed of a like form,
but because as a rule they do not all resemble one the other.
Again, since the seeds differ,
there must be a difference in the spaces between,
the passages, the connections, the weights,
the blows, the clashings, the motions,
all which not only disjoin living bodies,
but hold apart the lands and the whole,
whole sea, and keep all heaven away from the earth.
Now mark and apprehend precepts amassed by my welcome toil,
lest happily you deem that those things which you see with your eyes to be bright,
because white are formed of white particles, or that the things which are black are born
from black seed, or that things which are steeped in any other color, bear that color
because the bodies of matter are dyed with a color like to it. For the bodies of matter,
have no color at all, either like to the things or unlike. But if happily it seems to you that
no impression of the mind may throw itself into these bodies, you wander far astray. For since men
born blind, who have never beheld the light of the sun, yet recognize bodies by touch,
though linked with no color for them from their first birth, you are to know that bodies can fall
under the ken of our mind too, though stained with no color.
Again, whatever things we ourselves touch in the thick darkness, we do not perceive to be dyed
with any color. And since I prove that this is the case, I will now show that there are things
which are possessed of no color. Well, any color without exception changes into any other,
and this first beginnings ought in no wise to do. Something unchangeable. Something unchangeable.
must remain over, that all things be not utterly reduced to nothing. For whenever a thing changes
and quits its proper limits, at once this change of state is the death of that which was before.
Therefore, think not to die with color the seeds of things, that they may not have all things
altogether returning to nothing. End of Section 10. Section 11 of On the Nature of Things by Titus Lucretius
Karas. This Librovax recording is in the public domain read by Pamela Nagami. Book 2, Part 5.
Moreover, if no quality of color is assigned to first beginnings, and they are yet possessed of
varied shapes out of which they beget colors of every kind, and change them about by reason that it
makes a great difference with what other seeds and in what position the seeds are severally held in union,
and what motions they mutually impart and receive,
you can explain at once with the greatest ease
why those things which just before were of a black color
may become all at once of marble whiteness.
As the sea, when mighty winds have stirred up its waters,
is changed into white waves of the brightness of marble.
You may say that when the matter of that
which we often see to be black has been mixed up anew,
and the arrangement of its first beginnings has been changed, and some have been added, and some been
taken away, the immediate result is that it appears bright and white. But if the waters of the sea
consisted of azure seeds, they could in no wise become white. For however much you jumble together
seeds, which are azure, they can never pass into a marble color. But if the seeds, which make up the
one unmixed brightness of the sea, are dyed, some with one, some with other colors,
just as often out of different forms and varied shapes, something square and of a uniform figure
is made up. In that case, it were natural that as we see unlike forms contained in the
square, so we should see in the water of the sea, or in any other one, an unmixed brightnessness,
colors widely unlike and different to one another.
Moreover, the unlike figures do not in the least hinder or prevent the whole figure from being a square on the outside,
but the various colors of things are a let and hindrance to the whole things being of a uniform brightness.
Then, too, the reason which leads and draws us on sometimes to assign colors to the first beginnings of things
falls to the ground, since white things are not produced from white, nor those which are black
from black, but out of things of various colors. For white things will much more readily rise up
and be born from no color than from a black or any other color which thwarts and opposes it.
Moreover, since colors cannot exist without light, and first beginnings of things do not come
out into the light, you may be sure they are clothed with no color. For what color can there be in
total darkness? Nay, it changes in the light itself, according as its brightness comes from a straight or
slanting stroke of light. And after this fashion, the down, which encircles and crowns the nape
and throat of doves, shows itself in the sun. At one time, it is ruddy, reddy,
with the hue of bright pyropus,
at another it appears by a certain way of looking at it,
to blend with coral red, green emeralds.
The tail of the peacock, when it is saturated with abundant light,
changes in like fashion its colors as it turns about.
And since these colors are begotten by a certain stroke of light,
sure enough, you must believe that they cannot be produced without it.
and since the pupil receives into it a kind of blow, when it is said to perceive a white color,
and then another, when it perceives black or any other color,
and since it is of no moment with what color the things which you touch are provided,
but rather with what sort of shape they are furnished,
you are to know that first beginnings have no need of colors,
but give forth sensations of touch varying according to.
to their various shapes. Moreover, since no particular kind of color is assigned to particular shapes,
and every configuration of first beginnings can exist in any color, why on a like principle,
are not the things which are formed out of them in every kind overlaid with colors of every
kind. For then it were natural that crows, too, and flying should often display a white color
from white wings, and that swans should come to be black from a black seed, or of any other
different color you please. Again, the more minute the parts are into which anything is rent,
the more you may perceive the color fade away by little and little, and become extinct. As for instance,
if a piece of purple is torn into small shreds, when it has been plucked into separate threads,
the purple and the scarlet, far the most brilliant of colors, are quite effaced,
from which you may infer that the shreds part with all their color
before they come back to the seeds of things.
Lastly, since you admit that all bodies do not utter a voice or emit a smell,
for this reason you do not assign to all sounds and smells,
so also, since we cannot perceive all things with the eyes,
you are to know that some things are as much denuded of color as others are without smell and devoid of sound,
and that the keen discerning mind can just as well apprehend these things as it can take note of things which are destitute of other qualities.
But less happily you suppose that first bodies remain stripped of color alone,
they are also wholly devoid of warmth and cold and violent heat,
and are judged to be barren of sound and drained of moisture,
and emit from their body no scent of their own.
Just as when you set about preparing the balmy liquid of sweet marjoram and myrrh,
and the flower of spike-nard, which gives forth to the nostrils a scent like nectar,
before all you should seek so far as you may and can find it,
the substance of scentless oil, such as gives out no perfume to the nostrils,
that it may as little as possible meddle with and destroy by its own pungency, the odors mixed in its body and boiled up with it.
For the same reason, the first beginnings of things must not bring to the beginning of things a smell or sound of their own,
since they cannot discharge anything from themselves, and for the same reason, no taste either,
nor cold, nor any heat, moderate or violent and the like. For as these things,
things, be they what they may, are still such as to be liable to death, whether pliant with a soft,
brittle with a crumbling, or hollow with a porous body, they must all be withdrawn from the first
beginnings. If we wish to assign to things imperishable foundations, for the whole sum of existence
to rest upon, that you may not have things returning altogether to nothing. To come to another point,
whatever things we perceive to have sense, you must yet admit to be all composed of senseless first
beginnings. Manifist tokens which are open to all to apprehend, so far from refuting or contradicting
this, do rather themselves take us by the hand and constrain us to believe that, as I say,
living things are begotten from senseless things. We may see, in fact, living worms spring out of
stinking dung, when the soaked earth has gotten putridity after excessive rains, and all things
besides change in the same way. Rivers, leaves, and glad pastures change into cattle.
Cattle change their substance into our bodies, and often out of these the powers of wild beasts
and the bodies of the strong of wing are increased. Therefore, nature changes all foods into living bodies,
genders out of them all the senses of living creatures, much in the same way as she dissolves
dry woods into flames and converts all things into fires. Now do you see that it is of great moment
in what sort of arrangement the first beginnings of things are severally placed, and with what
others they are mixed up when they impart and receive motions? Then again, what is that which
strikes your mind, affects that mind, and constrains it to give utterance to many different thoughts,
to save you from believing that the sensible is begotten out of senseless things?
Sure enough it is, because stones and wood and earth, however mixed together, are yet unable to produce
vital sense. This, therefore, it will be well to remember her in, that I do not assert that the
sensible and sensations are forthwith begotten out of all elements without exception which produce
things. But that it is of great moment first, how minute the particles are which make up the
sensible thing, and then what shape they possess, and what in short they are in their motions,
arrangements, and positions, none of which conditions we find in woods and clods,
and yet even these, when they have, so to speak, become rotten through the rains,
bring forth worms, because bodies of matter, driven from their ancient arrangements by a new
condition, are combined in the manner needed for the begetting of living creatures.
Next, they who hold that the sensible can be produced out of sensible elements,
accustomed thus to derive their own sense from elements which are sensible in their turn,
do thus render their own seeds mortal. When they make them soft, for all sense is bound up
with flesh, sinews, and veins, which and everything we see to be soft and formed of a mortal body.
But even suppose that these things can remain eternal. They must yet, I presume, either have the
sense of some part or else be deemed to possess a sense similar to the entire living creatures.
But the parts cannot possibly have sense by themselves alone. For all sense of the different members
has reference to something else, nor can the hand when severed from us, nor any part of the body
whatever by itself, maintain sensation. It remains to assume that they resemble the entire living
creatures. In this case, it is necessary that they should feel the things which we feel in the same way as we do
in order that they may be able in all points to work in concert with the vital sense. How,
can they be called first beginnings of things and shun the paths of death,
seeing that they are living things, and that living things are one and the same with mortal things.
Nay, granting they could do this, yet by their meeting in union they will make nothing but a jumble
and medley of living things. Just you are to know, as men, cattle, and wild beasts,
would be unable to beget any other thing by all they're mixing with one another.
But if happily they lose from their body their own sense and adopt another,
what use was it to assign what is again withdrawn?
Moreover, the instance to which we had before recourse,
inasmuch as we see the eggs of fowls change into living chicks,
and worms burst forth.
When putridity has seized on the earth after excessive rains,
you are to know that sensations can be begotten out of no sensations.
But if happily anyone shall say that sense so far may arise from no sensation by a process of change
or because it is brought forth by a kind of birth, it will be enough to make plain and to prove to him
that no birth takes place until a union of elements has first been effected
and that nothing changes without their having been united.
Above all, senses cannot exist in any body
before the nature itself of the living thing has been begotten,
because sure enough, the matter remains scattered about in air, rivers, earth,
and things produced from earth,
and has not met together and combined in appropriate fashion
the vital motions by which the all-dissearning senses are kindled into action in every living thing.
End of Section 11.
Section 12 of On the Nature of Things by Titus Lucretius Karras.
This Librovox recording is in the public domain, read by Pamela Nogami.
Book 2, Part 6.
Again, a blow more severe than its nature,
can endure prostrates at once any living thing and goes on to stun all the senses of body and mind.
For the positions of the first beginnings are broken up, and the vital motions entirely stopped
until the matter disordered by the shock through the whole frame unties from the body
the vital fastenings of the soul and scatters it abroad and forces it out through all the pores.
For what more can we suppose the infliction of a blow can do, then shake from their place and break up the union of the several elements.
Often, too, when the blow is inflicted with less violence, the remaining vital motions are wont to prevail.
I, prevail and still, the huge disorders caused by the blow, and recall each part into its proper channels,
and shake off the motion of death, now raining as it were paramount in the body,
and kindle afresh the almost lost senses.
For in what other way should the thing be able to gather together its powers of mind
and come back to life from the very threshold of death
rather than pass on to the goal to which it had almost run and so pass away?
Again, since there is pain when the bodies of matter are,
disordered by any force throughout the living flesh and frame and quake in their seats within,
and as when they travel back into their place, a soothing pleasure ensues, you are to know that
first beginnings can be assailed by no pain and can derive no pleasure from themselves,
since they are not formed of any bodies of first beginnings, so as to be distressed by any
novelty in their motion or derive from it any fruit of fostering delight, and therefore they must not
be possessed of any sense. Again, if in order that living creatures may severally have sense,
sense is to be assigned to their first beginnings as well, what are we to say of those of which
mankind is specifically made? Sure enough, they burst into fits of shaking laughter,
and sprinkle with dewy tears, faces and cheeks, and have the cunning to say much about the
composition of things, and to inquire next what their own first beginnings are, since like in
their natures to the entire mortals, they must in their turn be formed out of other elements,
then those out of others, so that you can venture nowhere to come to a stop. Yes, whatever you
shall say speaks and laughs and thinks, I will press you with the argument that it is formed of other
things performing these same acts. But if we see these notions to be sheer falling in madness,
and a man may laugh, though not made of laughing things, and think and reason in learned language,
though not framed, of thoughtful and eloquent seeds, why cannot the things which we see to have sense,
just as well be made up of a mixture of things altogether devoid of sense.
Again we are all sprung from a heavenly seed.
All have that same father, by whom Mother Earth the giver of increase,
when she has taken in from him liquid drops of moisture,
conceives and bears goodly crops and joyous trees and the race of man,
bears all kinds of brute beasts,
in that she supplies food with which all feed their bodies and lead a pleasant life and continue their race.
Wherefore, with good cause, she has gotten the name of mother.
That also which before was from the earth, passes back into the earth,
and that which was sent from the borders of ether is carried back and taken in again by the quarters of heaven.
Death does not extinguish things in such a way as to destroy the bodies,
of matter, but only breaks up the union amongst them, and then joins anew the different elements
with others, and thus it comes to pass that all things change their shapes and alter their colors,
and receive sensations, and in a moment, yield them up. So that from all this you may know it matters
much with what others and in what position, the same first beginnings of things are held in union,
and what motions they do mutually impart and receive, and you may not suppose that which we see
floating about on the surface of things and now born, then at once perishing, can be a property
inherent in everlasting first bodies. Nay, in our verses themselves it matters much with what other
elements and in what kind of order the several elements are placed. If not all, yet by far,
the greatest number are alike, but the totals composed of them are made to differ by the position
of these elements. Thus, in actual things as well, when the clashings, motions, arrangement,
position, and shapes of matter change about, the things must also change. Apply now, we entreat
your mind to true reason. For a new question struggles earnestly to gain your ears. A new aspect of things
to display itself. But there is nothing so easy as not to be at first more difficult to believe
than afterwards, and nothing too so great, so marvelous, that all do not gradually abate their
admiration of it. Look up at the bright and unsullied hue of heaven, and the stars which it holds within
it, wandering all about, and the moon and the sun's light of dazzling brilliancy. If all these things,
were now for the first time, if I say they were now suddenly presented to mortals beyond all
expectation, what could have been named that would be more marvelous than these things,
or that nations beforehand would less venture to believe could be?
Nothing, methinks. So wondrous strange had been this sight. Yet how little you know.
We read, as all are to satiety with seeing, anyone now cares to look.
look up into heaven's glittering quarters. Sees, therefore, to be dismayed by the mere novelty,
and so to reject reason from your mind with loathing. Weigh the questions, rather, with keen judgment,
and if they seem to you to be true, surrender, or, if they are falsehood, gird yourself to the
encounter. For since the sum of space is unlimited outside beyond these walls of the world,
the mind seeks to apprehend what there is yonder there, to which the spirit ever yearns to look forward,
and to which the mind's emission reaches in free and unembarrassed flight.
In the first place, we see that round in all directions, about, above, and underneath,
throughout the universe, there is no bound, as I have shown,
and as the thing of itself proclaims with loud voice,
and as clearly shines out in the nature of bottomless space.
In no wise then can it be deemed probable
when space yawns illimitable
towards all points and seeds in number, numberless,
and some unfathomable,
fly about in manifold ways driven on in ceaseless motion,
that this single earth and heaven
have been brought into being,
that those bodies of matter so many in numbers,
do nothing outside them, the more so that this world has been made by nature, just as the seeds of
things have chanced spontaneously to clash, after being brought together in manifold-wise without
purpose, without foresight, without result, and at last have filtered through such seeds as suddenly
thrown together were fitted to become, on each occasion, the rudiments of great things, of earth,
sea and heaven and the race of living beings. Wherefore again and again I say you must admit,
that there are elsewhere other combinations of matter like to this, which ether holds in its greedy
grasp. Again, when much matter is at hand, when room is there and there is no thing, no cause to hinder,
things sure enough must go on and be completed. Well then, if on the one hand,
there is so great a store of seeds as the whole life of living creatures cannot reckon up,
and if the same force and nature abide in them, and have the power to throw the seeds of things
together into their several places, in the same way as they are thrown together into our world,
you must admit that in other parts of space there are other earths and various races of men
and kinds of wild beasts. Moreover, in the sum of all, there is no way.
one thing which is begotten single in its kind and grows up single and soul of its kind.
But a thing always belongs to some class, and there are many other things in the same kind.
First, in the case of living things, most noble memmius, you will find that in this sort has been
begotten the mountain-ranging race of wild beasts. In this sort, the breed of men. In this sort, too,
the mute shoals of scaly creatures and all bodies of fowls.
Wherefore, on a like principle, you must admit, that earth and sun, moon, sea,
and all things else that are, are not single in their kind, but rather in number, past numbering.
Since the deep-set boundary mark of life, just as much awaits these, and they are just as much of a body that had birth as
any class of things which here on earth abounds in samples of its kind.
If you well apprehend and keep in mind these things, nature free at once and rid of her
haughty lords is seen to do all things spontaneously of herself without the meddling of the gods.
For I appeal to the holy breasts of the gods who in tranquil peace, pass a calm time and an unruffled existence,
Who can rule the sum? Who hold in his hand with controlling force, the strong reins of the immeasurable deep?
Who can at once make all the different heavens to roll and warm with ethereal fires,
all the fruitful earths, or be present in all places at all times, to bring darkness with clouds
and shake with noise the heaven's serene expanse? To hurl lightnings and often
and throw down his own temples, and withdrawing into the deserts there to spend his rage in
practicing his bolt, which often passes the guilty by, and strikes dead the innocent and the
unoffending? And since the birth time of the world and first day of being to sea and earth
and the formation of the sun, many bodies have been added from without, many seeds added all round,
which the great universe in tossing to and fro has contributed,
that from them the sea and lands might increase,
and from them heaven's mansion might enlarge its expanse
and raise its high vaults far above earth,
and that air might rise up around.
For all bodies from all quarters are assigned by blows,
each to its appropriate thing,
and all withdraw to their proper classes.
Moisture passes to moisture, from an earthy body, earth increases, and fires forge fires, and ether, ether,
until nature, parent of things with finishing hand has brought all things on to their utmost limit of growth.
And this comes to pass when that which is infused into the life arteries is no more than that which ebbs from them and withdraws.
At this point, the life growth in all things must stop.
At this point, nature by her power checks further increase.
For whatever things you see grow in size with joyous increase
and mount by successive steps to mature age,
take to themselves more bodies than they discharge from themselves,
while food is readily infused into all the arteries
and the things are not so widely spread out as to throw off many particles,
and occasion more waste than their age can take in as nourishment.
For no doubt, it must be conceded that many bodies ebb away and withdraw from things,
and still more must join them, until they have touched the utmost point of growth.
Then, piece by piece, age breaks their powers and matured strength,
and wastes away on the side of decay.
For the larger a thing is, and the wide,
as soon as its growth is stopped, at once it sheds abroad and discharges from it, more bodies in all
directions round, and its food is not readily transmitted into all its arteries, and is not enough
in proportion to the copious exhalations which the thing throws off, to enable a like amount to rise up
and be supplied. For food must keep all things entire by renewing them. Food must uphold. Food
sustain all things, all in vain, since the arteries refuse to hold what is sufficient,
and nature does not furnish the needful amount.
With good reason, therefore, all things perish when they have been rarefied by the ebb of
particles and succumb to blows from without, since food sooner or later fails advanced age,
and bodies never cease to destroy a thing by thumping it from without, and to overpower it by a
aggressive blows. In this way, then, the walls two of the great world around shall be stormed and
fall to decay in crumbling ruin. Yes, and even now the age is enfeebled, and the earth exhausted by
bearing, scarce produces little living creatures. She who produced all races and gave birth to the huge
bodies of wild beasts. For methinks no golden chain let down to earth from heaven,
and above the races of mortal beings, nor did the sea and waves which lashed the rocks produce them,
but the same earth bear them which now feeds them out of herself.
Moreover, she first spontaneously of herself produced for mortals, goodly corn crops,
and joyous vineyards, of herself, gave sweet fruits and glad pastures, which nowadays scarce attain
any size when furthered by our labor. We exhaust the eyes. We exhaust the eyes,
and the strength of the husbandman. We wear out our iron, scarcely fed after all by the tilled
fields. So niggardly are they of their produce, and after so much labor do they let it grow.
And now the aged plowman shakes his head in size again and again to think that the labors of his
hands have come to nothing. And when he compares present times with times past, he often praises the
fortunes of his sire, and harps on the theme, how the men of old, rich in piety,
comfortably supported life on a scanty plot of land, since the allotment of land to each man was far
less of your than now. The sorrowful planter, too, of the exhausted and triveled vine
impeaches the march of time and wearies heaven, and comprehends not that all things are gradually
wasting away and passing to the grave, quite forespent by age and length of days.
End of Section 12. Section 13 of On the Nature of Things by Titus Lucretius Karras.
This Librovoc's recording is in the public domain read by Pamela Nagami.
Book 3, Part 1.
The, who first was able amidst such thick darkness, to raise on a.
high so bright a beacon, and shed a light on the true interests of life.
The I follow, glory of the Greek race, and plant now my footsteps firmly fixed in thy imprinted
marks, not so much from a desire to rival thee as that from the love I bear thee,
I yearn to imitate thee. For why need the swallow contend with swans, or what likeness is
there between the feats of racing performed by king?
kids with tottering limbs, and by the powerful strength of the horse.
Thou father art discoverer of things, thou furnished us with fatherly precepts,
and like as bees sip of all things in the flowery lawns, we, O glorious being,
in like manner, feed from out thy pages upon all the golden maxims.
Golden, I say, most worthy ever of endless life.
For soon as thy philosophy, issuing from a godlike intellect, has begun with loud voice to proclaim the nature of things,
the terrors of the mind are dispelled, the walls of the world part asunder.
I see things in operation throughout the whole void.
The divinity of the gods is revealed, and their tranquil abodes which neither winds do shake nor clouds drench with rains,
nor snow congealed by sharp frosts harms with hoary fall.
An ever-cloudless ether over canopies them,
and they laugh with light shed largely round.
Nature, too, supplies all their wants,
and nothing ever impairs their peace of mind.
But on the other hand,
the Acherusian quarters are nowhere to be seen,
though earth is no bar to all things being described,
which are in operation underneath our feet throughout the void.
At all this, a kind of godlike delight mixed with shuddering awe comes over me
to think that nature by thy power is laid thus visibly open,
is thus unveiled on every side.
And now, since I have shown what like the beginnings of all things are,
and how diverse with varied shapes as they fly spontaneously,
driven on in everlasting motion, and how all things can be severally produced out of these.
Next, after these questions, the nature of the mind and soul should methinks be cleared up by
my verses, and that dread of Acheron be driven headlong forth, troubling as it does the life
of man from its inmost depths, and overspreading all things with the blackness of death,
allowing no pleasure to be pure and unalloyed.
for as to what men often give out that diseases and a life of shame are more to be feared than tartarist's place of death,
and that they know the soul to be of blood or it may be of wind, if happily their choice so direct,
and that they have no need at all of our philosophy. You may perceive from the following reasons
that all these boasts are thrown out more for glory's sake than because the thing is really believed,
these very men, exiles from their country and banished far from the sight of men,
lived degraded by foul charge of guilt, sunk in a word in every kind of misery, and whithersoever
the poor wretches are come, they yet do offer sacrifices to the dead, slaughter black sheep,
and make libations to the gods manes, and in times of distress, turn their thoughts to religion
much more earnestly. Wherefore, you can better test the man in doubts and dangers, and mid-adversity
learn who he is, for then and not till then, the words of truth are forced out from the bottom of
his heart. The mask is torn off, the reality is left. Averous again and blind lust of honors
which constrain unhappy men to overstep the bounds of right, and sometimes as partners and agents,
of crimes, to strive night and day with surpassing effort to struggle up to the summit of power,
these sores of life are in no small measure fostered by the dread of death.
For foul scorn and pinching want in every case are seen to be far removed from a life
of pleasure and security, and to be a loitering, so to say, before the gates of death.
And while men driven on by an unreal dread, wish to be a loitering, so to say, before the gates of death,
to escape far away from these and keep them far from them, they amass wealth by civil bloodshed
and greedily double their riches, piling up murder on murder, cruelly triumph in the sad death of a
brother, and hate and fear the tables of kinsfolk. Often likewise from the same fear, envy causes
them to pine. They make moan that before their very eyes he is powerful.
He attracts attention, who walks arrayed in gorgeous dignity, while they are wallowing in darkness and dirt.
Some wear themselves to death for the sake of statues in a name, and often to such a degree,
through dread of death, does hate of life and of the sight of daylight seize upon mortals,
that they commit self-murder with a sorrowing heart, quite forgetting that this fear is the source of their care.
this fear which urges men to every sin prompts this one to put all shame to rout another to burst asunder the bonds of friendship and in fine to overturn duty from its very base since often ere now men have betrayed country and dear parents in seeking to shun the akaroosian quarters for even as children are flurried and dread all things in the thick
darkness. Thus we in the daylight fear at times things not a whit more to be dreaded than what
children shudder at in the dark and fancy sure to be. This terror, therefore, and darkness of mind
must be dispelled, not by the rays of the sun and glittering shafts of day, but by the aspect
and law of nature. First then I say that the mind, which we often call the understanding,
in which dwells the directing and governing principle of life,
is no less part of the man than hand and foot and eyes are part of the whole living creature.
Some, however, affirm that the sense of the mind does not dwell in a distinct part,
but is a certain vital state of the body, which the Greeks call harmonia,
because by it they say we live with sense, though the understanding is in no one part.
just as when good health is said to belong to the body, though yet it is not any one part of the man in health.
In this way, they do not assign a distinct part to the sense of the mind, in all which they appear to me to be grievously at fault in more ways than one.
Oftentimes the body which is visible to sight is sick, while yet we have pleasure in another part, and oftentimes the case is the reverse.
the man who is unhappy in mind, feeling pleasure in his whole body, just as if while a sick man's
foot is pained, the head, meanwhile, should be in no pain at all.
Moreover, when the limbs are consigned to soft sleep, and the burdened body lies diffused without sense,
there is yet a something else in us which during that time is moved in many ways,
and admits into it all the motions of joy and unreal cares of the heart.
now that you may know that the soul as well is in the body and limbs and that the body is not wont to have sense by any harmony this is a main proof when much of the body has been taken away still life often stays in the limbs and yet the same life when a few bodies of heat have been dispersed abroad and some air has been forced out to the mouth
abandons at once the veins and quits the bones. By this you may perceive that all bodies have not functions of like importance,
nor alike uphold existence, but rather that those seeds which constitute wind and heat
cause life to stay in the limbs. Therefore, vital heat and wind are within the body,
and abandon our frame at death. Since then the nature of the mind and that,
of the soul have been proved to be a part as it were of the man, surrender the name of harmony,
whether brought down to musicians from high helicon, or whether rather they have themselves
taken it from something else and transferred it to that thing, which then was in need of a distinctive
name, whatever it be, let them keep it, do you take in the rest of my precepts?
Now I assert that the mind and the soul are kept together in close union, and, and
make up a single nature. But that the directing principle which we call mind and understanding
is the head, so to speak, and reigns paramount in the whole body. It has a fixed seat in the middle
region of the breast. Here throb fear and apprehension. About these spots dwell soothing joys.
Therefore, here is the understanding or mind. All the rest of the soul disseminated through the whole
body obeys and moves at the will and inclination of the mind. It by itself alone knows for itself,
rejoices for itself, at times when the impression does not move either soul or body together with it.
And as when some part of us, the head or the eye, suffers from an attack of pain. We do not feel
the anguish at the same time over the whole body. Thus the mind sometimes suffers pain by itself or is
inspirited with joy, when all the rest of the soul throughout the limbs and frame is stirred by no
novel sensation. But when the mind is excited by some more vehement apprehension, we see the whole soul
feel in unison through all the limbs, sweats and paleness spread over the whole body,
the tongue falter, the voice die away, a mist covers the eyes, the ears ring, the limbs sink under one.
In short, we often see men drop down from terror of mind, so that anybody may easily perceive
from this that the soul is closely united with the mind, and when it has been smitten by the
influence of the mind, forthwith pushes and strikes the body.
End of Section 13.
Section 14 of On the Nature of Things by Titus Lucretius Carus.
This Libravox recording is in the public domain read by Pamela Nagami.
Book 3, Part 2
This same principle teaches that the nature of the mind and soul is bodily,
for when it is seen to push the limbs, rouse the body from sleep,
and alter the countenance, and guide and turn about the whole man,
and when we see that none of these effects can take place without touch,
nor touch without body, must we not admit that the mind in the soul are of a bodily nature.
Again, you perceive that our mind in our body suffers together with the body and feels in unison with it.
When a weapon with a shutter-causing force has been driven in and has laid bare bones and sinews within the body,
if it does not take life, yet there ensues a faintness and a lazy sinking to the body,
the ground, and on the ground the turmoil of mind which arises, and sometimes a kind of undecided
inclination to get up. Therefore, the nature of the mind must be bodily, since it suffers from bodily
weapons and blows. I will now go on to explain in my verses of what kind of body the mind consists
and out of what it is formed. First of all, I say that it is extremely fine and formed of exceedingly
minute bodies. That this is so you may, if you please to attend, clearly perceive from what follows.
Nothing that is seen takes place with a velocity equal to that of the mind when it starts some
suggestion and actually sets it a going. And mind, therefore, is stirred with greater rapidity
than any of the things whose nature stands out visible to sight. But that which is so passing nimble
must consist of seeds exceedingly round and exceedingly minute in order to be stirred and set in motion
by a small moving power. Thus water is moved and heaves by ever so small a force, formed as it is
of small particles apt to roll. But on the other hand, the nature of honey is more sticky.
It's liquid more sluggish, and its movement more dilatory. For the whole mass of matter
coheres more closely, because sure enough, it is made of bodies not so smooth, fine, and round.
A breeze, however, gentle and light, can force, as you may see, a high heap of poppy seed to be
blown away from the top downwards, but on the other hand, Eurus itself cannot move a heap of stones.
Therefore, bodies possess a power of moving in proportion to their smallness and smoothness.
And on the other hand, the greater weight and roughness bodies prove to have, the more stable they are.
Since then, the nature of the mind has been found to be eminently easy to move.
It must consist of bodies, exceedingly small, smooth, and round.
The knowledge of which fact my good friend will on many accounts prove useful and be serviceable to you.
The following fact, too, likewise demonstrates how fine the texture
is of which its nature is composed, and how small the room is in which it can be contained,
could it only be collected into one mass? Soon as the untroubled sleep of death has gotten hold of a man,
and the nature of the mind and soul has withdrawn, you can perceive then no diminution of the
entire body, either in appearance or weight. Death makes all good save the vital sense
and heat. Therefore, the whole soul must consist of very small seeds and be interwoven through veins
and flesh and sinews, inasmuch as after it has all withdrawn from the whole body,
the exterior contour of the limbs preserves itself entire, and not a tittle of the weight is lost.
Just in the same way, when the flavor of wine is gone, or when the delicious aroma of a
perfume has been dispersed into the air, or when the savor has left some body, yet the thing itself
does not therefore look smaller to the eye, nor does aught seem to have been taken from the weight,
because sure enough, many minute seeds make up the savers and the odor in the whole body of the
several things. Therefore, again and again I say you are to know that the nature of the mind and
the soul has been formed of exceedingly minute seeds, since at its departure it takes away none of the
weight. We are not, however, to suppose that this nature is single, for a certain subtle spirit,
mixed with heat, quits men at death, and then the heat draws air along with it, there being no heat,
which has not air too, mixed with it. For since its nature is rare, many first beginnings of
must move about through it. Thus the nature of the mind is proved to be threefold, and yet these
things altogether are not sufficient to produce sense, since the fact of the case does not admit that
any of these can produce sense-giving motions, and the thoughts which a man turns over in mind.
Thus some fourth nature too must be added to these. It is altogether without name,
than it nothing exists more nimble or more fine or of smaller or smoother elements.
It first transmits the sense-giving motions through the frame,
for it is first stirred, made up as it is of small particles.
Next, the heat and the unseen force of the spirit receive the motions,
then the air, then all things are set in action.
The blood is stirred. Every part of the flesh is filled with sense,
sensation. Last of all, the feeling is transmitted to the bones and marrow, whether it be one of
pleasure or an opposite excitement. No pain, however, can lightly pierce thus far, nor any sharp
malady make its way in, without all things being so thoroughly disordered that no room is left for life,
and the parts of the soul fly abroad through all the pores of the body. But commonly as stop is put to
these motions on the surface, as it were of the body, for this reason we are able to retain life.
Now, though I would fain explain in what way these are mixed up together, by what means united,
when they exert their powers, the poverty of my native speech deters me sorely against my will.
Yet will I touch upon them, and in summary fashion, to the best of my ability.
The first beginnings by their mutual motions are interlaced in such a way that none of them can be separated by itself, nor can the function of any go on divided from the rest by any interval.
but they are so to say the several powers of one body even so in any flesh of living creature you please without exception
there is smell and some color and a savor and yet out of all these is made up one single bulk of body thus the heat and the air and the unseen power of the spirit mixed together produce a single nature together with that nimble force
which transmits to them from itself, the origin of motion. By which means, sense-giving motion first
takes its rise through the fleshly frame. For this nature lurks secreted in its inmost depths,
and nothing in our body is farther beneath all can than it. And more than this, it is the very
soul of the whole soul. Just in the same way as the power of the mind and the function of the soul are
latent in our limbs and throughout our body, because they are each formed of small and few bodies.
Even so you are to know, this nameless power made of minute bodies is concealed, and is,
moreover, the very soul, so to say, of the whole soul, and reign supreme in the whole body.
On a like principle, the spirit and air and heat must, as they exert their powers, be mixed up together
through the frame, and one must ever be more out of you or more prominent than another,
that a single substance may be seen to be formed from the union of all, lest the heat and spirit
apart by themselves and the power of the air apart by itself, should destroy sense and dissipate it
by their disunion. Thus the mind possesses that heat which it displays when it boils up in anger,
and fire flashes from the keen eyes.
There is too much cold spirit, comrade of fear, which spreads a shivering over the limbs and
stirs the whole frame. Yes, and there is also that condition of still air, which has place when the
breast is calm and the looks cheerful. But they have more of the hot, whose keen heart and passionate
mind lightly boil up in anger. Foremost in this class comes the fierce violence of lions,
who often as they chafe break their hearts with their roaring,
and cannot contain within their breast the billows of their rage.
Then the chilly mind of stags is fuller of the spirit,
and more quickly rouses through all the flesh its icy currents,
which cause a shivering motion to pass over the limbs.
But the nature of oxen has its life rather from the still air,
and never does the smoky torch of anger apply to it,
stimulate it too much, shedding over it the shadow of murky gloom, nor is it transfixed and
stiffened by the icy shafts of fear. It lies between the other two, stags and cruel lions.
And thus it is with mankind. However much teaching renders some equally refined, it yet leaves
behind those earliest traces of the nature of each mind, and we are not to suppose that evil
habits can be so thoroughly plucked up by the roots, that one man shall not be more prone than another
to keen anger. A second shall be somewhat more quickly assailed by fear. A third shall not take some things
more meekly than is right. In many other points there must be differences between the varied
natures of men and the tempers which follow upon these, though at present I am unable to set forth the
hidden causes of these or to find names enough for the different shapes which belong to the first
beginnings, from which shapes arises this diversity of things. What herein I think I may affirm is this.
Traces of the different natures left behind, which reason is unable to expel from us,
are so exceedingly slight that there is nothing to hinder us from living a life worthy of gods.
End of Section 14.
Section 15 of On the Nature of Things by Titus Lucretius Karras.
This Librovoc's recording is in the public domain, read by Pamela Nagami.
Book 3, Part 3.
Well, this nature is contained by the whole body and is, in turn, the body's guardian and the cause of its existence.
For the two adhere together with common rule.
and cannot it is plain be riven asunder without destruction. Even as it is not easy to pluck the
perfume out of lumps of frankincense without quite destroying its nature as well, so it is not easy to
withdraw from the whole body, the nature of the mind and soul, without dissolving all alike.
With first beginnings, so interlaced from their earliest birth, as they are formed and gifted with a life of
joint partnership, and it is plain that the faculty of the body and of the mind cannot feel
separately, each alone without the other's power. But sense is kindled throughout our flesh and
blown into flame between the two by the joint motions on the part of both. Moreover, the body by
itself is never either begotten or grows, or it is plain continues to exist after death. For not
in the way that the liquid of water often loses the heat which has been given to it,
yet is not for that reason itself riven in pieces but remains unimpaired.
Not in this way I say, can the abandoned frame endure the separation of the soul,
but riven in pieces it utterly perishes and rots away.
Thus the mutual connections of body and soul from the first moment of their existence,
learn the vital motions even while hid in the body and womb of the mother, so that no separation
can take place without mischief and ruin. Thus, you may see that since the cause of existence
lies in their joint action, their nature too must be a joint nature. Furthermore, if anyone tries to
disprove that the body feels and believes that the soul mixed through the whole body takes upon it
this motion, which we name sense, he combats even manifest and undoubted facts.
For who will ever bring forward any explanation of what the body's feeling is,
except that which the plain fact of the case has itself given and taught to us.
But when the soul it is said has departed, the body throughout is without sense.
Yes, for it loses what was not its own peculiar.
your property in life, aye, and much else it loses, before that soul is driven out of it.
Again to say that the eyes can see no object, but that the soul discerns through them as through
an open door, is far from easy, since their sense contradicts this, for this sense even draws it
and forces it out to the pupil. Nay, often we are unable to perceive shining things, and,
things, because our eyes are embarrassed by the lights. But this is not the case with doors,
for because we ourselves see, the open doors do not, therefore, undergo any fatigue. Again,
if our eyes are in the place of doors, in that case, when the eyes are removed, the mind ought,
it would seem, to have more power of seeing things after doors, jams and all have been taken.
out of the way. And herein you must by no means adopt the opinion which the revered judgment of the
worthy man Democritus lays down. That the first beginnings of body and mind, placed together in
successive layers, come in alternate order, and so weave the tissue of our limbs. For not only are the
elements of the soul much smaller than those of which our body and flesh are formed, but they are also much
fewer in number, and are disseminated merely in scanty number through the frame,
so that you can warrant no more than this. The first beginnings of the soul keep spaces between
them at least as great as are the smallest bodies which have thrown upon it are first able to
excite in our body the sense-giving motions. Thus at times we do not feel the adhesion of dust
when it settles on our body,
nor the impact of chalk
when it rests on our limbs.
Nor do we feel
a mist at night,
nor a spider's slender threads
as they come against us
when we are caught in its meshes
in moving along,
nor the same insects
flimsy web when it has fallen on our head,
nor the feathers of birds
and down of plants as it flies about,
which commonly from exceeding lightness
does not lightly fall, nor do we feel the tread of every creeping creature whatsoever,
nor each particular footprint which gnats and the like stamp on our body.
So very many first beginnings must be stirred in us,
before the seeds of the soul mixed up in our bodies feel that these have been disturbed,
and by thumping with such spaces between, can clash, unite, and nigh, and
in turn recoil. End of Section 15. Section 16 of On the Nature of Things by Titus Lucretius
Carus. This Librovox recording is in the public domain, read by Pamela Nogami. Book 3, Part 4.
The mind has more to do with holding the fastnesses of life and has more sovereign sway over it than the
power of the soul. For without the understanding in the mind, no part of the soul can maintain itself in the
frame the smallest fraction of time, but follows at once in the other's train and passes away into the
air and leaves the cold limbs in the chill of death. But he abides in life, whose mind and understanding
continue to stay with him, though the trunk is mangled with its limbs shorn all round about it,
After the soul has been taken away on all sides and been severed from the limbs, the trunk yet
lives and inhales the ethereal airs of life. When robbed, if not of the whole, yet of a large
portion of the soul, it still lingers in and cleaves to life. Just as, after the eye has been
lacerated all round, if the pupil has continued uninjured, the living power of sight remains,
Provided always, you do not destroy the whole ball of the eye, and pair close round the pupil,
and leave only it, for that will not be done even to the ball without the entire destruction of the eye.
But if that middle portion of the eye, small as it is, is eaten into, the sight is gone at once,
and darkness ensues, though a man have the bright ball quite unimpaired.
on such terms of union, soul and mind are ever bound to each other. Now mark me that you may know that the minds and light souls of living creatures have birth and are mortal. I will go on to set forth verses worthy of your attention, got together by long study and invented with welcome effort. Do you mind to link to one name both of them alike, and when, for instance, I shall choose to speak of
the soul, showing it to be mortal, believe that I speak of the mind as well, inasmuch as both
make up one thing and our one united substance. First of all, then, since I have shown the soul
to be fine and to be formed of minute bodies and made up of much smaller first beginnings,
than is the liquid of water or mist or smoke. For it far surpasses these in nimbleness and is
moved when struck by a far slenderer cause in as much as it is moved by images of smoke and mist,
as when, for instance, sunk in sleep, we see altars steam forth their heat and send up their smoke on high.
For beyond a doubt, images are begotten for us from these things.
Well, then, since you see on the vessels being shattered, the water flow away on all sides,
and since mist and smoke pass away into air.
Believe that the soul, too, is shed abroad and perishes much more quickly
and dissolves sooner into its first bodies,
when once it has been taken out of the limbs of a man and has withdrawn.
For when the body that serves for its vessel cannot hold it,
if shattered from any cause and rarefied by the withdrawal of blood from the veins,
how can you believe that this soul can be held by any air?
How can that air, which is rarer than our body, hold it in?
Again we perceive that the mind is begotten along with the body
and grows up together with it and becomes old along with it.
For even as children go about with a tottering and weakly body,
so slender sagacity of mind follows along with it,
then when their life has reached the maturity of confirmed strength, the judgment too is greater,
and the power of the mind more developed. Afterwards, when the body has been shattered by the
mastering might of time and the frame has drooped with its forces dulled, then the intellect halts,
the tongue dotes, the mind gives way. All faculties fail and are found wanting at the same,
time. It naturally follows then that the whole nature of the soul is dissolved like smoke into the
high air, since we see it is begotten along with the body and grows up along with it, and as I have shown,
breaks down at the same time worn out with age. Moreover, we see that even as the body is liable to
violent diseases and severe pain, so is the mind to sharp cares and grief and fear. It naturally
follows, therefore, that it is its partner in death as well. Again, in diseases of the body,
the mind often wanders and goes astray, for it loses its reason and drivels in its speech,
and often in a profound lethargy is carried into deep and never-ending sleep with drooping eyes
and head, out of which it neither hears the voices, nor can recognize the faces of those who stand
round, calling it back to life, and bedewing with tears, face and cheeks.
Therefore, you must admit that the mind too dissolves, since the infection of disease reaches to
it, for pain and disease are both forgers of death, a truth we have fully learned ere now by
the death of many. Again, when the pungent strength of wine has entered into a man,
and its spirit has been infused into and transmitted through his veins, why is it that a heaviness
of the limbs follows along with this? His legs are hampered as he reels about. His tongue falters.
His mind is besotted. His eyes swim, shouting, hiccuping wranglings are rife, together with all
the other usual concomitants. Why is all this? If not because the overpowering violence of the
wine is wont to disorder the soul within the body. But whenever things can be disordered and hampered,
they give token that if a somewhat more potent cause gained an entrance, they would perish and be robbed
of all further existence. Moreover, it often happens that someone constrained by the violence
of disease suddenly drops down before our eyes, as by a stroke of lightning and foams at the mouth,
moans and shivers through his frame, loses his reason, stiffens his muscles, is racked,
gasps for breath fitfully, and wearies his limbs with tossing. Sure enough, because the violence of
the disease spreads itself through his frame and disorders him, he foams as he tries to eject his
soul, just as in the salt sea the waters boil with the mastering might of the winds. A moan, too, is
forced out, because the limbs are seized with pain, and mainly because seeds of voice are driven forth
and are carried in a close mass out of the mouth, the road which they are accustomed to take,
and where they have a well-paved way. Loss of reason follows because the powers of the mind and soul are
disordered, and, as I have shown are riven and forced asunder, torn to pieces by the same
baneful malady. Then, after the cause of the disease has bent its course back, and the acrid humors of
the distempered body return to their hiding places, then he first gets up like one reeling, and by little and
little, comes back into full possession of his senses and regains his soul. Since therefore,
even within the body, mind and soul are harassed by such violent distempers and so miserably
racked by sufferings, why believe that they, without the body in the open air, can continue
existence battling with fierce winds? And since we perceive that the mind is healed like,
the sick body, and we see that it can be altered by medicine, this too gives warning that the mind
has a mortal existence. For it is natural that whosoever assays and attempts to change the mind or
seeks to alter any other nature you like should add new parts or change the arrangement of the
present or withdraw in short some tittle from the sum. But that which is immortal wills not to have its
parts transposed, nor any addition to be made, nor one tiddle to ebb away. For whenever a thing
changes and quits its proper limits, this change is at once the death of that which was before.
Therefore, the mind, whether it is sick or whether it is altered by medicine alike,
as I have shown, gives forth mortal symptoms. So invariably is truth found to make head against
false reason, and to cut off all retreat from the assailant, and by a two-fold refutation to put
falsehood to rout. End of Section 16. Section 17 of On the Nature of Things by Titus Lucretius
Karras. This Librovox recording is in the public domain, read by Pamela Nagami. Book 3, Part 5.
Again we often see a man pass gradually away, and limb by limb lose vital sense.
First, the toes of his feet, and the nails turned livid. Then the feet and shanks die.
Then next, the steps of chilly death creep with slow pace over the other members.
Therefore, since the nature of the soul is rent and passes away, and does not at one time stand
forth in its entireness, it must be reckoned more.
mortal. But if happily you suppose that it can draw itself in through the whole frame and mass its
parts together, and in this way withdraw sense from all the limbs, yet then that spot into which
so great a store of soul is gathered, ought to show itself in possession of a greater
amount of sense. But as this is nowhere found, sure enough, as we said before, it is torn in pieces
and scattered abroad and therefore dies.
Moreover, if I were pleased for the moment to grant what is false,
and admit, that the soul might be collected in one mass
in the body of those who leave the light dying piecemeal,
even then you must admit the soul to be mortal,
and it makes no difference whether it perish dispersed in air
or gathered into one lump out of all its parts,
lose all feeling, since since evermore and more fails the whole man throughout, and less and less
of life remains throughout. And since the mind is one part of a man which remains fixed in a
particular spot, just as are the ears and eyes and the other senses which guide and direct life,
and just as the hand or eye or nose, when separated from us, cannot feel and exist apart.
but in however short a time passes away in putrefaction. Thus the mind cannot exist by itself without the
body, and the man's self which, as you see, serves for the mind's vessel, or anything else you choose
to imagine, which implies a yet closer union with it, since the body is attached to it by the nearest
ties. Again, the quickened powers of body and mind by their joint partnership, enjoy health and
life, for the nature of the mind cannot by itself alone without the body, give forth vital motions,
nor can the body again bereft of the soul, continue to exist and make use of its senses.
Just you are to know, as the eye itself, torn away from its roots, cannot see anything,
when apart from the whole body. Thus the soul and mind cannot, it is plain, do anything by themselves.
sure enough because mixed up through veins and flesh, sinews and bones, their first beginnings
are confined by all the body, and are not free to bound away, leaving great spaces between.
Therefore, thus shut in, they make those sense-giving motions, which they cannot make after death,
when forced out of the body into the air, by reason that they are not then confined in a like manner.
the air will be a body and a living thing if the soul shall be able to keep itself together
and to enclose in it those motions which it used before to perform in the sinews and within the body.
Moreover, even while it yet moves within the confines of life, often the soul shaken from some
cause or other is seen to wish to pass out and be loosed from the whole body.
the features are seen to droop as at the last hour, and all the limbs to sink flaccid over the bloodless
trunk. Just as happens when the phrase is used, the mind is in a bad way, or the soul is quite gone.
When all is hurry and everyone is anxious to keep from parting the last tie of life,
for then the mind and the power of the soul are shaken throughout, and both are quite loosened
together with the body, so that a cause somewhat more powerful can quite break them up.
Why doubt, I would ask, that the soul, when driven forth out of the body, when in the open air,
feeble as it is, stripped of its covering, not only cannot continue through eternity, but is unable
to hold together the smallest fraction of time. Therefore, again and again I say,
when the enveloping body has been all broken up and the vital airs have been forced out,
you must admit that the senses of the mind and the soul are dissolved,
since the cause of destruction is one and inseparable for both body and soul.
End of Section 17.
Section 18 of On the Nature of Things by Titus Lucretius Karras.
This Librovoc's recording is in the public don't.
Maine, read by Pamela Nagami, book three, part six. Again, since the body is unable to bear the
separation of the soul without rotting away in a noisome stench, why doubt that the power of the
soul gathering itself up from the inmost depths of the body has oozed out and dispersed like smoke?
And that the crumbling body has changed and tumbled in with so total or
ruin for this reason, because its foundations throughout are stirred from their places, the soul
oozing out abroad through the frame, through all the winding passages which are in the body and all
openings. So that in ways manifold you may learn, that the nature of the soul has been divided
piecemeal and gone forth throughout the frame, and that it has been torn to shreds within the body,
ere it glided forth and swam out into the air.
For no one when dying appears to feel the soul go forth and tire from his whole body,
or first mount up to the throat and gullet.
But all feel it fail in that part which lies in a particular quarter,
just as they know that the senses as well suffer dissolution,
each in its own place.
But if our mind were immortal, it would not, when dying, complain so much of its dissolution,
as of passing abroad and quitting its vesture like a snake.
Again, why are the mind's understanding and judgment never be gotten in the head or feet or hands,
but cling in all alike to one spot and fixed quarter,
if it be not that particular places are assigned for the birth of everything,
and nature has determined where each is to continue to exist after it is born.
Our body then must follow the same law and have such a manifold organization of parts
that no perverted arrangement of its members shall ever show itself.
So invariably effect follows cause,
nor is flame won't to be born in rivers nor cold in fire.
Again, if the nature of the soul is a more,
mortal and can feel when separated from our body, methinks we must suppose it to be provided with
five senses, and in no other way can we picture to ourselves souls below flitting about Akron.
Painters, therefore, and former generations of writers have thus represented souls provided
with senses. But neither eyes nor nose nor hand can exist for the soul apart from the body,
nor can tongue, nor can ears perceive by the sense of hearing, or exist for the soul by themselves,
apart from the body. And since we perceive that vital sense is in the whole body, and we see that it is
all endowed with life, if a sudden any force with swift blow shall have cut it in twain,
so as quite to dissever the two halves, the power of the soul will without doubt at the same time be cleft,
and cut asunder, and dashed in twain together with the body. But that which is cut and divides into
any parts, you are to know, disclaims for itself an everlasting nature. Stories are told how
sithed chariots reeking with indiscriminate slaughter often lop off limbs so instantaneously
that that which has fallen down lopped off from the frame is seen to quiver on the ground,
while yet the mind and faculty of the man, from the suddenness of the mischief, cannot feel the pain.
And because his mind, once for all, is wholly given to the business of fighting,
with what remains of his body, he mingles in the fray and carnage,
and often perceives not, that the wheels and devouring scyths have carried off among the horse's feet,
his left-arm shield, and all.
Another sees not that his right hand has dropped from him while he mounts and presses forward.
Another tries to get up after he has lost his leg, while the dying foot quivers with its toes on the ground close by.
The head, too, when cut off from the warm and living trunk, retains on the ground the expression of life and open eyes
until it has yielded up all the remnants of soul.
To take another case, if as a serpent's tongue is quivering, as its tail is darting out from its long
body, you choose to chop with an axe into many pieces, both tail and body, you will see all the
separate parts thus cut off, writhing under the fresh wound and bespattering the earth with gore,
the forepart with the mouth making for its own hinder part, to allay with burning bite, the pain of the
wound with which it has been smitten.
Shall we say, then, that there are entire souls in all those pieces?
Why, from that argument, it will follow that one living creature has many souls in its
body, and this being absurd, therefore the soul, which was one, has been divided together with
the body.
Therefore, each alike must be reckoned mortal, since each is alike chopped up into many
pieces. Again, if the nature of the soul is immortal and makes its way into our body at the time of
birth, why are we unable to remember besides the time already gone? And why do we retain no traces
of past actions? If the power of the mind has been so completely changed that all remembrance
of past things is lost, that methinks differs not widely from death. Therefore, you must admit,
that the soul which was before has perished, and that which now is, has now been formed.
End of Section 18. Section 19 of On the Nature of Things by Titus Lucretius Chorus.
This Libravox recording is in the public domain read by Pamelaan Agami.
Book 3, Part 7.
This two men often, when they have reclined a table, cup in hand, and shade their brows with crowns,
love to say from the heart, short is this enjoyment for poor weak men. Presently it will have been,
and never after may it be called back. As if after their death it is to be one of their chiefest
afflictions that thirst and parching drought is to burn them up hapless wretches, or a craving for anything else,
is to beset them. What folly! No one feels the want of himself and life at the time when mind and body
are together sunken sleep? For all we care, this sleep might be everlasting. No craving whatever
for ourselves then moves us. And yet by no means do those first beginnings throughout our frame
wander at that time, far away from their sense-producing motions, at the moment when a man starts up from
sleep and collects himself. Death, therefore, must be thought to concern us much less,
if less there can be, than what we see to be nothing, for a greater dispersion of the mass
of matter follows after death, and no one wakes up upon whom the chill cessation of life has
once come. Once more, if the nature of things could suddenly utter a voice, and in person could
rally any of us in such words as these,
what hast thou, O mortal, so much at heart,
that thou goest such lengths and sickly sorrows?
Why bemoan and bewail death?
For say thy life past and gone has been welcome to thee,
and thy blessings of not all,
as if they were poured into a perforated vessel,
run through and been lost without a veil.
Why not rather make an end of life and travail?
for there is nothing more which I can contrive and discover for thee to give pleasure.
All things are ever the same.
Though thy body is not yet decayed with years nor thy frame worn out and exhausted,
yet all things remain the same,
I, though in length of life, thou shouldst outlast all races of things now living,
nay, even more if thou shouldst never die.
What answer have we to make save this?
that nature sets up against us a well-founded claim,
and puts forth in her pleading a true indictment.
If, however, one of greater age and more advanced in years
should complain and lament for wretch's death more than is right,
would she not, with greater cause, raise her voice and rally him in sharp accents?
Away from this time forth with thy tears, rascal.
A truce to thy complainings.
thou decayest after full enjoyment of all the prizes of life. But because thou ever yearnest for what is not
present and despisest what is, life has slipped from thy grasp unfinished and unsatisfying.
And, or ever thou thoughtest, death has taken his stand at thy pillow, before thou canst take
thy departures sated and filled with good things. Now, however, resign all things on
suited to thy age, and with a good grace up and greatly go thou must.
With good reason, methinks, she would bring her charge, with reason, rally, and reproach.
For old things give way and are supplanted by new without fail, and one thing must ever be
replenished out of other things, and no one is delivered over to the pit and black tartarus.
Matter is needed for after generations to grow. All of which, though, will follow
thee when they have finished their term of life, and thus it is, that all these no less than
thou have before this come to an end, and hereafter will come to an end. Thus one thing will
never cease to rise out of another, and life is granted to none in fee simple, to all in
usufruct. Think, too, how the bygone antiquity of everlasting time before our birth was nothing
to us. Nature therefore holds this up to us as a mirror of the time yet to come after our death.
Is there aught in this that looks appalling? Ought that wears an aspect of gloom? Is it not more
in trouble than any sleep? And those things, sure enough, which are fabled to be in the deep of Acheron,
do all exist for us in this life. No tantalus, numbed by groundless terror,
as the story is, fears poor wretch a huge stone hanging in air, but in life rather a baseless dread
of the gods vexes mortals. The fall they fear is such fall of luck as chances bring to each.
Nor do birds eat away into Titias laid in Akron, nor can they, sooth to say, find during eternity
food to peck under his large breast. However, huge, huge.
the bulk of body he extends, those such as to take up with outspread limbs, not nine acres merely,
but the whole earth. Yet will he not be able to endure everlasting pain and supply food from his own
body forever? But he is to us a titios whom as he grovels in love, vultures rend, and bitter,
anguish eats up or troubled thoughts from any other passion derive. In life, too, we have a
Sisyphus before our eyes, who is bent on asking from the people the rods and cruel axes,
and always retires defeated and disappointed. For to ask for power, which empty as it is is never
given, and always in the chase of it to undergo severe toil, this is forcing uphill with much effort
a stone, which after all rolls back again from the summit, and seeks in headlong haste the
levels of the plain. Then to be ever feeding the thankless nature of the mind, and never to fill it
full and sate it with good things as the seasons of the year do for us, when they come round and
bring their fruits and varied delights, though after all we are never filled with the enjoyments of life,
This methinks is to do what is told of the maidens in the flower of their age
to keep pouring water into a perforated vessel which in spite of all can never be filled full.
Moreover, Cerberus and the furies and yon privation of light
are idle tales as well as all the rest.
Ixion's wheel and black tartarus belching forth hideous fires from his throat
things which nowhere are nor sooth to say can be.
But there is in life a dread of punishment for evil deeds, signal as the deeds are signal,
and for atonement of guilt, the prison and the frightful hurling down from the rock,
scourgings, executioners, the dungeon of the doomed, the pitch, the metal plate, torches.
And even though these are wanting, yet the conscience-stricken mind through boating fears
applies to itself goads and frightens itself with whips, and sees not, meanwhile, what end there
can be of ills or what limit at last is to be set to punishments, and fears lest these very
evils be enhanced after death. The life of fools at length becomes a hell here on earth.
This too you may sometimes say to yourself, even worthy Ancus has quitted the light with his eyes,
who was far, far better than thou, unconscionable man.
And since then many other kings and kisers have been laid low,
who lorded it over mighty nations.
He too, even he who erst paved away over the great sea,
and made a path for his legions to march over the deep,
and taught them to pass on foot over the salt pools,
and set at naught the roarings of the sea,
trampling on them with his horses,
and the light taken from him and shed forth his soul from his dying body.
The son of the Scipio's, thunderbolt of war, terror of Carthage,
yielded his bones to earth just as if he were the lowest menial.
Think two of the inventors of all sciences and graceful arts.
Think of the companions of the Heliconian maids,
among whom Homer bore the scepter without a peer,
and he now sleeps the same sleep as others.
Then there is Democritus, who in a ripe old age had warned him
that the memory-waking motions of his mind were waning,
by his own spontaneous act, offered up his head to death.
Even Epicurus passed away, when his light of life had run its course.
He who surpassed in intellect the race of man,
and quenched the light of all as the earth.
ethereal sun arisen quenches the stars. Will thou then hesitate and think it a hardship to die?
Thou, for whom life is well-nigh dead whilst yet thou livest, and seest the light, and snorrest wide
awake, and ceased not to see visions, and hast a mind troubled with groundless terror, and canst not
discover often what it is that ails thee? When, besotted man, thou art sore pressed on all
sides with full many cares, and goest astray tumbling about in the wayward wanderings of thy mind.
If, just as they are seen to feel, that a load is on their mind which wears them out with its
pressure, men might apprehend from what causes to it is produced, and whence such a pile, if I may
say so, of ill lies on their breast, they would not spend their life as we see them now,
for the most part do, not knowing any one of them what he means and wanting ever change of place
as though he might lay his burden down. The man who is sick of home often issues forth from his
large mansion and as suddenly comes back to it, finding as he does that he is no better off abroad.
He races to his country house driving his genets in headlong haste as if hurrying to bring help to a house
on fire. He yawns the moment he has reached the door of his house, or sinks heavily into sleep
and seeks forgetfulness, or even in haste goes back again to town. In this way, each man flies from himself,
but self, from whom, as you may be sure is commonly the case he cannot escape, clings to him
in his own despite. Hates to himself because he is sick and knows not the cause of the malady.
for if he could rightly see into this, relinquishing all else, each man would study to learn the
nature of things, since the point at stake is the condition for eternity, not for one hour,
in which mortals have to pass all the time which remains for them to expect after death.
Once more, what evil lust of life is this which constrains us with such force to be so mightily
troubled in doubts and dangers. A sure term of life is fixed for mortals, and death cannot be shunned,
but meet it we must. Moreover, we are ever engaged, ever involved in the same pursuits,
and no new pleasure is struck out by living on, but whilst what we crave is wanting,
it seems to transcend all the rest. Then, when it has been gotten, we crave something else,
and ever does the same thirst of life possess us as we gape for it open-mouthed.
Quite doubtful it is what fortune the future will carry with it,
or what chance will bring us, or what end is at hand.
Nor by prolonging life do we take one tittle from the time passed in death,
nor can we fret anything away,
whereby we may happily be a less long time in the condition of the dead.
therefore you may complete as many generations as you please during your life nonetheless however
will that everlasting death await you and for no less long a time will he be no more in being
who beginning with today has ended his life than the man who has died many months and years ago
End of Section 19.
Section 20 of On the Nature of Things by Titus Lucretius Karras.
This Libra Box recording is in the public domain, read by Pamelaan Agami.
Book 4, Part 1
I traversed the pathless haunts of the Piarides, never yet trodden by soul of man.
I love to approach the untasted springs and to coiff.
I love to call fresh flowers and gather for my head a distinguished crown from spots
whence the muses have yet veiled the brows of none.
First, because I teach of great things an essay to release the mind from the fast bonds of religious
scruples. And next, because on a dark subject, I pen such lucid verses overlaying all with the
muse's charm. For that, too, it seemed to be not without good grounds. Even as physicians when they
proposed to give nauseous wormwood to children, first smear the rim round the bowl with the sweet yellow
juice of honey, that the unthinking age of children may be fooled as far as the lips, and meanwhile
drink up the bitter draft of wormwood, and though beguiled, yet not be betrayed. But rather by such
means recover health and strength. So I now, since this doctrine seems generally somewhat bitter to
those by whom it has not been handled, and the multitude shrinks back from it in dismay,
have resolved to set forth to you our doctrine in sweet-toned Peerrian verse, and overlay it,
as it were, with the pleasant honey of the muses. If happily by such means, I might engage your
mind on my verses, till such time as you apprehend all the nature of things and thoroughly feel
what use it has. And now that I have taught what the nature of the mind is, and out of what things
it is formed into one quickened being with the body, and how it is dissevered and returns into its
first beginnings, I will attempt to lay before you a truth which most nearly concerns these
questions, the existence of things which we call idols of things. These like films peeled off
from the surface of things, fly to and fro through the air, and do likewise frighten our minds when
they present themselves to us awake as well as in sleep. What time we behold strange shapes and
idols of the light bereaved, which have often startled us in appalling wise as we lay relaxed
and sleep? And this I will essay that we may not happily believe that souls break loose from Akron,
or that shades fly about among the living, or that something of us is left behind after death,
when the body and the nature of the mind destroyed together have taken their departure into
their several first beginnings. I say then that pictures of things and thin shapes are emitted from
things off their surface to which an image serves as a kind of film, or name it, if you like,
a rind. Because such image bears an appearance and form like to the thing whatever it is,
from whose body it is shed and wanders forth. This you may learn, however, dull of apprehension,
from what follows. First of all, since among things open to sight, many emit bodies,
some in a state of loose diffusion, like smoke which logs of oak, heat which fires emit,
some of a closer and denser texture, like the gossamer coats which at times cicadas doff in summer,
and the films which calves at their birth cast from the surface of their body,
as well as the vesture which the slippery serpent puts off among the thorns.
For often we see the brambles enriched with their flying spoils,
Since these cases occur, a thin image likewise must be emitted from things off their surface.
For why those films should drop off and withdraw from things, rather than films which are really thin,
not one tittle of proof can be given, especially since there are on the surface of things
many minute bodies which may be discharged in the same order they had before
and preserve the outline of the shape, and be discharged with far more velocity,
inasmuch as they are less liable to get hampered being few in number and stationed in the front
rank. For without doubt, we see many things discharge and freely give, not only from the core
and center, as we said before, but from their surfaces, besides other things, color itself.
And this is commonly done by yellow and red and dark blue awnings, when they are spread over large
theaters, and flutter and wave as they stretch across their poles and crossbeams. For then,
they dye the seated assemblage below, and all the show of the stage and the richly attired
company of the fathers, and compel them to dance about in their color. And the more these objects
are shut in all round by the walls of the theatre,
the more do all of them within, laugh on all hands,
overlaid with graceful hues,
the light of day being narrowed.
Therefore, since sheets of canvas emit color from their surfaces,
all things will naturally emit thin pictures too,
since in each case alike they discharge from the surface.
There are, therefore, as now shown,
sure outlines of shapes which fly all about possessed of an exquisitely small thickness and cannot,
when separate, be seen one at a time. Again, all smell, smoke, heat, and other such-like things
stream off things in a state of diffusion, because while they are coming from the depths of the
body, having arisen within it, they are torn in their winding passage, and there are no straight
orifices to the paths for them to make their way out by in a mass.
But on the other hand, when a thin film of surface color is discharged, there is nothing to rend it,
since it is ready to hand stationed in front rank.
Lastly, in the case of all idols which show themselves to us in mirrors, in water,
or any other shining object, since their outsides are possessed of an appearance like to the things
they represent, they must be formed of emitted images of things. There are, therefore,
thin shapes and pictures like to the things, which though no one can see them one at a time,
yet when thrown off by constant and repeated reflection, give back a visible image from the
surface of mirrors, and in no other way, it would seem, can they be kept so entire that
shapes are given back so exceedingly like each object. Now mark and learn how thin the nature of an
image is. And first of all, since the first beginnings are so far below the ken of our senses,
and much smaller than the things which our eyes first begin to be unable to see, to strengthen
yet more the proof of this also, learn in a few words how minutely fine are the beginnings of all things.
First, living things are in some cases so very little that their third part cannot be seen at all.
Of what size are we to suppose any gut of such creature to be, or the ball of the heart,
or the eyes, the limbs, or any part of the frame?
How small they must be!
And then further, the several first beginnings of which their soul and the nature of their minds
must be formed.
Do you not perceive how fine, how minute they are?
Again in the case of all things which exhale from their body a pungent smell,
all heel, nauseous wormwood, strong-scented southern wood, and the bitter cintaries,
any one of which, if you happen, to feel it lightly between two fingers,
will impregnate them with a strong smell.
But rather you are to know that idols of things wander about many in number,
in many ways of no force powerless to excite sense.
But less happily, you suppose,
that only those idols of things which go off from things
and no others wander about,
there are likewise those which are spontaneously begotten
and are formed by themselves in this lower heaven,
which is called air.
These fashioned in many ways are born along on high,
and being in a fluid state, cease not to
alter their appearance and change it into the outline of shapes of every possible kind.
As we see clouds, sometimes gather into masses on high,
and blot the calm, clear face of heaven, fanning the air with their motion.
Thus often the faces of giants are seen to fly along,
and draw after them a far-spreading shadow.
Sometimes great mountains and rocks torn from the mountains are seen to go in advance,
and pass across the sun, and then some huge beast is observed to draw with it and bring on the other storm clouds.
Now I will proceed to show with what ease and celerity they are begotten, and how incessantly they flow and fall away from things.
The outermost surface is ever streaming off from things and admits of being discharged.
When this reaches some things, it passes through them, glass especially.
but when it reaches rough stones or the matter of wood, it is then so torn that it cannot give back any idle.
But when objects at once shining and dense have been put in its way, a mirror especially,
none of these results has place. It can neither pass through it, like glass, nor can it be torn either.
Such perfect safety the polished surface mines to ensure.
In consequence of this, idols stream back to us from such objects, and however suddenly at any
moment you place anything opposite a mirror, an image shows itself. Hence, you may be sure that
thin textures and thin shapes of things incessantly stream from their surface.
Therefore, many idols are begotten in a short time, so that the birth of such things is with good
reason named a rapid one. And as the sun must send forth many rays of light at a short time
in order that all things may be continually filled with it, so also for a like reason there must
be carried away from things in a moment of time, idols of things many in number,
in many ways, in all directions round. Since to whatever part of them we present a mirror
before their surfaces, other things correspond to these in the mirror of a like shape and like
color. Moreover, though the state of heaven has just before been of unsullied purity, with exceeding
suddenness, it becomes so hideously overcast that you might imagine all its darkness had abandoned
Acheron throughout and filled up the great faults of heaven. In such numbers do faces of black horror rise up
amid the frightful night of storm clouds and hang over us on high. Now there is no one who can tell
how small a fraction of these in images or express that sum in language. Now mark how swift the motion is
with which idols are borne along, and what velocity is assigned to them as they glide through the air,
so that but a short hour is spent on a journey through long space. Whatever the spot towards which
they go with a movement of varied tendency, all this I will tell in sweetly worded rather than in many
verses, as the short song of the swan is better than the loud noise of cranes scattered abroad
amid the ethereal clouds of the south. First of all, we may very well observe that things which are
light and made of minute bodies are swift. Of this kind are the light of the sun and its heat,
because they are made of minute first things, which are knocked forward, so to speak,
and do not hesitate to pass through the space of air between, ever driven on by a blow following behind.
For light on the instant is supplied by fresh light,
and brightness goaded to show its brightness in what you might call an ever on-moving team.
Therefore, in like manner, idols must be able to scour in a moment of time through space unspeakable,
First, because they are exceedingly small, and there is a cause at their back to carry and
impel them far forward, where, moreover, they move on with such winged lightness,
next because when emitted they are possessed of so rare a texture, that they can readily
pass through any things, and stream as it were, through the space of air between.
Again, if those minute bodies of things which are given out from the inmost depths of these
things, as the light and heat of the sun are seen in a moment of time to glide and spread themselves
through the length and breadth of heaven, fly over sea and lands and flood the heaven.
What then of those which stand ready posted in front rank, when they are discharged and
nothing obstructs their egress? How much faster you see and farther must they travel,
scouring through many times the same amount of space in the same time that the sunlight
takes to spread over heaven. This too appears to be an eminently true proof of the velocity with which
idols of things are borne along. As soon as ever the brightness of water is set down in the open air,
if the heaven is starry, in a moment, the clear radiant constellations of ether imaged in the
water correspond to those in the heaven. Now do you see in what a moment of time an image drops down from
the borders of heaven to the borders of earth?
Therefore, again and again I repeat, you must admit that bodies capable of striking the eyes
and of provoking vision constantly travel with a marvelous velocity.
Smells too incessantly stream from certain things, as does cold from rivers, heat from the
sun, spray from the waves of the sea that enter into walls near the shore.
Various sounds also cease not to fly through the air. Then, too, a moist salt flavor often comes into the mouth
when we are moving about beside the sea, and when we look on at the mixing of a decoction of wormwood,
its bitterness affects us. In such a constant stream from all things, the several qualities are
carried and are transmitted in all directions round, and no delay, no rest of,
but in the flow was ever granted, since we constantly have feeling, and may at any time
see, see, smell, and hear the sound of anything. End of Section 20. Section 21 of On the Nature of Things
by Titus Lucretius Carus. This Librovox recording is in the public domain read by Pamela Nagami.
Book 4, Part 2. Again, since a particular feature,
figure felt by the hands in the dark is known to be the same which is seen in the bright light of day,
touch and sight must be excited by a quite similar cause. Well then, if we handle a square thing
and it excites our attention in the dark, in the daylight, what square thing will be able
to fall on our sight except the image of that thing? Therefore, the cause of seeing it is plain
lies in images, and no thing can be perceived without them. Well, the idols of things I speak of
are born along all round, and are discharged and transmitted in all directions. But because we can
see with the eyes alone, the consequence is that to whatever point we turn our sight,
there all the several things meet and strike it with their shape and color. And the image gives the
power to see, and the means to distinguish how far each thing is distant from us, for as soon as
ever it is discharged, it pushes before it and impels all the air which lies between it and the
eyes. And thus, that air all streams through our eyes and brushes, so to say, the pupils,
and so passes through. The consequence is that we see how far distant each thing is,
and the greater the quantity of air which is driven on before it, and the larger the current which
brushes our eyes, the more distant each different thing is seen to be. You must know these processes
go on with extreme rapidity, so that at one and the same moment we see what like a thing is
and how far distant it is. And this must by no means be deemed strange herein, that while the idols which
strike the eyes cannot be seen one at a time, the things themselves are seen. For thus, when the wind
too beats us with successive strokes, and when piercing cold streams, we are not wont to feel
each single particle of that wind and cold, but rather the whole result. And then we perceive blows
take effect on our body, just as if something or other were beating it, and giving us a sensation of its
body outside. Again, when we thump a stone with a finger, we touch merely the outermost color on the
surface of the stone, and yet we do not feel that color by our touch, but rather we feel the very
hardness of the stone seated in its inmost depths. Now mark and learn why the image is seen
beyond the mirror, for without doubt it is seen withdrawn far within. The case is just the same as with
things which are viewed in their reality beyond a door, when it offers through it an unobstructed
prospect, and lets many things outside be seen from a house. That vision, too, is effected by two
separate airs. First, there is an air seen in such a case inside the doorway. Next, come the leaves of the
door right and left. Next, a light outside brushes the eyes. Then a second air. Then those things
outside which are viewed in their reality. Thus, when the image of the mirror has first discharged itself,
in coming to our sight, it pushes forward and impels all the air which lies between it and the
eyes, and enables us to see the whole of it before the mirror. But when we have perceived the mirror
as well, at once the image which is conveyed from us reaches the mirror, and then it is reflected
on comes back to our eyes, and drives on and rolls in front of it a second air,
and lets us see this before itself, and for this reason it looks so far withdrawn from the mirror.
Wherefore, again and again I repeat, there is no cause at all to wonder why the images
give back the reflection from the surface of mirrors in the spot they do,
since in both the given cases the result is produced by two heirs.
To proceed, the right side of our body is seen in mirrors to be on the left,
because when the image comes and strikes on the plane of the mirror, it is not turned back unaltered,
but is beaten out in a right line backwards, just as if you were to take a plaster mask
before it is dry and dash it on a pillar or beam, and it forthwith were to preserve the
outlines of its features undistorted in front, and were to strike out an exact copy of itself
straight backwards. The result will be that the eye which was right will now be left,
and conversely, the left will become right. An image may also be so transmitted from one mirror to another
that five or six idols are often produced, and thus all the things which lurk in the inmost
corners of a house, however far they are withdrawn into torturous recesses, may yet be all brought out
through winding passages by the aid of a number of mirrors and be seen to be in the house.
So unfailingly does the image reflect itself from mirror to mirror, and when the left side is presented
it becomes the right in the new image, then it is changed back again and turns round to what it was.
Moreover, all little sides of mirrors which possess a curvature resembling our side,
send back to us idols that with their right correspond to our right,
either for this reason, because the image is transmitted from one mirror to another,
and then after it has been twice struck out flies to us,
or else because the image, when it has come to the mirror, wheels about,
because the curved shape of the mirror teaches it to turn round and face us.
And again, you would think that idols step out and put down their foot at the same time with us
and mimic our action, because, from before whatever part of a mirror you move away,
from that part forth with no idols can be reflected, since nature constrains all things
when they are carried back and recoil from things to be given back at angles equal to those at which they impinged.
Bright things again, the eyes eschew and shunned to look upon.
The sun even blinds them if you persist in turning them towards it, because its power is great,
and idols are borne through the clear air with great downward force from on high,
and strike the eyes and disorder their fastenings.
Moreover, any vivid brightness often burns the eyes, because it contains many seeds of fire which make a way in and beget pain in the eyes.
Again, whatever the jaundiced look at becomes a greenish-yellow, because many seeds of greenish-yellow stream from their body and meet the idols of things, and many two are mixed up in their eyes, and these by their infection tinge all things with sallow hues.
Again, we can see out of the dark things which are in the light for this reason.
When the black air of darkness being the nearer has first entered and taken possession of the open eyes,
the bright white air follows straightway after and cleanses them, so to say,
and dispels the black shadows of the other air, for this is a great deal more nimble,
a great deal more subtle and more efficacious.
As soon as it has filled with light and opened up the passages of the eyes which the black
air has before blocked up, forthwith the idols of things which are situated in the light,
follow and excite them so that we see.
This we cannot do conversely in the dark, out of the light, because the grosser air of darkness
follows behind and quite fills all the openings and blocks up the passages of the eyes,
not letting the idols of any things at all be thrown into the eyes to move them.
Again, when we describe far off the square towers of a town,
they often appear to be round for this reason.
All the angles are seen from a distance to look obtuse,
or rather are not seen at all, and their blow is lost,
and their stroke never makes its way to our sight,
because while the idols are borne on through much air, the air by repeated collisions blunts the stroke perforce.
When in this way, all the angles have together eluded the sense, the stone structures are rounded off as if by the lathe,
yet they do not look like the things which are close before us and really round, but somewhat resembling them as in shadowy outline.
Our shadow likewise seems to move in the sunshine and to follow our steps and mimic our action.
If you think, forsooth, that air deprived of life can step, imitating the motions and the actions of men,
for that which we are wont to term shadow can be nothing but air devoid of light.
Sure enough, because the earth in certain spots successively is deprived of light,
wherever we intercept it in moving about, while that part of it which we have quitted is filled with light,
therefore that which was the shadow of our body seems to have always followed us unchanged in a direct line with us.
For new rays of light ever pour in, and the old are lost, just as if wool were drawn into the fire.
Therefore, the earth is readily stripped of light, and again filled, and cleanses it,
itself from black shadows. And yet in all this we do not admit that the eyes are cheated one whit,
for it is their province to observe in what spot soever light and shade are, but whether the lights are still
the same or not, and whether it is the same shadow which was in this spot that is now passing to that,
or whether what we said a little before is not rather the fact, this, the reason of the mind and only
it has to determine, nor can the eyes know the nature of things. Do not then fasten upon the eyes
this frailty of the mind. The ship in which we are sailing moves on while seeming to stand still.
That one which remains at its moorings is believed to be passing by. The hills and fields
seem to be dropping astern, past which we are driving our ship and flying under sail.
The stars all seem to be at rest, fast fixed to the ethereal vaults, and yet are all in constant
motion, since they rise and then go back to their far-off places of setting, after they have
traversed the length of heaven with their bright bodies. In like manner, sun and moon seem to
stay in one place, bodies which simple fact proves are carried on, and though between mountains rising up far off
from amid the waters, there opens out four fleets of free passage of wide extent, yet a single
island seems to be formed out of them united into one. When children have stopped turning round
themselves, the halls appear to them to whirl about, and the pillars to course round to such a degree
that they can scarcely believe that the whole roof is not threatening to tumble down upon them.
Again, when nature begins to raise on high the sun's beam ready with bickering fires,
and to lift it up above the mountains, those hills above which the sun then seems to you to be,
as blazing close at hand he dyes them with his own fire,
are distant from us scarce two thousand aeroflights,
yea, often scarce five hundred casts of a javelin,
and yet between them and the sun lie immense levels of sea spread out below the huge borders of ether
and many thousands of lands are between, held by diverse peoples and races of wild beasts.
Then a puddle of water, not more than a finger-breadth deep, which stands between the stones on the streets,
offers a prospect beneath the earth of a reach as vast as that with which the high,
high yawning maw of heaven opens out above the earth. So that you seem to discern clouds and see the
bodies of birds far withdrawn into that wondrous sky beneath the earth. Again, when our stout horse
has stuck in the middle of a river and we are looking down on the swift waters of the stream,
some force seems to carry athwart the current, the body of the horse which is standing still,
and to force it rapidly up the stream. And to whatever point we cast our eyes about, all things seem to be
carried on and to be flowing in the same way as we are. Again, although a portico runs in parallel lines from one end to the
other, and stands supported by equal columns along its whole length, yet when from the top of it it is seen
in its entire length, it gradually forms the contracted top of a narrowing cone, until United
roof with floor, and all the right side with the left, it has brought them together into the
vanishing point of a cone. Two sailors on the sea, the sun appears to rise out of the waters,
and in the waters to set and bury his light, just because they behold nothing but water and
sky, that you may not lightly suppose the credit of the senses to be shaken on all hands.
then to people unacquainted with the sea, ships and harbors seem to be all askew, and with poop fittings
broken to be pressing up against the water. For whatever part of the oars is raised above the salt water
is straight, and the rudders in their upper half are straight, the parts which are sunk below the water level
appear to be broken and bent round, and to slope up and turn back toward the surface, and to be so much
twisted back as well nigh to float on the top of the water. And when the winds carry the thinly
scattered clouds across heaven in the nighttime, then do the glittering signs appear to glide
thwart the rack, and to be traveling on high in a direction quite different to their real course.
Then if our hand chanced to be placed beneath one eye and press it below, through a certain
sensation, all things which we look at appear, then to become double as we look,
the light of lamps, brilliant with flames to be double, double to the furniture through the whole
house, double men's faces and men's bodies. Again, when sleep has chained down our limbs in sweet
slumber, and the whole body is sunk in profound repose, yet then we seem to ourselves to be
awake and to be moving our limbs, and mid the thick darkness of night, we think we see the sun
and the daylight, and though in a confined room, we seem to be passing to new climates, seas,
rivers, and mountains, and to be crossing planes on foot, and to hear noises, though the austere
silence of night prevails all round, and to be uttering speech, though quite silent.
Many are the other marvels of this sort we see, which all seek to shake, as it were,
the credit of the senses. Quite in vain, since the greatest part of these cases cheats us on account of
the mental suppositions which we add of ourselves, taking those things as seen which have not been
seen by the senses. For nothing is harder than to separate manifest facts from doubtful,
which straightway the mind adds on of itself. End of Section 21. Section 22 of on the
nature of things by Titus Lucretius Karris. This Librovoc's recording is in the public domain,
read by Pamela Nagami. Book 4, Part 3. Again, if a man believed that nothing is known,
he knows not whether this even can be known, since he admits he knows nothing. I will therefore
decline to argue the case against him, who places himself with head where his feet should be,
and yet granting that he knows this, I will still put this question, since he has never yet seen any truth in things,
once he knows what knowing and not knowing severally are, and what it is that has produced the knowledge of the true and the false,
and what has proved the doubtful to differ from the certain. You will find that from the senses first has proceeded the knowledge of the true,
and that the senses cannot be refuted.
For that which is of itself to be able to refute things false, by true things,
must from the nature of the case be proved to have the higher certainty.
Well then, what must fairly be accounted of higher certainty than sense?
Shall reason founded on false sense be able to contradict them,
wholly founded as it is on the senses?
and if they are not true, then all reason as well as rendered false.
Or shall the ears be able to take the eyes to task, or the touch, the ears?
Again shall the taste call in question this touch, or the nostrils refute, or the eyes
controverted? Not so, I guess, for each apart has its own distinct office, each its own power,
and therefore we must perceive what is soft and cold or hot by one distinct faculty,
by another perceive the different colors of things, and thus see all objects which are
conjoined with color. Taste too has its faculty apart, smells spring from one source,
sounds from another. It must follow, therefore, that any one sense cannot confute any other.
No, nor can any sense take itself to task, since equal credit must be assigned to it at all times.
What, therefore, has it any time appeared true to each sense is true, and if reason shall be
unable to explain away the cause, why things which close at hand were square and at a distance
looked round, it yet is better, if you are at a loss for the reason, to state erroneously the causes
of each shape, than to let slip from your grasp on any side, things manifest, and ruin the groundwork of
belief, and wrench up all the foundations on which rest life and existence. For not only would all
reason give way, life itself would at once fall to the ground, unless you choose to trust the senses
and shun precipices, and all things else of this sort that are to be avoided, and to pursue the opposite
things. All that host of words, then, be sure, is quite unmeaning, which has been drawn up in
array against the senses. Once more, as in a building, if the rule first applied is rye and the
square is untrue, and squirts from its right lines, and if there is the slightest hitch in any
part of the level, all the construction must be faulty. All must be rye, crooked, sloping,
leaning forwards, leaning backwards, without symmetry, so that some parts seem ready to fall,
others do fall, ruined all by the first erroneous measurements. So too, all reason of things
must needs prove to you distorted and false which is founded on false senses. And now to explain
in what way the other senses do each perceive their several objects is the no wise arduous task which is still
left. In the first place, all sound and voice is heard when they have made their way through
the ears and have struck with their body the sense of hearing. For voice too and sound you must
admit to be bodily, since they are able to act upon the senses. Again, voice often abrades
the throat, and shouting and passing forth makes the windpipe more rough. When to wit the first
beginnings of voices have risen up in larger mass and commence to pass abroad through their straight
passage. You are to know the door of the mouth now crammed itself is abraded. There is no doubt,
then, that voices and words consist of bodily first beginnings, with the power to hurt. Nor can you
fail to know how much of body is taken away and how much is withdrawn from men's very sinews and strength
by a speech continued without an eruption
from the dawning brightness of morning
to the shadow of black night.
Above all, if it has been poured forth
with much loud shouting.
Voice therefore must be bodily,
since a man by much speaking
loses a portion from his body.
Next, roughness of voice
comes from roughness of first beginnings,
as smoothness is produced from smoothness.
Nor are the first beginnings of like shape which pierce the ears in these two cases.
When the trumpet brazed dully and deep low tones, the barbarian country roused,
echoing back the hoarse hollow sound, and when swans from the headstrong torrents of Helicon
raised their clear-toned dirge with plaintive voice.
When, therefore, we force these voices forth from the depths of our body
and discharge them straight out of the mouth,
the pliant tongue,
deft fashioner of words,
gives them articulate utterance,
and the structure of the lips
does its part in shaping them.
Therefore, when the distance is not long
between point from which each several voice has started,
and that at which it arrives,
the very words too must be plainly heard
and distinguished syllable by syllable.
For each voice retains its structure
and retains its shape.
But if the space between be more than is suitable,
the words must be huddled together in passing through much air,
and the voice be disorganized in its flight through the same.
Therefore it is that you can hear a sound,
yet cannot distinguish what the meaning of the words is,
so huddled and hampered is the voice when it comes.
Again, a single word often stirs the ears of a whole assembly
of people when uttered by the crier's mouth.
One voice, therefore, in a moment, starts asunder into many voices,
since it distributes itself separately into all the ears,
stamping upon them the form and distinct sound of the word.
But such of the voices as do not fall directly on the ears
are carried past and lost, fruitlessly dispersed in air.
Some striking upon solid spots are thrown back and give back a sound,
and sometimes mock by an echo of the word.
When you fully perceive all this,
you may explain to yourself and others how it is,
that in lonely spots,
rocks give back in regular succession forms of words
like to those sent forth,
as we seek our comrades straying about
among the darkened hills,
and with loud voice call upon them scattered abroad.
I have seen places give back as many as six or seven voices,
when you send forth one. In such wise did the very hills dash back on hills, and repeat the words thus
trained to come back. These spots the people round fancy that the goat-footed satyrs and nymphs inhabit,
and tell that they are the fauns, by whose night pervading noise and sportive play, as they declare
the still silence is broken, and sounds produced of stringed instruments and sweet plaintive melodies,
such as the pipe pours forth when beaten by the fingers of the players.
The country people, hearing far and wide,
What time, Pan nodding, the piney covering of his head,
Half a beast's, oft runs over the gaping reeds with curved lip,
making the pipe without ceasing to pour forth its woodland song.
Others, such like prodigies and marvels they tell of,
that they may not happily be thought to inhabit lonely,
places, abandoned even by the gods. On this account, they vaunt such wonders in their stories,
or are led on by some other reason, inasmuch as the whole race of men is all too greedy after
listening ears. End of Section 22. Section 23 of On the Nature of Things by Titus Lucretius
Carus. This Librevox recording is in the public domain, read by
Pamelaigami. Book 4, Part 4. To proceed, you need not wonder how it is that through places,
through which the eyes cannot see plain things, voices come and strike the ears. We often see a
conversation going on even through closed doors, sure enough, because the voice can pass
uninjured through the winding openings of things, while idols refuse to pass. They are torn to
shreds, if the openings through which they glide are not straight, like those of glass,
through which every image passes. Again, a voice distributes itself in all directions,
since voices are begotten one out of another, when a single voice has once gone forth and
sprung into many, as a spark of fire is often wont to distribute itself into its constituent fires.
Therefore, places are filled with voices, which, though far,
are withdrawn out of view, yet are all in commotion and stirred by sound. But idols all proceed
in straight courses as soon as they have been discharged, and therefore you can never see beyond a wall,
but you may hear voices outside it. And yet this very voice, even in passing through the walls of
houses, is blunted and enters the ears in a huddled state, and we seem to hear the sound rather
than the actual words. The tongue and palate whereby we perceive flavor have not in them anything
that calls for longer explanation or offers more difficulty. In the first place, we perceive
flavor in the mouth when we press it out in chewing our food in the same way as when one happily
begins to squeeze with his hand and dry a sponge full of water. Next, the whole of what we
press out distributes itself through the cavities of the palate and the intricate openings of the
porous tongue. Therefore, when the bodies of oozing flavor are smooth, they pleasantly touch and
pleasantly feel all the parts about the moist exuding quarters of the palate. But on the other hand,
when they rise in a mass, they puncture and tear the sense according to the degree in which they
are pervaded by roughness. Next, the pleasure from the flavor reaches.
as far as the palate, when, however, it has passed down through the throat, there is no pleasure
while it is all distributing itself into the frame. And it makes no matter what the food is
with which the body is nurtured, provided you can digest what you take and transmit it into the
frame and keep the stomach in an equitable condition of moistness. I will now explain how it is
that different food is pleasant and nutritious for different creatures. Also why that which to some is
nauseous and bitter may yet to others seem passing sweet, and why in these matters the difference
and discrepancy is so great that what to one man is food, to another is rank poison, and there is
actually a serpent which on being touched by a man's spittle wastes away and destroys itself by gnawing
its own body. Again, hell-bore for us is rank poison but helps to fatten goats and quails. That you may
know how this comes to pass, first of all you must remember what we have said before,
that the seeds which are contained in things are mixed up in manifold ways. Again, all living
creatures soever which take food, even as they are unlike on the outside and differing in each other
after its kind, an exterior contour of limbs bounds them, so likewise are they formed of seeds of varying
shape. Again, since the seeds differ, there must be a discrepancy in the spaces between and the passages
which we name openings in all the limbs and mouth and palate as well. Some openings, therefore,
must be smaller, some larger. Some things must have them three-cornered, other square.
many must be round, some many angled after many fashions.
For, as the relation between the shapes of seeds and their motions require, the openings also must
differ according to their shapes, and the passages must vary, as varies the texture
formed by the seeds which bound them. For this reason, when that which is sweet to some
becomes bitter to others, for that creature to whom it is sweet, the smoothest body
must enter the cavities of the palate with power to feel them all over. But on the other hand,
in the case of those to whom the same thing is bitter within, rough and barbed seeds sure enough
passed down the throat. It is easy now from these principles to understand all particular cases.
Thus, when a fever has attacked anyone from too great a flow of bile, or a violent disease
has been excited in any other way. Thereupon the whole body is disordered, and all the arrangements
of particles then and there changed. The consequence of which is that the bodies which before were suited
to excite sensations suit no more, and those fitted better which are able to make their way in
and forget a bitter sense. Both kinds, for instance, are mixed up in the flavor of honey,
a point we have often proved before.
Now mark me and I will discuss the way in which the contact of smell affects the nostrils.
And first, there must be many things from which a varied flow of smell streams and rolls on.
And we must suppose that they thus stream and discharge and disperse themselves among all things alike,
but one smell fits itself better to one creature, another to another on account of their unlike shapes,
and therefore bees are drawn on by the smell of honey through the air to a very great distance,
and so are vultures by carcasses.
Also the onward-reaching power of scent in dogs leads them whithersoever the cloven hoof of wild beasts
has carried them in their course, and the smell of man is felt far away by the savior of the
Roman citadel, the bright white goose.
Thus different sense assigned to different creatures led each to each to the same.
its appropriate food and constrain them to recoil from nauseous poison, and in this way the races
of beasts are preserved. Of all these different smells then, which strike the nostrils,
one may reach to a much greater distance than another, though none of them is carried so far as
sound, as voice, to say nothing of things which strike the eyesight and provoke vision.
for in its mazy course each comes slowly on and is sooner lost, being gradually dispersed into the readily
receiving expansive air. First because, coming out of its depths, it with difficulty discharges itself
from the thing. For the fact that all things are found to have a stronger smell when crushed,
when pounded, when broken up by fire, shows that odors stream and withdraw from the inner parts of things,
Next you may see that smell is formed of larger first beginnings than voice, since it does not
pass through stone walls, through which voice and sound are born without fail.
For this reason also you will find that it is not so easy to trace out in what quarter
a thing which smells is situated, for the blow cools down as it loiteres through the air,
and the courier particles of things are no longer hot when they finish their race to sense,
for which reason dogs are often at fault and lose the scent.
But what I have said is not found in smells and in the class of flavors only,
but also the forms and colors of things are not all so well suited to the senses of all,
but that some will be more distressing to the sight than others.
Moreover, ravenous lions cannot face and bear to gaze upon a cock with flapping wings,
putting night to rout and won't to summon mornings with shrill voice.
In such wise they at once bethink themselves of flight,
because sure enough in the body of cocks are certain seeds,
and these, when they have been discharged into the eyes of lions,
bore into the pupils and cause such sharp pain
that courageous though they be,
they cannot continue to face them.
While at the same time, these things cannot hurt at all
our sight, either because they do not enter in, or because the moment they enter, a free passage
out of the eyes is granted them, so that they cannot, by staying behind, hurt the eyes in any part.
Now mark and hear what things move the mind, and learn in a few words whence the things which
come into it do come. I say, first of all, that idols of things wander about many in number,
in many ways in all directions round, extremely thin, and these when they meet, readily unite,
like a cobweb or piece of gold leaf. For these idols are far thinner in texture than those
which take possession of the eyes and provoke vision, since these enter in through the porous parts of
the body, and stir the fine texture of the mind within and provoke sensation. Therefore we see centaurs
and limbs of skillas and cerberus-like faces of dogs, and idols of those who are dead,
whose bones earth holds in its embrace, since idols of every kind are everywhere born about,
partly those which are spontaneously produced within the air, partly all those which withdrawn from
various things, and those which are formed by compounding the shapes of these.
For assuredly, no image of centaur is formed out of,
of a live one, since no such nature of living creature ever existed. But when images of a horse
and a man have by chance come together, they readily adhere at once, as we said before,
on account of their fine nature and thin texture. All other things of the kind are produced in
like fashion, and when these from extremes of lightness are borne on with velocity, as I showed before,
any one subtle composite image you like readily moves the mind by a single stroke,
for the mind is fine and is itself wondrously nimble.
That all this is done as I relate you may easily learn from what follows.
So far as the one is like the other, seeing with the mind and seeing with the eyes
must be produced in a like way.
Well then, since I have shown that I perceive, for instance, a light,
lion by means of idols which provoke the eyes, you may be sure that the mind is moved in a like way,
which by means of idols sees a lion or anything else just as well as the eyes, with this difference
that it perceives much thinner idols. And when sleep has prostrated the body, for no other reason
does the mind's intelligence wake, except because the very same idols provoke our minds which
provoke them when we are awake, and to such a degree that we seem without a doubt to perceive
him whom life has left, and death and earth gotten hold of. This, nature constrains to come to pass,
because all the senses of the body are then hampered and at rest throughout the limbs,
and cannot refute the unreal by real things. Moreover, memory is prostrate and relaxed in sleep,
and protests not that he has long been in the grasp of death and destruction, whom the mind believes
it sees alive. Furthermore, it is not strange that idols move and throw about their arms and other limbs
in regular measure, for sometimes in sleep, an image is seen to do this, when the first to wit has gone
and a second then been born in another posture, that former one seems to have altered its attitude.
This remember you must assume to take place with exceeding celerity.
So great is the velocity, so great the store of things,
so great in any one unit of time that sense can seize is the store of particles
out of which the supply may go on.
End of Section 23.
Section 24 of On the Nature of Things by Titus Lucretius Carus.
This Librovoc's recording is in the public.
domain read by Pamela Nagami. Book 4, Part 5. And here many questions present themselves,
and many points must be cleared up by us if we desire to give a plain exposition of things.
The first question is why, when the wish has occurred to anyone to think of a thing,
his mind on the instant thinks of that very thing. Do idols observe our will, and so soon
As soon as we will, does an image present itself to us, if sea, if earth, I, or heaven is what we
wish. Assemblies of men, a procession, feasts, battles, everything in short does nature at
command produce and provide, and though to increase the marvel the mind of others in the same
spot and room is thinking of things all quite different. What again are we to say? When we see in
sleep, idols advance and measured tread and move their pliant limbs. When in nimble-wise they put out
each pliant arm in turn, and represent to the eyes over and over again in action with foot that
moves in time. Idols to wit are imbued with art and move about well-trained to be able in the
nighttime to exhibit such plays. Or will this rather be the truth? Because in one unit of time when we can
perceive it by sense, and while one single word is uttered, many latent times are contained which
reason finds to exist, therefore in any time you please, all the several idols are at hand
ready prepared in each several place. And because they are so thin, the mind can see distinctly
only those which it strains itself to see, therefore all that there are besides are lost,
save only those for which it is made itself ready.
Moreover, it makes itself ready in hopes to see that which follows upon each thing.
Therefore, the result does follow.
Do you not see that the eyes also, when they essay to discern things which are thin and fine,
strain themselves, and make themselves ready, and without that we cannot see distinctly?
And yet you may observe even in things which are plain before us, that if you do not attend,
end, it is just as if the thing were all the time away and far distant. What wonder then, if the mind
loses all other things, save those with which it is itself earnestly occupied? Then, too, from small
indications, we draw the widest inferences, and by our own fault, entangle ourselves in the meshes of
self-delusion. Sometimes it happens, too, that an image of the same kind is not supplied, but what before was a woman,
turns out in our hands to have changed into a man, or a different face and age, succeed to the first.
But sleep and forgetfulness prevent us from feeling surprised at this.
And herein you should desire, with all your might, to shun the weakness with a lively apprehension
to avoid the mistake of supposing that the bright lights of the eyes were made in order that we might see,
and that the tapering ends of the shanks and hams are attached to the feet as,
a base in order to enable us to step out with long strides, or again that the forearms are slung to
the stout upper arms and ministering hands given to us on each side, that we might be able to
discharge the needful duties of life. Other explanations of like sort which men give, one and all
put effect for cause through wrong-headed reasoning, since nothing was born in the body that we
might use it, but that which is born begets for itself a use. Thus seeing did not exist before the
eyes were born, nor the employment of speech ere the tongue was made. But rather the birth of the tongue
was long anterior to language, and the ears were made long before sound was heard, and all the
limbs I trow existed before there was any employment for them. They could not therefore have grown for the
purpose of being used. But on the other hand, engaging in the strife of battle and mangling the body
and staining the limbs with gore were in vogue long before glittering darts ever flew,
and nature prompted to shun a wound, or ever the left arm by the help of art held up before the
person, the defense of a shield. Yes, and consigning the tired body to rest is much older than a soft
cushioned bed, and the slaking of thirst had birth before cups.
These things, therefore, which have been invented in accordance with the uses and wants of life,
may well be believed to have been discovered for the purpose of being used.
Far otherwise is it with all those things which first were born, then afterwards made
known the purposes to which they might be put, at the head of which class we see the senses
in the limbs.
wherefore again and again I repeat, it is quite impossible to believe that they could have been
made for the duties which they discharge. It ought likewise to cause no wonder that the nature of
the body of each living creature absolutely requires food. I have shown that bodies eb away and
withdraw from things, many in number in many ways, but most numerous must be those which withdraw from
living things. For because these are tried by active motion, and many particles are pressed out from
the depths of the frame and carried off by sweating, many breathed out through the mouth when they
pant from exhaustion, from such causes the body becomes rarefied, and the whole nature undermined,
and this state is attended by pain. Food, therefore, is taken in order to give support to the frame
and recruit the strength by its infusion,
and to close up the open mouth craving for meat
throughout limbs and veins.
The moisture, too, passes into all the parts
which call for moisture,
and many accumulated bodies of heat
which cause a burning in our stomach,
the approach of liquid scatters and quenches
as if they were fire,
so that dry heat can no longer parched the frame.
In this way, then,
you see gasping thirst is,
wrenched out of our body. In this way, the hungry craving is satisfied. Now, how it comes to
pass that we are able to step out when we please, and how it is given us to move about our limbs,
and what causes won't to push forward the great load of this our body, I will tell. Do you
take it in my words? I say that idols of walking first present themselves to our mind and strike
on the mind, as we said before. Then the will arises, for no one begins to do anything until his mind
has first determined what it wills. From the very fact that it determines such things, there is an
image of that thing. When, therefore, the mind besters itself in such a way as to will to walk and step
out, it strikes at the same moment the force of the soul, which is spread over the whole body throughout
the limbs and frame. And this is easily done, since the whole,
is held in close union with the mind. Next, the soul in its turn strikes the body,
and thus the whole mass by degrees is pushed on and set in motion. Then again the body becomes
also rarefied, and the air as you see its nature is, being always so nimble and moving,
comes and passes in great quantity through the opened pores and is thus distributed into the
most minute parts of the body. In this way,
then by these two causes acting in two ways, the body like a ship is carried on by sails and wind.
And herein it need not excite any surprise that such very minute bodies can steer so great a body
and turn about the whole of this hour load. For wind, though fine, with subtle body,
drives and pushes on a large ship of large moving mass, and one hand directs it however great the speed
at which it is going, and one rudder steers it to any point you like, and by means of blocks of
pulleys and treadwheels, a machine stirs many things of great weight, and raises them up with
slight effort. Now, by what means yon's sleep, lets a stream of repose over the limbs and dispels from
the breast the cares of the mind, I will tell you in sweetly worded rather than in many verses,
as the short song of the swan is better than the loud noise of cranes scattered abroad amid the ethereal clouds of the south.
Do you lend me a nice ear in a keen mind that you may not deny what I say to be possible,
and secede with breast disdainfully rejecting the words of truth, you yourself being in fault a while and unable to discern?
Sleep mainly takes place when the force of the soul has been scattered about through the frame,
and in part has been forced abroad and taken its departure,
and in part has been thrust back and has withdrawn into the depths of the body.
After that, the limbs are relaxed and group.
For there is no doubt that this sense exists in us by the agency of the soul,
and when sleep obstructs the action of this sense,
then we must assume that our soul has been disordered and forced abroad.
Not indeed all, for then the body would lie steeped,
in the everlasting chill of death. Where no part of the soul remained behind concealed in the limbs,
as fire remains concealed when buried under much ash, whence could sense be suddenly rekindled
through the limbs as flame can spring up from hidden fire. But by what means this change of condition
is accomplished and from what the soul can be disordered and the body grow faint, I will explain.
do you mind that I waste not my words on the wind?
In the first place, the body in its outer side, since it is next to and is touched by the air,
must be thumped and beaten by its repeated blows, and for this reason all things as a rule are
covered either by a hide or else by shells or by a callous skin or by bark.
When creatures breathe, this air at the same time buffets the inner side also, as it is inhaled and
exhaled. Therefore, since the body is beaten on both sides alike and blows arrive by means of
the small apertures at the primal parts and primal elements of our body, there gradually ensues a sort of
breaking up throughout our limbs, the arrangements of the first beginnings of body and mind getting
disordered. Then next a part of the soul is forced out, and a part withdraws into the inner recesses.
A part two scattered about through the frame cannot get you.
united together, and so act and be acted upon by motion. For nature intercepts all communication
and blocks up all the passages, and therefore sense retires deep into the frame as the motions are all
altered. And since there is nothing, as it were, to lend support to the frame, the body becomes weak,
and all the limbs are faint. The arms and eyelids droop and the hams, even in bed, often give way under you
and relax their powers. Then sleep follows on food because food produces just the same effects as air
while it is distributed into all the veins, and that sleep is much the heaviest which you take when
full or tired, because then the greatest number of bodies fall into disorder, bruised by much
exertion. On the same principle, the soul comes in part to be forced more deeply into the frame,
and there is also a more copious omission of it abroad, and at the same time it is more divided and
scattered in itself within you. And generally to whatever pursuit a man is closely tied down and
strongly attached, on whatever subject we have previously much dwelt, the mind having been put to
a more than usual strain in it. During sleep, we for the most part fancy that we are engaged in the
same. Lawyers think they plead causes and draw up covenants of sale. Generals that they fight and
engage in battle. Sailors that they wage and carry on war with the winds. We think we pursue our
task and investigate the nature of things constantly and consign it when discovered to writings
in our native tongue. So all other pursuits and arts are seen for the most part during sleep to
occupy and mock the minds of men. And whenever men have given during many days in succession,
undivided attention to games, we generally see that after they have ceased to perceive these with
their senses, there yet remain passages open in the mind through which the same idol of things may
enter. Thus, for many days, those same objects present themselves to the eyes, so that even when
awake, they see dancers as they think moving their pliant limbs, and receive into the ears the
clear music of the harp and speaking strings, and behold the same spectators, and at the same time
the varied decorations of the stage in all their brilliancy. So great is the influence of zeal
and inclination. So great is the influence of the things in which men have been habitually
engaged, and not men only, but all living creatures.
Thus you have seen stout horses, even when their bodies are lying down, yet in their sleep sweat
and pant without ceasing and strain their powers to the utmost, as if for the prize, or as if the
barriers were thrown open. And often during soft repose, the dogs of hunters do yet all at once
throw about their legs, and suddenly utter cries and repeatedly snuff the air with their nostrils,
as though they had found and were on the tracks of wild beasts.
and after they are awake, often chase the shadowy idols of stags, as though they saw them in full flight,
until they have shaken off their delusions and come to themselves again.
And the fawning brood of dogs brought up tame in the house, haste to shake their body and raise
it up from the ground, as if they beheld unknown faces and features.
And the fiercer the different breeds are, the greater rage they must display in sleep.
But the various kinds of birds flee, and suddenly, in the night time, trouble with their wings,
the groves of the gods, when in gentle sleep, hawks and pursuing birds have appeared to show fight
and offer battle. Again, the minds of men which pursue great aims under great emotions,
often during sleep, pursue and carry on the same in like manner. Kings take by storm, are taken,
join battle, raise a loud cry as if stabbed on the spot. Many struggle hard and utter groans in pain,
and as if gnawed by the bite of panther or cruel lion, fill out the place with loud cries.
Many during sleep speak of important affairs and have often and often disclosed their own guilt.
Many meet death, many as if tumbling down from high precipices to the ground with their whole body,
are scared with terror, and after sleep, as if out of their judgment, scarce come to themselves
again, quite disordered by their body's turmoil. Again, a thirsty man sits down beside a river
or a pleasant spring and gulps down well-nigh all the stream. Cleanly people, often when sound asleep,
believing that they are lifting their dress beside a urinal or the public vessels,
pour forth the filtered liquid of their whole body,
and the Babylonian coverlets of surpassing brillian brillian
are drenched. Then to those, into the boiling currents
of whose age seed is for the first time passing,
when the full ripeness of days has produced it in their limbs,
idols encounter from without from what body soever,
harbingers of a glorious face and a beautiful bloom,
which stir and excite the frame.
End of Section 24.
Section 25 of On the Nature of Things by Titus Lucretius Karras.
This Librovoc's recording is in the public domain read by Pamela Nagami.
Book 4, Part 6.
That seed we have spoken of before is stirred up in us as soon as ripe age fortifies the frame.
For, as different causes set in motion and excite different things,
so from man the sole influence of man draws forth human seed.
As soon then as it has been forced out from and quits its proper seats throughout the limbs and frame,
it withdraws itself from the whole body and meets together in appropriate places
and rouses forwith the appropriate parts of the body.
The places are excited and swell with seed,
and the inclination arises to emit the seed towards that to which the fell desire all tends,
and the body seeks that object from which the mind is wounded by love.
For all, as a rule, fall towards their wound,
and the blood spurts out in that direction
whence comes the stroke by which we are struck,
and if he is at close quarters, the red stream covers the foe.
Thus then, he who gets a hurt from the weapons of Venus,
whatever be the object that hits him,
inclines to the quarter whence he is wounded,
and urns to unite with it,
and join body with body, for a mute desire gives a presage of the pleasure.
This pleasure is for us Venus. From that desire is the Latin name of love. From that desire has
first trickled into the heart yon drop of Venus's honeyed joy, succeeded soon by chilly care,
for though that which you love is away, yet idols of it are at hand, and its sweet name is present to the ears.
But it is meat to fly idols and scare away all that feeds love and turn your mind on another object,
distract your passion elsewhere, and not keep it with your thoughts once set on one object by love of it,
and so lay up for yourself care and unfailing pain.
For the sore gathers strength and becomes inveterate by feeding,
and every day the madness grows in violence, and the misery becomes aggravated,
unless you erase the first wounds by new blows, and first heal them when yet fresh,
roaming abroad after Venus the pandemon, or transfer to something else the emotions of your mind.
Nor is he who shuns love without the fruits of Venus, but rather enjoys those blessings which are
without any pain. Doubtless the pleasure from such things is more unalloyed for the healthy-minded
than for the love-sick. For in the very moment of enjoyment of enjoying,
the burning desire of lovers, weavers, and wanders undecided, and they cannot tell what first to
enjoy with eyes and hands. What they have sought, they tightly squeeze and cause pain of body,
and often imprint their teeth on the lips, and clash mouth-to-mouth-in kissing, because the pleasure
is not pure, and there are hidden stings which stimulate to hurt, even that, whatever it is,
from which springs those germs of frenzy. But Venus, with light hands,
hand, breaks the force of these pains during love, and the fond pleasure mingled therein
reigns in the bites. For in this there is hope that from the same body whence springs their
burning desire, their flame may likewise be quenched, though nature protests that the very
opposite is the truth. And this is the one thing of all in which, when we have most of it,
then all the more the breast burns with fell desire. Meat and drink are taken into the body,
and as they fill up certain fixed parts, in this way the craving for drink and bread is easily satisfied.
But from the face and beautiful bloom of man, nothing is given into the body to enjoy save flimsy idols,
a sorry hope which is often snatched off by the wind.
As when in sleep a thirsty man seeks to drink and water is not given to quench the burning in his frame.
But he seeks the idols of water and toils in vain, and thus,
thirsts as he drinks in the midst of the torrent stream. Thus in love, Venus mocks lovers with idols.
Nor can bodies satisfy them by all their gazing upon them, nor can they with their hands
rub aught off the soft limbs, wandering undecided over the whole body. At last when they have united
and enjoyed the flower of age, when the body now has a presage of delights, and Venus is in the mood to
sow the fields of woman, they greedily clasp each other's body and suck each other's lips and breathe in,
pressing, meanwhile, teeth on each other's mouth, all in vain, since they can rub nothing off,
nor enter and pass each with his whole body into the other's body, for so sometimes they seem to will.
So greedily are they held in the chains of Venus, while their limbs melt overpowered by the might of the pleasure.
At length, when the gathered desire has gone forth, there ensues for a brief while a short pause in the burning passion,
and then returns the same frenzy, then comes back the old madness, when they are at a loss to know what they really desire to get,
and cannot find what device is to conquer that mischief, in such utter uncertainty they pine away by a hidden wound.
then too they waste their strength and ruin themselves by the labor, then too their life is
passed at the back of another. Meanwhile, their estate runs away and is turned into Babylonian coverlets,
duties are neglected, and their good name staggers and sickens. On her feet laugh elastic
and beautiful Sissonian shoes, yes, and large emeralds with green light are set in gold,
and the seed-colored dress is worn constantly, and much used.
drinks in the sweat. The noble earnings of their fathers are turned into hair bands, headdresses,
sometimes are changed into a sweeping robe, an Alladensian and Cian dresses. Feasts set out with
rich coverlets and viands, games, numerous cups, perfumes, crowns, and garlands are prepared,
all in vain, since out of the very wellspring of delights rises up something of bitter to pain
amid the very flowers, either when the conscience-stricken mind happily gnaws itself with remorse to think
that it is passing a life of sloth and ruining itself in brothels, or because she has launched
forth some word and left its meaning in doubt and it cleaves to the lovesick heart and burns like
living fire, or because it fancies, she casts her eyes too freely about or looks on another,
and it sees in her face traces of a smile. And these evils are found in the
love that is lasting and highly prosperous, but in crossed and hopeless love are ill such as you
may seize with closed eyes, past numbering, so that it is better to watch beforehand in the manner
I have prescribed, and to be on your guard not to be drawn in. For to avoid falling into the toils
of love is not so hard as after you are caught, to get out of the nets you are in, and to
break through the strong meshes of Venus. And yet even when you are entangled and held fast,
you may escape the mischief, unless you stand in your own way and begin by overlooking all the
defects of her mind or those of her body, whoever it is whom you court and woo.
For this men usually do, blinded by passion and attribute to the beloved those advantages which
are not really theirs. We therefore see women in ways manifold, deformed and ugly to be objects of
endearment and held in the highest admiration. And one lover jeers at others and advises them to
propitiate Venus, since they are troubled by a disgraceful passion, and often poor wretch,
gives no thought to his own ills greatest of all. The black is a broon, the filthy and rank,
has not the love of order. The cat-eyed is a miniature palace, the stringy and wizened a gazelle.
The dumpy and dwarfish is one of the graces, from top to toe, all grace.
The big and overgrown is awe-inspiring and full of dignity.
She is tongue-tied, cannot speak, then she has a lisp.
The dumb is bashful.
Then the fire spit, the teasing, the gossiping, turns to a shining lamp.
One becomes a slim darling then when she cannot live or want of flesh,
and she is only spare who is half dead with cough.
Then the fat and big-breasted is a series self, big-breasted from Iacus.
The pug nose is a she-silinus and a satiris, the thick-lipped, a very kiss.
It were tedious to attempt to report other things of the kind.
Let her, however, be of ever so great dignity of appearance,
such that the power of Venus goes forth from all her limbs,
Yet there are others, too. Yet have we lived without her before. Yet does she do, and we know that
she does in all things the same as the ugly woman, and fumigates herself poor wretch with nauseous
perfumes, her very maids running from her and giggling behind her back. But the lover, when shut out,
often in tears, covers the threshold with flowers and wreaths, and anoints the haughty doorposts
with oil of marjoram and imprints kisses poor wretch on the door.
when, however, he has been admitted, if on his approach but one single breath should come in his way,
he would seek specious reasons for departing, and the long, conned, deep-drawn complaint would fall to the
ground. And then he would blame his folly on seeing that she has attributed to her more than
it is right to concede to a mortal. Nor is this unknown to our venuses, wherefore all the more
they themselves hide with the utmost pains, all that goes on behind the scenes of life from those
whom they wish to retain in the chains of love. But in vain, since you may yet draw forth from her
mind into the light, all these things, and search into all her smiles. And if she is of a fair
mind and not troublesome, overlook them in your turn and make allowances for human failings. Nor does the
woman sigh always with feigned passion when she locks in her embrace and joins with her body the man's
body and holds it sucking his lips into her lips and drinking in his kisses. Often she does it from the
heart, and seeking mutual joys, courts him to run the complete race of love. And in no other way
could birds, cattle, wild beasts, sheep and mares submit to bear the males, except because
the very exuberance of nature in the females is in heat and burns, and joyously draws in the
Venus of the covering males. See you not, too, how those whom mutual pleasure has chained
are often tortured in their common chains? How often in the highways do dogs, desiring to
separate, eagerly pull different ways with all their might, while all the time they are held
fast in the strong fetters of Venus? This they would never do unless they experienced mutual
joy's strong enough to force them into the snare and hold them in its meshes.
Wherefore again and again, I repeat, there is a common pleasure.
And when happily in mixing her seed with the man's, the woman by sudden force has overpowered
and seized for herself his force. Then children are formed from the mother's seed like to the
mothers, as from the father's seed like to the fathers. But those whom you see with a share of both
forms, blending equally the features of the parents, grow from the union of the father's body and
the mother's blood, when mutual ardor of desire working in concert has brought and clashed together
the seeds roused throughout the frame by the goads of Venus, and neither of the two has gotten
the mastery, nor has been mastered. Sometimes, too, the children may spring up like their
grandfathers, and often resemble the forms of their grandfather's fathers, because the parents'
often keep concealed in their bodies, many first beginnings, mixed in many ways,
which first proceeding from the original stock, one father hands down to the next father,
and then from these Venus produces forms after a manifold chance, and repeats not only the
features but the voices and hair of their forefathers. And the female sex equally springs
from the father's seed and males go forth equally formed from the mother's body,
since these distinctions no more proceed from the fixed seed of one or other parent than our faces and bodies and limbs.
The birth is always formed out of the two seeds, and whichever parent, that which is produced more resembles,
of that parent it has more than an equal share, as you may equally observe, whether it is a male child or a female birth.
nor do the divine powers debar anybody from the power of begetting,
forbidding him ever to receive the name of father from sweet children,
and forcing him to pass his life in a barren wedlock.
As men commonly fancy when in sorrow they drench the altars with much blood
and pile the raised altars with offerings to make their wives pregnant with abundant seed.
In vain they weary the divinity of the gods and the sacred lots.
They are barren sometimes, from two great thickness of the seed, sometimes from its undue fluidity and thinness.
Because the thin is unable to get a firm hold on the right spots, it at once passes away and is repelled and withdrawn abortively.
Since by others again a too thick seed is discharged in a state more solid than is suitable,
or either does not fly forth with so prolonged as stroke, or cannot equally pass into the proper spots,
or when it has passed in, mixes with difficulty with the woman's seed.
For well-assorted matches are found to be of great importance, and some males impregnate some
females more readily than others, and other males conceive and become pregnant more readily with other males,
and many women have hitherto been barren during several marriages, and have yet in the end found
mates from whom they could conceive children and be enriched with sweet offspring.
And often even for those to whom hitherto, wives, however fruitful, had been unable in their house to
bear, has been formed a compatible nature enabling them to fortify their age with sons.
Of such great importance is it, in order that seeds may agree and blend with seeds in a way to
to promote birth, whether the thick comes into contact with the fluid and the fluid with the thick.
And on this point, it matters much on what diet life is supported. For by some foods, seed is thickened
in the limbs, and by others again is thinned and wasted. And in what modes the intercourse goes on is
likewise a very great moment. For women are commonly thought to conceive more readily after the manner of
wild beasts and quadrupeds, because the seeds in this way can find the proper spots and consequence
of the position of the body. Nor have wives the least use for effeminate motions. A woman hinders and
stands in the way of her own conceiving when thus she acts, for she drives the furrow out of the
direct course and path of the share, and turns away from the proper spots the stroke of the seed.
and thus, for their own ends, harlots are wont to move in order not to conceive and lie in childbed frequently,
and at the same time to render Venus more attractive to men.
This our wives have surely no need of.
Sometimes, too, by no divine grace and arrows of Venus,
a sorry woman of inferior beauty comes to be loved,
for the wife, sometimes by her own acts and accommodating manners,
and by elegant neatness of person readily habituates you to pass your life with her.
Moreover, custom renders love attractive, for that which is struck by oft-repeated blows,
however lightly, yet after long course of time is overpowered and gives way.
See you not, too, that drops of water, falling on stones after long course of time,
scoop a hole through these stones?
End of Section 25.
Section 26 of On the Nature of Things by Titus Lucretius Karris.
This Librovoc's recording is in the public domain read by Pamela Nagami.
Book 5, Part 1
Who is able with powerful genius to frame a poem worthy of the grandeur of the things and these discoveries?
Or who is so great a master of words as to be able to devise praises equal to the deserts of him
who left to us such prizes won and earned by his own genius.
None methinks who is formed of mortal body.
For if we must speak as the acknowledged grandeur of the things itself demands,
a god he was, a god most noble Memius,
who first found out that plan of life which is now termed wisdom,
and who by trained skill rescued life from such great billows and such such
thick darkness and moored it to so perfect a calm and in so brilliant a light.
Compare the godlike discoveries of others in old times.
Series is famed to have pointed out to mortals' corn, and liber the vine-born juice of the grape,
though life might well have subsisted without these things, as we are told some nations
even now live without them. But a happy life was not possible,
without a clean breast. Wherefore, with more reason, this man is deemed by us a God,
from whom come those sweet solaces of existence, which even now are distributed over great nations
and gently soothe men's minds. Then, if you shall suppose that the deeds of Hercules surpass his,
you will be carried still farther away from true reason. For what would yon great gaping maw of
Nemean lion, now harm us, and the bristled Arcadian boar. Aye, or what could the bull of Crete do
and the hydra plague of Lerna fenced round with its envenomed snakes? Or how could the triple-breasted
might of three-fold geryon? How could the birds with brazen arrowy feathers that dwelt in the
Stimphalian swamps do us mighty injury? And the horses of Thracian Diomedibe breathing fire from their
nostrils along the Pistonian borders and Ismara, and the serpent which guards the bright
golden apples of the Hesperides, fierce, dangerous of aspect, girding the tree's stem with its
enormous body. What harm prey could he do us beside the Atlantic shore and its sounding main,
which none of us goes near and no barbarian ventures to approach? And all other monsters of the kind
which have been destroyed if they had not been vanquished.
What harm could they do, I ask, though now alive?
None methinks.
The earth even now so abounds to repletion in wild beasts
and is filled with troublous terror throughout woods
and great mountains and deep forests,
places which we have it for the most part in our own power to shun.
But unless the breast is cleared,
what battles and dangers must then find their way into us
in our own despite. What poignant cares inspired by lust, then rend the distressful man,
and then also what mighty fears and pride, filthy lust, and wantonness. What disasters they occasion,
and luxury, and all sorts of sloth? He therefore, who shall have subdued all these,
and banished them from the mind by words, not arms, shall he not have a just title?
to be ranked among the gods, and all the more so that he was wont to deliver many precepts
in beautiful and godlike phrases about the immortal gods themselves, and to open up by his teachings
all the nature of things. While walking in his footsteps, I follow out his reasonings and teach by my
verses, by what law all things are made, what necessity there is then for them to continue in that law,
and how impotent they are to annul the binding statutes of time.
Foremost in which class of things, the nature of the mind has been proved
to be formed of a body that had birth and to be unable to endure unscathed through great time,
mere idols being wont to mock the mind in sleep,
when we seem to see him whom life has abandoned.
To continue the order of my design has now brought me to this point,
where I must proceed to show that the world is formed of a mortal body and at the same time had birth
to show in what way that union of matter founded earth, heaven, sea, stars, sun, and the ball of the moon.
Also what living creatures sprang out of the earth, as well as those which never at any time were born.
In what way too mankind began to use with one another varied speech by the names conferred on things,
and also in what ways yon fear of the gods gained an entry into men's breasts, and now throughout the world
maintains as holy fains, lakes, groves, altars, and idols of the gods.
Furthermore, I shall make clear by what force piloting nature guides the courses of the sun and the
wanderings of the moon, lest happily we imagine that these of their own free will between heaven and earth
traverse their everlasting orbits, graciously furthering the increase of crops and living creatures,
or we think they roll on by any forethought of the gods. For they you have been rightly taught
that the gods lead a life without care, if nevertheless they wonder by what plan all things can be
carried on, above all in regard to those things which are seen overhead in the ethereal borders,
are born back again into their old religious scruples, and take unto themselves hard taskmasters,
whom they poor wretches, believe to be almighty, not knowing what can, what cannot be,
in short, by what system each thing has its powers defined, its deep-set boundary mark.
Well, then, not to detain you any longer by mere promises, look before all on seas and lands in heaven,
their threefold nature, their three bodies, Memeus, three forms, so unlike, three such wondrous
textures a single day shall give over to destruction, and the mass and fabric of the world upheld for many
years will tumble to ruin. Nor can I fail to perceive with what a novel and strange effect it
falls upon the mind, this destruction of heaven and earth that is to be, and how hard it is for me to
produce a full conviction of it by words, as is the case when you bring to the ears a thing
hitherto unexampled, and yet you cannot submit it to the eyesight, nor put it into the hands,
through which the straightest highway of belief leads into the human breast and quarters of the mind.
But yet I will speak out. It well may be that the reality itself will bring credit to my words,
and that you will see earthquakes arise, and all things grievously.
shattered to pieces in a short time. But this may pilot fortune guide far away from us,
and may reason rather than the reality convince, that all things may be overpowered and tumble in with a
frightful crash. But before I shall begin on this question to pour forth decrees of fate with more
sanctity and much more certainty than the pithia, who speaks out from the tripod and laurel of Phoebus,
I will clearly set forth to you many comforting topics in learned language,
lest held in the yoke of religion,
you happily suppose that earth and sun and heaven.
See, stars and moon must last forever with divine body,
and therefore think it right that they, after the fashion of the giants,
should all suffer punishment for their monstrous guilt,
who, by their reasoning, displaced the walls of the world,
and seek to quench the glorious son of heaven,
branding ye mortal things in mortal speech.
Though in truth,
these things are so far from possessing divinity
and are so unworthy of being reckoned in the number of gods,
that they may be thought to afford a notable instance
of what is quite without vital motion and sense.
For it is quite impossible to suppose
that the nature and judgment of the mind can exist
with any body whatever. Even as a tree cannot exist in the ether, nor clouds in the salt sea,
nor can fishes live in the fields, nor blood exist in woods, nor sap in stones. Where each thing can
grow and abide is fixed and ordained. Thus, the nature of the mind cannot come into being alone
without the body, nor exist far away from the sinews in blood. But, but
But if, for this should be much more likely to happen than that, the force itself of the mind
might be in the head or shoulders or heels or might be born in any other part of the body,
it would rather all be wont to abide in one and the same man or vessel.
But since in our body even it is fixed and seen to be ordained where the soul and the mind
can severally be and grow, it must still more strenuously be denied, that it can abide
out of the body in the living form altogether in crumbling clods of earth, or in the fire of the sun,
or in water, or in the high borders of ether. These things, therefore, are not possessed of
divine sense, since they cannot be quickened with the vital feeling. This too you may not
possibly believe, that the holy seats of the gods exist in many parts of the world. The fine nature
of the gods far withdrawn from our senses is hardly seen by the thoughts of the mind, and since it
has ever alluded the touch and stroke of the hands, it must touch nothing which is tangible for us,
for that cannot touch, which does not admit of being touched in turn, and therefore their seats
as well must be unlike our seats, fine, even as their bodies are fine. All which I will prove to you
later in copious argument. To say again that for the sake of men they have willed to set in order the
glorious nature of the world, and therefore it is meet to praise the work of the gods, calling as it does
for all praise, and to believe that it will be eternal and immortal, that it is an unholy thing
ever to shake by any force from its fixed seats, that which by the forethought of the gods in ancient
days has been established on everlasting foundations for mankind, or to assail it by speech and utterly overturn it
from top to bottom, and to invent and add other figments of the kind, Memmius, is all sheer folly.
For what advantage can our gratitude bestow on immortal and blessed beings that for our sakes
they should take in hand to administer ought?
And what novel incident should have induced them hitherto at rest so long after to desire to change their former life?
For it seems natural he should rejoice in a new state of things whom old things annoy.
But for him whom no ill has befallen in times gone by, when he passed a pleasant existence,
what could have kindled in such a one a love of change?
Did life lie grovelling in darkness and sorrow until the first dawn of the birth time of things?
Or what evil had it been for us never to have been born?
Whosoever has been born must want to continue in life so long as fond pleasure shall keep him,
but for him who has never tasted the love, never been on the lists of life,
what harm not to have been born?
once again was first implanted in the gods a pattern for begetting things in general as well as the
preconception of what men are so that they knew and saw in mind what they wanted to make
and in what way was the power of first beginnings ever ascertained and what they could effect
by a change in their mutual arrangements unless nature herself gave the model for making things
for in such wise the first beginnings of things many in number in many ways impelled by blows for infinite ages back and kept in motion by their own weights have been wont to be carried along and to unite in all manner of ways and thoroughly test every kind of production possible by their mutual combinations that it is not strange if they have also fallen into arrangements and have come into courses like to those
out of which this sum of things is now carried on by constant renewing.
But if I did not know what first beginnings of things are,
yet this judging by the very arrangements of heaven,
I would venture to affirm,
and led by many other facts to maintain,
that the nature of things has by no means been made for us by divine power.
So great are the defects with which it is encumbered.
In the first place, of all the space which the vast reach of heaven covers, a portion, greedy
mountains and forests of wild beasts have occupied, rocks and wasteful pools taken up,
and the sea which holds wide apart the coasts of different lands.
Next of nearly two-thirds burning heat and the constant fall of frost rob mortals.
What is left for tillage?
even that nature by its power would overrun with thorns unless the force of man made head against it accustomed for the sake of a livelihood to groan beneath the strong hoe and to cut through the earth by pressing down the plow unless by turning up the fruitful clods with the share and laboring the soil of the earth we stimulate things to rise they could not spontaneously come up into the clear air and even then sometimes
times when things earned with great toil, now put forth their leaves over the lands and are all in blossom.
Either the ethereal sun burns them up with excessive heats, or sudden rains and cold frosts cut them off,
and the blasts of the winds waste them by a furious hurricane.
Again, why does nature give food an increase to the frightful race of wild beasts,
dangerous to mankind both by sea and land. Why do the seasons of the year bring diseases in their
train? Why stalks a broad untimely death? Then, too, the baby, like to a sailor, cast away by the cruel
waves, lies naked on the ground, speechless, wanting every furtherance of life, soon as nature
by the throes of birth has shed him forth from his mother's womb into the borders of light.
He fills the room with a rueful wailing, as well he may, whose destiny it is, to go through
in life so many ills. But the different flocks, herds, and wild beasts grow up. They want no
rattles. To none of them need to be addressed the fond, broken accents of the fostering nurse.
They ask not different dresses according to the season. No, nor do they want arms or lofty walls whereby to protect their own.
The earth itself and nature manifold in her works, producing in plenty, all things for all.
End of Section 26.
Section 27 of On the Nature of Things by Titus Lucretius Carus.
This Librovox recording is in the public don't.
Mawain, read by Pamela Nagami. Book 5, Part 2. First of all, since the body of the earth and water and the
light breath of air and burning heats, out of which this sum of things is seen to be formed,
do all consist of a body that had a birth and is mortal. The whole nature of the world must be reckoned of a
like body. For those things whose parts and members we see to be of a body that had a birth and a
forms that are mortal, we perceive to be likewise without exception mortal, and at the same time
to have had a birth. Since, therefore, I see that the chiefest members and parts of the world are
destroyed and begotten anew, I may be sure that for heaven and earth as well, there has been a time
of beginning, and there will be a time of destruction. And herein, that you may not think I have
unfairly seized on this point for myself, because I have assumed that earth and fire are mortal,
and have not doubted that water and air perish, and have said that these are likewise begotten and
grow afresh. Mark the proofs. First of all, some portion of the earth, burnt up by constant
suns, trampled by a multitude of feet, sends forth a cloud and flying at ease of dust which the strong
winds disperse over the whole air. Part two of the soil is put under water by rains, and rivers
graze against and eat into the banks. Again, whatever increases, something else is in its turn replenished,
and since beyond a doubt, Earth, the universal mother, is found at the same time to be the general
tomb of things, therefore you see she is lessened and increases and grows again. Furthermore,
the sea, rivers, fountains, always stream over with new moisture, and that water's well up without
ceasing, it needs no words to prove. The great flow of waters from all sides clearly shows it.
But then, the water on the surface is always taken off, and thus it is that on the whole there is no
overflow, partly because the seas are lessened by the strong winds sweeping over them, and by the
ethereal sun decomposing them with its rays, partly because the water is diffused below the surface
over all lands, for the salt is strained off, and the matter of liquid streams back again to the
source, and all meets together at the river heads, and then flows over the lands in a fresh
current, where a channel, once scooped out, has carried down the waters with liquid foot.
And next I will speak of the air which is changed over its whole body every hour in countless ways.
For whatever ebbs from things is all borne always into the great sea of air,
and unless it in return were to give back bodies to things and to recruit them as they ebb,
all things there now would have been dissolved and changed into air.
It therefore ceases not to be begotten from things and to go back into things,
since it is a fact that all things constantly ebb. Likewise, the abundant source of clear light,
the ethereal sun, constantly floods Earth with fresh brightness and supplies the place of light
on the instant by new light, for every previous emission of brightness is quite lost to it,
wherever it falls. This you may know from the following examples. As soon as ever clouds begin to
pass below the sun and to break off, so to say, the rays of light, forthwith their lower part,
is wholly lost, and the earth is overshadowed wherever the clouds pass over, so that you may know
that things constantly require new irradiation, and that all the preceding emissions of light are lost,
and in no other way can things be seen in the sun unless the fountainhead of light itself send a supply.
Moreover, you see, nightly lights which belong to earth, such as hanging lamps and torches, bright with darting flames, hasten in like fashion amid great darkness with ministering heat to supply new light, are eager to bicker with fires, I eager.
nor is the light ever broken off, nor does it quit the spots illuminated. With such suddenness
is its destruction concealed by the swift birth of flame from all the fires at once. In the same way,
then, we must believe that sun, moon, and stars emit light from fresh and ever-fresh supplies rising up,
and always lose every previous discharge of flames that you may not happily believe that these
flourish indestructible.
Again, see you not that even stones are conquered by time, that high towers fall and rocks molder away,
that shrines and idols of gods are worn out with decay, and that the holy divinity cannot prolong
the bounds of fate or struggle against the fixed laws of nature.
Then see we not the monuments of men, fall into ruin, ask for themselves as well,
whether you'd believe that they decay with years? Sea we not? Basalt rocks tumble down,
riven away from high mountains and unable to endure and suffer the strong might of finite age?
Surely they would never fall suddenly, thus riven away, if for infinite time passed they had held
out against all the batteries of age without a crash. Again, gaze on this, which about and above
holds in its embrace all the earth. If it begets all things out of itself, as some say, and takes them back
when they are destroyed, then the whole of it has had a birth and is of a mortal body. For whatever gives
increase and food out of itself to other things must be lessened and must be replenished when it
takes things back. Again, if there was no birth time of earth and heaven, and they have been from everlasting,
why before the Theban War and the destruction of Troy have not other poets as well sung other themes?
Whither have so many deeds of men so often passed away? Why live they nowhere embodied in lasting
records of fame? The truth methinks is that the sum has but a recent date, and the nature of the
world is new and has but lately had its commencement. Wherefore even now some arts are receiving
their last polish. Some are even in course of growth. Just now many improvements have been made in ships.
Only yesterday musicians have given birth to tuneful melodies. Then, too, this nature or system of
things has been discovered lately, and I, the very first of all, have only now been found able to
transfer it into native words. But if happily you believe that before this all things have
existed just the same, but that the generations of men have perished by burning heat,
or that cities have fallen by some great concussion of the world, or that after constant rains,
devouring rivers have gone forth over the earth and have whelmed towns.
So much the more you must yield and admit that there will be entire destruction to of earth and heaven.
For when things were tried by so great distempers and so great dangers, at that time had a more
disastrous cause pressed upon them, they would far and wide have gone to destruction and mighty ruin.
And in no other way are we proved to be mortals except because we all alike in turn fall sick of the same
diseases which those had whom nature has withdrawn from life. Again, whatever things last forever,
must either because they are of solid body repel strokes and not suffer ought to pass into them,
sufficient to disunite the closely massed parts within. Such are the bodies of matter whose nature we have
shown before. Or they must be able to endure through all time for this reason, because they are exempt
from blows, as void is which remains untouched and suffers not a jot from any stroke,
or else because there is no extent of room around into which things, so to say, may depart,
and be broken up. In this way, the sum of sums is,
is eternal and there is no place outside into which things may spring asunder, nor are there any
bodies which can fall upon them and dissolve them by a powerful blow. But the nature of the world,
as I have shown, is neither of solid body, since void is mixed up in things, nor is it again like
void. No, nor is there lack of bodies that may happily rise up in mass out of the infinite,
and overthrow this sum of things with furious tornado, or bring upon them some other perilous disaster,
nor further is the nature of room or the space of deep void wanting, into which the walls of the
world may be scattered abroad, or they may be assailed and perish by some other force.
Therefore, the gate of death is not closed against heaven or sun or earth or the deep waters of the sea,
but stands open and looks toward them with huge, wide, gaping maw.
And therefore also you must admit that these things likewise had a birth,
for things which are of mortal body could not, for an infinite time, back up to the present,
have been able to set it not the puissant strength of a measurable age.
Again, since the chiefest members of the world fight so hotly together,
fiercely stirred by no hallowed civil warfare, see you not that some limit may be set to their long struggle?
Either when the sun and all heat shall have drunk up all the waters and gotten the mastery,
this they are ever striving to do, but as yet are unable to accomplish their endeavors.
Such abundance supplies the rivers furnish and threaten to turn aggressors and flood all things with a deluge
from the deep gulfs of ocean.
All in vain,
since the winds sweeping over the seas
and the ethereal sun decomposing them with his rays,
do lessen them,
and trust to be able to dry all things up
before water can attain the end of its endeavor.
Such a war do they breathe out with undecided issue
and strive with each other to determine it for mighty ends.
Though once, by the way, fire got the upper hand,
and once, as the story goes, water reigned paramount in the fields.
Fire gained the mastery and licked and burnt up many things,
when the headstrong might of the horses of the sun dashed from the course
and hurried Faiton through the whole sky and over all lands.
But the Almighty Father stirred then to fierce wrath,
with a sudden thunderstroke dashed Faiton down from his horses to earth,
and the son meeting him as he fell caught from.
from him the ever-burning lamp of the world, and got in hand the scattered steeds, and yoke them
shaking all over, then guided them on their proper course, and gave fresh life to all things.
Thus to wit have the old poets of the Greek sung, though it is all too widely at variance with
true reason. Fire may gain the mastery when more bodies of matter than usual have gathered
themselves up out of the infinite, and then its powers decay, vanquished in some way or other
or else things perish, burnt up by the torrid air. Water, two of your gathered itself and began
to get the mastery as the story goes, when it whelmed many cities of men, and then when all that
force that had gathered itself up out of the infinite, by some means or other was turned aside
and withdrew, the rains were stayed, and the rivers abated their fury.
But in what ways yon concourse of matter found at earth and heaven and the deeps of the sea,
the courses of the sun and moon, I will next in order describe, for verily, not by design,
did the first beginnings of things station themselves each in its right place by keen intelligence,
nor did they bargain sooth to say what motions each should assume,
but because the first beginnings of things many in number in many ways,
impelled by blows for infinite ages back, and kept in motion by their own weights, have been wont to be
carried along, and to unite in all manner of ways, and thoroughly to test every kind of production
possible by their mutual combinations. Therefore it is that spread abroad through great time
after trying unions and motions of every kind, they at length meet together in those masses
which suddenly brought together become often the rudiments of great things,
of earth, sea, and heaven, and the race of living things.
At this time, then, neither could the sun's disk be discerned flying aloft with its abundant
light, nor the stars of great ether, nor sea, nor heaven, no, nor earth, nor air,
nor could anything be seen like to our things, but only a strange, stormy crisis and medley,
gathered together out of first beginnings of every kind,
whose state of discord, joining battle disordered their interspaces,
passages, connections, weights, blows, clashings, and motions,
because by reason of their unlike forms and varied shapes,
they could not all remain thus joined together,
nor fall into mutually harmonious motions.
Then next, the several parts began to fly asunder in things to be joined,
to like with like, and to mark off the world and portion out its members and arrange its mighty parts,
that is to say, to separate high heaven from earth and let the sea spread itself out apart with its
unmixed water, and likewise let the fires of ether spread apart pure and unmixed.
For first, the several bodies of earth, because they were heavy and closely entangled,
met together in the middle, and took up all of them the lowest,
and the more they got entangled and the closer their union, the more they squeezed out those
particles which were to make up sea, stars, sun, and moon, and the walls of the great world.
All these are of smooth, round seeds and of much smaller elements than the earth.
Therefore, the fire-laden ether first burst forth from the different parts of the earth,
through all the porous openings and lightly bore off with itself many fires,
much in the same way as we often see, so soon as the morning light of the beaming sun blushes golden over the grass,
jeweled with dew, and the pools and the ever-running rivers exhale a mist,
and even as the earth itself is sometimes seen to smoke,
and when all these are gathered together aloft,
then do clouds on high with now a cohering body, weave a covering beneath heaven.
In this way, therefore, then the light and expansive ether with its now-cohering body swept round
and arched itself on all sides, and expanding widely in all directions round in this way,
fenced all other things in with its greedy grasp.
After it followed the rudiments of sun and moon, whose spheres turn round and air midway between
earth and ether.
these neither earth has taken unto itself nor greatest ether because they are neither heavy enough to sink
and settle down nor light enough to glide along the uppermost borders they yet however are so placed between the two
as to wheel along their lifelike bodies and still be parts of the whole world just as in us some members may be at rest while others at the same time are in motion
These things then being withdrawn, the earth in those parts where the vast azure level of ocean now spreads,
in a moment sank in and drenched with salt flood the hollows.
At every day the more the heats of ether round and the rays of the sun on all sides
compressed the earth into a close mass by oft-repeated blows on all its outer edges,
so that thus buffeted it was condensed and drawn together about its center,
ever the more did the salt sweat squeezed out of its body increased by its oozinges the sea and floating fields,
and ever the more did those many bodies of heat and air escape and fly abroad and condense far away from earth,
the high glittering quarters of heaven. The plain sank down, the high hills grew in elevation,
for the rocks could not settle down, nor all the parts sink to one uniform level.
End of Section 27.
Section 28 of On the Nature of Things by Titus Lucretius Karras.
This Librovoc's recording is in the public domain.
Book 5, Part 3.
Thus then, the ponderous mass of Earth was formed with close, cohering body,
and all the slime of the world, so to speak,
slid down by its weight to the lowest point,
and settled at the bottom like dregs.
then the sea, then the air, then the fire-laden ether itself, all are left unmixed with their
clear bodies, and some are lighter than others, and clearest and lightest of all,
ether floats upon the airy currents, and blends not its clear body with the troubled airs.
It suffers all these things below to be upset with furious hurricanes,
suffer them to be troubled by wayward storms, while it carries along its own fire,
gliding with a changeless onward sweep. For that ether may stream on gently and with one uniform
effort, the Pontoes shows, a sea which streams with a changeless current ever preserving one
uniform gliding course. Let us now sing what causes the motions of the stars. In the first place,
if the great sphere of heaven revolves, we must say that an air presses on the pole at each end
and confines it on the outside and closes it in at both ends, and then that a third air streams
above and moves in the same direction in which roll on as they shine the stars of the eternal world,
or else that this third air streams below in order to carry up the sphere in the contrary
direction, just as we see rivers turn wheels and water scoops. It is likewise quite possible,
too, that all the heaven remains at rest, while at the same,
same time the glittering signs are carried on, either because rapid heats of ether are shut in
and whirl round while seeking a way out, and roll their fires in all directions through heaven's
Samanian quarters, or else an air streaming from some part from another source outside,
drives and whirls the fires, or else they may glide on of themselves going whithersoever the food
of each called and invites them, feeding their flamy bodies every,
throughout heaven. For which of these causes is an operation in this world, it is not easy to
affirm for certain. But what can be and is done throughout the universe in various worlds formed
on various plans, this I teach, and I go on to set forth several causes which may exist
throughout the universe for the motions of stars, one of which, however, must in this world also be the
cause that imparts lively motion to the signs. But to dictate which of them it is is by no means
the duty of the man who advances step by step. And in order that the earth may rest in the
middle of the world, it is proper that its weight should gradually pass away and be lessened,
and that it should have another nature underneath it, conjoined from the beginning of its existence,
and formed into one being with the airy portions of the world in which it is embodied and
lives. For this reason, it is no burden and does not weigh down the air. Just as his limbs are of no
weight to a man, nor is his head a burden to his neck, nor do we feel that the whole weight of the
body rests on the feet, but whatever weights come from without and are laid upon us, hurt us,
though they are often very much smaller. Of such great moment is it what function each thing has to
perform. Thus then, the earth is not an alien body suddenly brought in and forced from some other
quarter on air alien to it, but was conceived together with it at the first birth of the world,
and is a fixed portion of that world, just as our limbs are seen to be to us.
Again, the earth, when suddenly shaken by loud thunder, shakes by its motion, all the things
which are above it, and this it could in no wise do, unless it,
it had been fast bound with the airy portions of the world and with heaven.
For the earth and they cohere with one another by common roots,
conjoined and formed into a single being from the beginning of their existence.
See you not, too, that great as is the weight of our body,
the force of the soul, though of the extremist, fineness, supports it,
because it is so closely conjoined and formed into a single being with it.
then, too, what is able to lift the body with a nimble bound, save the force of the mind which guides the limbs?
Now do you see what power a subtle nature may have when it is conjoined with a heavy body,
as the air is conjoined with the earth and the force of the mind with us?
Again, the disk of the sun cannot be much larger nor its body of heat much smaller than they appear to be to our senses,
For, from whatever distances, fires can reach us with their light, and breathe on our limbs burning heat.
Those distances take away nothing by such spaces between from the body of the flames.
The fire is not in the least narrowed in appearance.
Therefore, since the heat of the sun and the light which it sheds reach our senses and stroke the proper places,
the form two and size of the sun must be seen from this earth in their real dimensions,
so that you may not add anything whatever more or less.
And whether the moon, as it is born on,
illuminates places with a borrowed light,
or emits its own light from its own body,
whatever that is,
the form with which it is thus born on
is not at all larger than the one which it presents to our eyes
seems to be to us.
For all things which we see at a great distance,
through much air,
looked dimmed in appearance before their size is diminished.
Therefore, since the moon presents a bright aspect and well-defined form, it must be seen on high
bias from this earth precisely such as it is in the outline which defines it, and of the size
it actually is.
Lastly, in the case of all those fires of ether, which you observe from the earth, since in
the case of fires which we see here on earth, so long as their flickering is distinct,
So long as their heat is perceived, their size is seen sometimes to change to a very, very small
extent either way, according to the distance at which they are, you may infer that the fires of
ether may be smaller than they look in an extremely minute degree, or larger, by a very
small and insignificant fraction. This likewise need not excite wonder, how it is that so small a body
as yon's sun can emit so great a light, enough to flood completely seas and all lands and heaven,
and to steep all things in its burning heat. It well may be that a single spring, for the whole world,
may open up from this spot and gush out in plenteous stream, and shoot forth light, because elements
of heat meet together from all sides out of the whole world in such manner, and the mass of them
thrown together streams to a point in such manner that this heat wells forth from a single source.
See you not, too, what a breadth of meadowland, a small spring of water sometimes floods streaming out
over the fields. It is likewise possible that heat from the sun's flame, though not at all great,
may infect the whole air with fervent fires. If happily the air is in a suitable and susceptible
state, so that it can be kindled when struck by small bodies of heat. Thus we see sometimes a general
conflagration from a single spark catch fields of corn and stubble. Perhaps, too, the sun as he shines
aloft with rosy lamp, has round about him much fire with heats that are not visible, and thus the fire
may be marked by no radiance, so that, fraught with heat, it increases to such a degree the stroke of the rays.
nor with regard to the sun is there one single explanation certain and manifest of the way in which he passes from his summer positions to the midwinter turning point of capricorn and then coming back from thence bends his course to the solstitial goal of cancer and how the moon is seen once a month to pass over that space in traversing which the sun spends the period of a year no single plain cause i say has been assigned to
for these things. It seems highly probable that that may be the truth, which the revered judgment of the
worthy man, Democritus maintains. The nearer the different constellations are to the earth,
the less they can be carried along with the whirl of heaven, for the velocity of its force,
he says, passes away, and the intensity diminishes in the lower parts, and therefore the sun is
gradually left behind with the rearward signs, because he is much lower than the burning signs.
and the moon more than the sun. The lower her path is, and the more distant she is from heaven,
and the nearer she approaches to earth, the less she can keep pace with the signs.
For the fainter the whirl is in which she is born along, being as she is lower than the sun,
so much the more, all the signs around overtake and pass her. Therefore it is that she appears
to come back to every sign more quickly, because the signs go more quickly back to her,
It is quite possible, too, that from quarters of the world crossing the sun's path,
two airs may stream each in its turn at a fixed time, one of which may force the sun away from
the summer signs, so far as his winter turning point and freezing cold, and the other may force
him back from the freezing shades of cold as far as the heat-laden quarters and burning signs.
And in like manner we must suppose that the moon and the stars which make
revolutions of great years in great orbits may pass by means of airs from opposite quarters in turn.
See you not, too, that clouds from contrary winds pass in contrary directions, the upper,
in a contrary way to the lower. Why may not yon stars just as well be borne on through their
great orbits in ether by currents contrary one to the other? But night buries the earth in thick
darkness, either when the sun after his long course has struck upon the utmost parts of heaven,
and now exhausted, has blown forth all his fires shaken by their journey and weakened by passing
through much air, or else because the same force which has carried on his orb above the earth,
compels him to change his course and pass below the earth.
At a fixed time, too, Matuta spreads rosy morning over the borders of ether,
and opens up her light, either because the same sun coming back below the earth,
seizes heaven before his time, trying to kindle it with his rays,
or because fires meet together and many seeds of heat are accustomed to stream together at a fixed time,
which caused new sunlight to be born every day. Thus they tell that from the high mountains of Ida,
scattered fires are seen at daybreak, that these then unite, as it were, into a
single ball and make up an orb. And herein it ought to cause no surprise that these seeds of fire
stream together at a time so surely fixed and reproduced the radiance of the sun. For we see many
occurrences which take place at a fixed time in all things. At a fixed time trees blossom,
and at a fixed time shed their blossoms, and at a time no less surely fixed, age bids the teeth be shed,
and the boy put on the soft dress of puberty,
and let a soft beard fall down equally from each cheek.
Lastly, lightnings, snow, rains, clouds, and winds
take place at not very irregular seasons of year.
For where causes from their very first beginnings have been in this way,
and things have thus fallen out from the first birth of the world,
in due sequence two they now come round after a fixed order.
Likewise days may lengthen and nights wane, and days shorten when the nights receive increase,
either because the same sun running his course below the earth and above in curves of unlike length,
parts the borders of ether and divides his orbit into unequal halves,
and as he comes round, adds on in the opposite half,
just as much as he has subtracted from the other of the two halves,
until he has arrived at that sign of heaven where the node of the year makes the shades of night
of the same length as the daylight. For when the sun's course lies midway between the blast of the
north and of the south, heaven keeps his two goals apart at distances, now rendered exactly equal
on account of the position of the whole starry circle, in gliding through which the sun takes up
a period of a year, lighting with slanting rays, earth, and heaven, as is clearly shown by the
plans of those who have mapped out all the quarters of heaven as they are set off with their array of
signs. Or else because the air is denser in certain parts, therefore the quivering beam of fire is
retarded below the earth and cannot easily pass through and force its way out to its place of rising,
for this reason in wintertime nights linger long ere the beamy badge of day arrive.
Or else because in the way just mentioned at alternate points of the year,
fires are accustomed to stream together more slowly and more quickly,
which cause the sun to rise in a certain point,
therefore it is that those appear to speak the truth who suppose a fresh sun to be born every day.
The moon may shine because of the sun to be born every day. The moon may shine because,
struck by the sun's rays, and turn that light in every day more and more directly towards our
sight in proportion as she recedes from the sun's orb, until just opposite to him,
she has shone out with full light, and at her rising as she soars aloft has beheld his setting,
and then by slow steps reversing as it were her course, she must in the same way hide her light,
the nearer and nearer she now glides to the sun from a different quarter,
through the circle of the signs, according to the theory of those who supposed the moon to be like a
ball and to hold on her course under the sun. She may also very possibly revolve with her own light
and display various phases of brightness, for there may well be another body which is carried on
and glides in her company, getting before her path and obstructing her in all manner of ways,
and yet cannot be seen because it glides on without light.
She may also revolve, like it may be, to a spherical ball steeped over one half in shining light,
and as she rolls round this sphere she may present changing phases,
until she has turned that half which is illuminated full towards our sight and open eyes.
Then by slow steps, she whirls back and withdraws the light-fraught half of the spherical ball,
as the Babylonian science of the Caldees, refuting the system of the Astronomers,
essays to prove an opposition to them. Just as though that which each party fights for might not be
equally true, or there were any reason why you should venture to embrace the one theory less than the
other. Again, why a new moon should not be born every day after a regular succession of forms and
regular phases, and each day the one which is born perish and another be produced in its room instead.
It is not easy to teach by reasoning or prove by words, since so many things can be born in such a regular
succession. Spring and Venus go their way, and the winged harbinger of Venus steps on before,
and close on Zephyr's footprints, Mother Flora strews all the way before them and covers it over
with the choicest colors and odors. Next in order follows parching heat, and in its company
dusty series and the Etesian blasts of the north winds. Next, autumn advances and Euthius
Yuan steps on together. Then other seasons and winds follow. Loud roaring Volturnus and the south
wind stored with lightning. At last, midwinter brings with its snows and gives back benumbing cold.
After it, follows winter with teeth chattering with cold. It is there a
the less strange that a moon is begotten at a fixed time and at a fixed time is destroyed again,
since many things may take place at a time so surely fixed.
End of Section 28. Section 29 of On the Nature of Things by Titus Lucretius Karras.
This Librovox recording is in the public domain read by Pamela Nagami.
Book 5, Part 4.
The Eclipse is of the Sun likewise, and the
obscurations of the moon you may suppose to take place from many different causes. For why should the
moon be able to shut the earth out from the sun's light, and on the earthward side, put in his way her
high exalted head, placing her dark oar before his burning rays, and yet at the same time it
be thought that another body gliding on ever without light cannot do the same? Why, too, should not the
sun be able, quite exhausted, to lose its fires at a fixed time, and again reproduce his light,
when in his journey through the air he has passed by spots fatal to his flames, which cause his
fires to be quenched and to perish. And why should the earth be able, in turn, to rob the moon of
light, and, moreover herself, to keep the sun suppressed, while in her monthly course,
she glides through the well-defined shadows of the cone, and yet at the same time another
body not be able to pass under the moon or glide above the sun's orb, breaking off its rays and the
light it sheds forth. Yes, and if the moon shines with her own brightness, why should she not be
able to grow faint in a certain part of the world while she is passing through spots hostile
to her own light? And now further, since I have explained in what way everything might take place
throughout the blue of the great heaven. How we might know what force and cause set in motion the
varied courses of the sun and wanderings of the moon, and in what way their light might be
intercepted and they be lost to us, and spread darkness over the earth, little expecting it,
when, so to speak, they close their eye of light, and opening it again, survey all places
shining in bright radiance. I now go back to the infancy of the world, and the tender age of the field
of Earth, and show what first in their early essays of production they resolved to raise into the
borders of light and give in charge to the wayward winds. In the beginning, the earth gave forth
all kinds of herbage and verdant sheen about the hills and over all the plains. The flowery meadows
glittered with the bright green hue, and next in order, to the different trees, was given a strong
an emulous desire of growing up into the air with full unbridled powers. As feathers and hairs and bristles
are first born on the limbs of four-footed beasts and the body of the strong of wing, thus the new
earth then first put forth grass and bushes and next gave birth to the races of mortal creatures,
springing up many in number in many ways after divers fashions. For no living creatures can have dropped
from heaven, nor can those belonging to the land have come out of the salt pools.
It follows that with good reason the earth has gotten the name of mother, since all things
have been produced out of the earth. And many living creatures even now spring out of the earth,
taking form by rains in the heat of the sun. It is therefore the less strange if at that time
they sprang up more in number and larger in size, having come to maturity in the world. Having come to maturity in
the freshness of earth and ether. First of all, the race of fowls and the various birds would
leave their eggs hatched in the springtime, just as now in summer the cicadas leave spontaneously
their gossamer coats in quest of a living and life. Then you must know did the earth first give
forth races of mortal men, for much heat and moisture would then abound in the fields, and therefore
wherever a suitable spot offered,
wombs would grow attached to the earth by roots,
and when the warmth of the infants,
flying the wet and craving the air,
had opened these in the fullness of time,
nature would turn to that spot the pores of the earth
and constrain it to yield from its opened veins
a liquid most like to milk.
Even as nowadays, every woman when she has born
is filled with sweet milk,
because all that current of nutriment streams toward the breasts.
To the children, the earth would furnish food, the heat, raiment, the grass, a bed rich in
abundance of soft down. Then the fresh youth of the world would give forth neither severe colds
nor excessive heats nor gales of great violence, for all things grow and acquire strength
in a like proportion. Wherefore again and again I say,
the earth with good title has gotten and keeps the name of mother. Since she of herself gave birth
to mankind and at a time nearly fixed, shed forth every beast that ranges wildly over the great
mountains and at the same time the fowls of the air with all their varied shapes. But because she must
have some limit set to her bearing, she ceased like a woman worn out by length of days. For time changes the
nature of the whole world, and all things must pass on from one condition to another, and nothing
continues like to itself. All things quit their bounds, all things nature changes and compels to
alter. One thing crumbles away and is worn and enfeebled with age, then another comes into honor
and issues out of its state of contempt. In this way, when time changes the nature of the whole world,
and the earth passes out of one condition into another, what once it could, it can bear no more
in order to be able to bear, what before it did not bear. And many monsters too, the earth at that
time, essay to produce, things coming up with a strange face and limbs, the man-woman, a thing
between the two and neither the one sex nor the other, widely differing from both. Some things
deprived of feet, others again destitute of hands, others too, proving dumb without mouth or blind
without eyes, and things bound fast by the adhesion of their limbs over all the body, so that they
could not do anything nor go anywhere, nor avoid the evil, nor take what their needs required.
Every other monster important of this kind she would produce, but all in vain, since nature set a
ban on their increase and they could not reach the coveted flower of age, nor find food, nor be
united in marriage. For we see that many conditions must meet together in things, in order that they
may beget and continue their kinds, first a supply of food, then a way by which the birth-producing
seeds throughout the frame may stream from the relaxed limbs. Also, in order that the woman may be
united with the male, the possession of organs whereby they may each interchange mutual joys.
And many races of living things must then have died out and been unable to beget and continue their
breed, for in the case of all things which you see breathing the breath of life, either craft
or courage or else speed, has from the beginning of its existence protected and preserved each
particular race. And there are many things which recommended to us by their useful services continue
to exist consigned to our protection. In the first place, the fierce breed of lions and the savage
races their courage has protected, foxes, their craft, and stags their proneness to flight.
But light-sleeping dogs with faithful heart and breast, and every kind which is born of the seed of
beasts of burden, and at the same time the woolly flocks and the horned herds are all consigned,
Memius, to the protection of man. For they have ever fled with eagerness from wild beasts,
and have ensued peace and plenty of food obtained without their own labor, as we give it
in requital of their useful services. But those to whom nature has granted none of these qualities,
so that they could neither live by their own means,
nor perform for us any useful service in return for which
we should suffer their kind to feed and be safe under our protection,
those you are to know would lie exposed as a prey and booty of others,
hampered all in their own death-bringing shackles,
until nature brought that kind to utter destruction.
But centaurs never have existed,
and at no time can there exist things of twofold nature and double body formed into one frame out of limbs of alien kinds,
such that the faculties and powers of this and that portion cannot be sufficiently like.
This, however dull of understanding you may learn from what follows.
To begin, a horse when three years have gone round is in the prime of its figure,
far different the boy. Often even at that age he will call in his sleep for the milk of the breast.
Afterwards, when in advanced age his lusty strength and limbs now faint with ebbing life fail the horse,
then and not till then, youth in the flower of age commences for that boy, and clothes his cheeks in soft down,
that you may not happily believe that out of a man and the burden-carrying seat of horses,
centaurs may be formed and have being,
or that skilless with bodies half those of fishes girdled round with raving dogs can exist,
and all other things of the kind whose limbs we see cannot harmonize together,
as they neither come to their flower at the same time,
nor reach the fullness of their bodily strength,
nor lose it in advanced old age,
nor burn with similar passions, nor have compatible manners,
nor feel the same things give pleasure throughout their frames. Thus we may see bearded goats often
fatten on hemlock, which for man is rank poison. Since flame, moreover, is wont to scorch and burn the tawny
bodies of lions, just as much as any other kind of flesh and blood existing on earth,
how could it be that a single chimera with triple body, in front a lion, behind a dragon in the
middle, the goat whose name it bears, could breathe out at the mouth, fierce flame from its body?
Wherefore also he who fables, that in the new time of the earth and the fresh youth of heaven,
such living creatures could have been begotten, resting on this one feudal term new, may babble
out many things in like fashion, may say that rivers then ran with gold over all parts of the earth,
and that trees were wont to blossom with precious stones, or that man
was born with such giant force of frame that he could wade on foot through deep seas and whirl the
whole heaven about with his hands. For the fact that there were many seeds of things in the earth
what time at first shed forth living creatures is yet no proof that there could have been produced
beasts of different kinds mixed together and limbs of different living things formed into a
single frame, because the kinds of herbage and corn and joyous trees, which even now spring in
plenty out of the earth, yet cannot be produced with the several sorts plated into one,
but each thing goes on after its own fashion, and all preserve their distinctive differences
according to a fixed law of nature. But the race of man then in the field was much hardier
as besiemed it to be, since the hard earth had produced it and built it on a
groundwork of larger and more solid bones within, knit with powerful sinews throughout the
frame of flesh, not lightly to be disabled by heat or cold or strange kinds of food or any
malady of body. And during the revolution of many lustres of the sun through heaven,
they led a life after the roving fashion of wild beasts. No one then was the sturdy guider of the
bent plow, or knew how to labor the fields with iron, or plant in the ground,
young saplings, or lop with pruning hooks, old boughs from the high trees. What the sun and
rains had given, what the earth had produced spontaneously, was gurdens sufficient to content their
hearts. Among acorn-bearing oaks they would refresh their bodies for the most part, and the
arboot berries which you now see in the wintertime ripen with a bright scarlet hue, the earth would
then bear in greatest plenty and of a larger size, and many,
course kinds of food besides the teeming freshness of the world then bear, more than enough for poor
wretched men. But rivers and springs invited to slake thirst, even as now a rush of water down from the
great hills summons with clear plash far and wide the thirsty races of wild beasts. Then too, as they
ranged about, they would occupy the well-known woodland haunts of the nymphs, out of which they knew that
smooth, gliding streams of water with a copious gush, bathed the dripping rocks, trickling down over
the green moss, and in parts welled and bubbled out over the level plain. And as yet they knew not
how to supply fire to their purposes, or to make use of skins and clothe their body in the spoils of
wild beasts. But they would dwell in woods and mountain caves and forests, and shelter in the
brushwood their squalid limbs when driven to shun the buffeting of the winds and
the reins. And they were unable to look to the general wheel and knew not how to make a common use of
any customs or laws. Whatever prize fortune threw in his way, each man would bear off, trained at his own
discretion to think of himself and live for himself alone. And Venus would join the bodies of lovers in the
woods, for each woman was gained over either by mutual desire or by the headstrong violence and
vehement lust of the man, or a bribe of some acorns in our bootberries or choice pears.
And trusting to the marvelous powers of their hands and feet, they would pursue the forest
haunting races of wild beasts with showers of stones and club of ponderous weight,
and many they would conquer, a few they would avoid in hiding places, and,
like two bristly swine just as they were, they would throw their savage limbs all naked on the
ground when overtaken by night, covering themselves up with leaves and boughs. Yet never with
loud wailings would they call for the daylight and the sun wandering terror-stricken over the
fields in the shadows of night. But silent and buried in sleep, they would wait till the sun with
rosy torch carried light into heaven, for accustomed as they had been from childhood,
always to see darkness and light-begotten time about, never could any wonder come over them,
nor any misgiving, that never-ending night would cover the earth and the light of the sun be
withdrawn forevermore. But what gave them trouble was rather the races of wild beasts,
which would often render repose fatal to the poor wretches, and driven from their home, they would fly
from their rocky shelters on the approach of a foaming bear or a strong lion, and in the dead of
night, they would surrender in terror to their savage guests, their sleeping places strewn with leaves.
End of Section 29. Section 30 of On the Nature of Things by Titus Lucretius Karras. This
Libravox recording is in the public domain read by Pamela Nagami. Book 5, Part 5. Nor then much more than now
could the races of mortal men leave the sweet light of ebbing life, for then this one or that other one of
them would be more likely to be seized and torn open by their teeth would furnish to the wild beasts
a living food, and would fill with his moaning, woods and mountains and forests, as he looked on
his living flesh buried in a living grave. But those whom flight had saved with body eaten into,
holding ever after their quivering palms over the noisome sores, would summon death with
appalling cries, until cruel grippings had rid them of life, forlorn of help, unwitting what
wounds wanted. But then a single day gave not over to death many thousands of men marching with
banners spread, nor did the stormy waters of the sea dash on the rocksmen and ships. At this time,
the sea would often rise up and rage without aim, without purpose, without result, and just as lightly
put off its empty threats. Nor could the winning wiles of the calm sea treacherously entice anyone to his
ruin with laughing waters, when the reckless craft of a skipper had not yet risen into the light.
Then, too, want of food would consign to death their fainting frames. Now, on the contrary,
tis plenty sinks into ruin. They unwittingly would often pour out poison for themselves.
Now, with nicer skill, men give it to their son's wife instead. Next, after they had got themselves
huts and skins and fire, and the woman united with the man, passed with him into one domicile and the
duties of wedlock were learnt by the two, and they saw an offspring born from them. Then first,
mankind began to soften. For fire made their chilled bodies less able now to bear the frost
beneath the canopy of heaven, and Venus impaired their strength, and their children with their
caresses soon broke down the haughty temper of parents. Then, too, neighbors began to join in a league
of friendship, mutually desiring neither to do nor suffer harm, and asked for indulgence to children
and womankind, when with cries and gestures they declared in stammering speech that meet it is for
all to have mercy on the weak. And though harmony could not be established without exception,
yet a very large portion observed their agreements with good faith,
or else the race of man would then have been wholly cut off.
Nor could breeding have continued their generations to this day.
But nature impelled them to utter the various sounds of the tongue,
and use struck out the names of things,
much in the same way as the inability to speak is seen in its turn
to drive children to the use of gestures,
when it forces them to point with the finger at the things which are before them.
For everyone feels how far he can make use of his peculiar powers.
Air the horns of a calf are formed and project from his forehead,
he butts with it when angry and pushes out in his rage.
Then whelps of panthers and cubs of lions fight with claws and feet and teeth
at a time when teeth and claws are hardly yet formed.
Again we see every kind of foul trust to wings
and seek from pinions of fluttering sucker.
Therefore to suppose that some one man at that time apportioned names to things
and that men from him learnt their first words as sheer folly.
For why should this particular man be able to denote all things by words
and to utter the various sounds of the tongue, and yet at the same time others be supposed not to have
been able to do so. Again, if others as well as he had not made use of words among themselves,
whence was implanted in this man the previous conception of its use, and whence was given to him
the original faculty to know and perceive in mind what he wanted to do. Again, one man could not
constrain and subdue and force many to choose to learn the names of things. It is no easy thing in
any way to teach and convince the depth of what is needful to be done, for they never would suffer,
nor in any way endure sounds of voice hitherto unheard, to continue to be dinned fruitlessly into
their ears. Lastly, what is there so passing strange in this circumstance, that the race of men whose
voice and tongue were in full force, should denote things by different words as different feelings
prompted. Since dumb brutes, yes, and the races of wild beasts are accustomed to give forth
distinct and varied sounds, when they have fear or pain, and when joys are rife. This you may
learn from facts plain to sense, when the large, spongy, open lips of Melosi and dogs begin to growl
enraged, and bear their hard teeth, thus drawn back in rage, they threaten in a tone far different
from that in which they bark outright and fill with sounds all the places round.
Again, when they essay fondly to lick their whelps with their tongue, or when they toss them
with their feet and snapping at them make a faint with lightly closing teeth of swallowing,
though with gentle forbearance, they caress them with a yelping sound of a sort,
greatly differing from that which they utter, when left alone in a house, they bay,
or when they slink away howling from blows with a crouching body.
Again, is not the nay seen too to differ, when a young stallion in the flower of age
rages among the mares, smitten by the goads of winged love, and when with wide-stretched
nostrils, he snorts out the signal to arms, and when,
when, as it chances, on any other occasion, he nays with limbs all shaking.
Lastly, the race of fowls and various birds, hawks and ospreys and gulls, seeking their
living in the salt water amid the ways of the sea, utter at a different time noises widely
different from those they make when they are fighting for food and struggling with their prey.
And some of them change together with the weather their harsh croakings, as the long long
long-lived races of crows and flocks of rooks when they are said to be calling for water and rain,
and sometimes to be summoning winds and gales. Therefore, if different sensations compel creatures,
dumb though they be, to utter different sounds, how much more natural it is that mortal men
in those times should have been able to denote dissimilar things by many different words.
And lest haply on this head you ask in silent thought this question,
question, it was lightning that brought fire down on earth for mortals in the beginning.
Thence the whole heat of flames is spread abroad. Thus we see many things shine dyed in heavenly
flames when the stroke from heaven has stored them with its heat. Aye, and without this,
when a branching tree sways to and fro and tosses about under the buffeting of the winds,
pressing against the boughs of another tree,
fire is forced out by the power of the violent friction,
and sometimes the burning heat of flame flashes out,
the boughs and stems rubbing against each other.
Now either of these accidents may have given fire to men.
Next, the sun taught them to cook food and soften it with the heat of flame,
since they would see many things grow mellow when subdued by the strokes of
rays and by heat throughout the land. And more and more every day, men who excelled in intellect and
were of vigorous understanding would kindly show them how to exchange their former way of living
for new methods. Kings began to build towns and lay out a citadel as a place of strength
and of refuge for themselves, and divided cattle and lands, and gave to each man in proportion
to his personal beauty and strength and intellect, for beauty and vigorous strength were much esteemed.
Afterwards, wealth was discovered and gold found out, which soon robbed of their honors strong and
beautiful alike, for men, however valiant and beautiful of person, generally follow in the train of the
richer man. But were a man to order his life by the rules of true reason, a frugal subsistence,
join to a contented mind is for him great riches, for never is there any lack of a little.
But men desired to be famous and powerful in order that their fortunes might rest on a firm
foundation, and they might be able by their wealth to lead a tranquil life. But in vain, since in their
struggle to mount up to the highest dignities, they rendered their path one full of danger,
and even if they reach it yet envy like a thunderbolt, sometimes strikes and dashes men down from the highest point with ignominy into noisome tartarus, since the highest summits and those elevated above the level of other things are mostly blasted by envy as by a thunderbolt, so that far better it is to obey in peace and quiet than to wish to rule with power supreme and be the master of kingdoms.
Therefore, let men wear themselves out to no purpose, and sweat drops of blood as they struggle
on along the straight road of ambition, since they gather their knowledge from the mouths of others,
and follow after things from hearsay rather than the dictates of their own feelings,
and this prevails not now, nor will prevail by and by, any more than it has prevailed before.
kings therefore being slain the old majesty of thrones and proud sceptres were overthrown and laid in the dust
and the glorious badge of the sovereign head blood-stained beneath the feet of the rabble mourned for its high prerogative
for that is greedily trampled on which before was too much dreaded it would come then in the end to the lees of uttermost disorder
each man seeking for himself empire and sovereignty.
Next, a portion of them taught men to elect legal officers and draw up codes to induce men to obey the laws.
For mankind, tired out with a life of brute force, lay exhausted from its feuds,
and therefore the more readily it submitted of its own free will to laws and stringent codes.
for as each one moved by anger took measures to avenge himself with more severity than is now permitted by equitable laws.
For this reason, men grew sick of a life of brute force.
Thence fear of punishment marred the prizes of life, for violence and wrong enclose all who commit them in their meshes,
and do mostly recoil on him from whom they began. And it is not easy for him who by his deeds
transgresses the terms of the public peace to pass a tranquil and a peaceful existence. For though he
eludes God and man, yet he cannot but feel a misgiving that his secret can be kept forever.
Seeing that many by speaking in their dreams or in the wanderings of disease, have often we are told,
betrayed themselves and have disclosed their hidden deeds of evil and their sins.
And now what cause has spread over great nations the worship of the divinities of the gods,
and filled towns with altars, and led to the performance of stated sacred rites,
rights now in fashion on solemn occasions and in solemn places,
from which even now is implanted in mortals,
a shuddering awe which raises new temples of the gods over the whole earth,
and prompts men to crowd them on festive days?
all this it is not so difficult to explain in words.
Even then in sooth the races of mortal men would see in waking mind, glorious forms,
would see them in sleep of yet more marvelous size of body.
To these then they would attribute sense,
because they seemed to move their limbs,
and to utter lofty words suitable to their glorious aspect and surpassing powers.
And they would give them life everlasting,
because their face would ever appear before them in their form abide. Yes, and yet without all this,
because they would not believe that beings possessed of such powers could lightly be overcome by any
force. And they would believe them to be preeminent in bliss, because none of them was ever
troubled with the fear of death, and because at the same time in sleep, they would see them perform many
miracles, yet feel on their part no fatigue from the effort. Again, they would see the system of
heaven and the different seasons of the years come round in regular succession, and could not find
out by what cause this was done. Therefore, they would seek a refuge in handing over all things to the
gods, and supposing all things to be guided by their nod. And they placed in heaven the abodes and realms
of the gods, because night and moon are seen to roll through heaven, moon, day and night,
and night's austere constellations and night-wandering meteors of the sky and flying bodies of
flame. Clouds, sun, rains, snow, winds, lightnings, hail, and rapid rumblings, and loud,
threatful thunderclaps. End of Section 30. Section 31 of On the Nature of Things
by Titus Lucretius Karras. This Libravox recording is in the public domain read by Pamela Nagami.
Book 5, Part 6
O hapless race of men when they charged the gods with such acts and coupled with them bitter wrath.
What groanings did they then beget for themselves? What wounds for us? What tears for our children's children?
No act is it of piety to be often seen with veiled head, to turn to a stone and approach every altar,
and fall prostrate on the ground, and spread out the palms before the statues of the gods,
and sprinkle the altars with much blood of beasts, and link vow unto vow,
but rather to be able to look on all things with a mind at peace.
For when we turn our gaze on the heavenly quarters of the great upper world and ether,
fast above the glittering stars, and direct our thoughts to the courses of the sun and moon.
Then into our breasts, burdened with other ills, that fear as well begins to exalt its reawakened head,
the fear that we may happily find the power of the gods to be unlimited,
able to wheel the bright stars in their very motion. For lack of power to solve the question
troubles the mind with doubts, whether there was ever a birth time of the world, and whether likewise
there is to be any end. How far the walls of the world can endure this strain of restless action,
or whether, gifted by the grace of the gods with an everlasting existence, they may glide on through a never-ending
tract of time, and defy the strong powers of immeasurable ages. Again, who is there whose mind does not shrink
into itself with fear of the gods, whose limbs do not cower in terror when the parched earth
rocks with the appalling thunderstroke, and rattlings run through the great heaven.
Do not peoples and nations quake, and proud monarchs shrink into themselves, smitten with
fear of the gods, lest for any foul transgression or overweening word, the heavy time of
reckoning has arrived at its fullness?
when, too, the utmost fury of the headstrong wind passes over the sea and sweeps over its waters the
commander of a fleet together with his mighty legions and elephants, does he not draw near with vows to
seek the mercy of the gods, and ask in prayer with fear and trembling, allull in the winds,
and propitious gales? But all in vain. Since often caught up in the furious hurricane, he is born
nonetheless to the shoals of death.
So constantly does some hidden power trample on human grandeur
and is seen to tread under its heel and make sport for itself
of the renowned rods and cruel axes.
Again, when the whole earth rocks under their feet
and towns tumble with a shock or doubtfully threatened to fall,
what wonder that mortal men abase themselves and make over to the gods
in things here on earth, high prerogatives and marvelous powers sufficient to govern all things.
To proceed. Copper and gold and iron were discovered, and at the same time weighty silver and the
substance of lead, when fire with its heat had burnt up vast forests on the great hills,
either by a discharge of heaven's lightning, or else because men waging with one another a forest war,
had carried fire among the enemy in order to strike terror,
or because, drawn on by the goodness of the soil,
they would wish to clear rich fields and bring the country into pasture,
or else to destroy wild beasts and enrich themselves with the booty.
For hunting with the pitfall and with fire came into use,
before the practice of enclosing the lawn with toils and stirring it with dogs.
Whatever the fact is, from whatever cause,
the heat of flame had swallowed up the forests with a frightful crackling from their very roots
and had thoroughly baked the earth with fire, there would run from the boiling veins and
collect into the hollows of the ground, a stream of silver and gold as well as copper and lead.
And when they saw these afterwards cool into lumps and glitter on the earth with a brilliant gleam,
they would lift them up, attracted by the bright and polished luster, and they would see them
to be molded in a shape the same as the outline of the cavities in which each lay.
Then it would strike them that these might be melted by heat, and cast in any form or shape
soever, and might by hammering out be brought to tapering points of any degree of sharpness and
fineness so as to furnish them with tools, and enable them to cut the forests and hue timber
and plain smooth the planks, and also to drill and pierce and bore.
and they would set about these works just as much with silver and gold at first as with the overpowering strength of stout copper,
but in vain, since their force would fail and give way and not be able like copper to stand the severe strain.
At that time, copper was in higher esteem, and gold would lie neglected on account of its uselessness, with its dull, blunted edge.
Now copper lies neglected, gold has mounted up to the highest place of honor.
Thus time as it goes round changes the seasons of things.
That which was in esteem falls at length into utter disrepute,
and then another thing mounts up and issues out of its degraded state,
and every day is more and more coveted,
and blossoms forth high in honor when discovered and is in marvelous repute with men.
And now, Memius, it is easy for you to find out by yourself in what way the nature of iron was discovered.
Arms of old were hands, nails, and teeth, and stones, and bows broken off from the forests,
and flame and fire, as soon as they had become known.
Afterwards, the force of iron and copper was discovered, and the use of copper was known before
that of iron, as its nature is easier to work, and it is found in greater quantity. With copper,
they would labor the soil of the earth, with copper stir up the billows of war, and deal about
wide gaping wounds, and seize cattle and lands. For everything defenseless and unarmed,
would readily yield to them with arms in hand. Then by slow steps the sword of iron gained ground,
and the make of the copper sickle became a byword, and with iron they began to plow through the earth's soil,
and the struggles of wavering war were rendered equal. And the custom of mounting in arms on the back of a horse
and guiding him with reins, and showing prowess with the right hand is older than that of tempting
the risks of war in a two-horsed chariot, and yoking a pair of horses is older than yoking four,
or mounting in arms-sithed chariots.
Next, the poigny taught the lukenkind with towered body,
hideous of aspect, with snake-like hand,
to endure the wounds of war and to disorder the mighty ranks of Mars.
Thus, sad discord begat one thing after another
to affright nations of men under arms,
and every day made some addition to the terrors of war.
They made trial of bulls, too, in the service of war.
of war, an essay to send savage boars against the enemy, and some sent before them valorous lions
with armed trainers, and courageous keepers to guide them, and to hold them in chains. But in vain,
since, heated with promiscuous slaughter, they would disorder in their rage, the troops without
distinction, shaking all about the frightful crests upon their heads, and the horsemen were not
able to calm the breasts of the horses
scared by the roaring and
turned them with the bridle upon the enemy.
The lionesses
with a spring would throw their enraged
bodies on all sides
and would attack in the face those
who met them and others off
their guard they would tear down from behind.
Entwining round them
would bring them to the ground,
overpowered by the wound,
fastening on them with firm
bite and with hooked claws.
The bulls would toss
their own friends and trample them underfoot, and gore with their horns the flanks and
bellies of the horses underneath, and turn up the earth with threatening front.
The boars, too, would rend their friends with powerful tusks in their rage, dying with their
blood, the weapons broken in them. Aye, dying with their blood the weapons broken in their own
bodies, and would put to promiscuous rout, horse and foot, for the tame beasts would try to
avoid by shying to the side the cruel push of the tusk, or would rear up and paw the winds, all in vain,
since you might see them tumble down with their tendons severed, and strew the ground with their heavy fall.
Those whom they believed before to have been sufficiently broken in at home, they would see
lashed themselves into fury in the heat of action from wounds and shouting, flight, panic,
and uproar, and they could not rally any portion of them. For all the,
the different kinds of wild beasts would fly all abroad, just as now the Lucan kind, when cruelly
mangled by the steel, fly often all abroad, after inflicting on their friends many cruel sufferings.
But men chose thus to act, not so much in any hope of victory, as from a wish to give the enemy
something to rue at the cost of their own lives, when they mistrusted their numbers and were in
want of arms. A garment tied on the body was in use before a dress of woven stuff.
Woven stuff comes after iron because iron is needed for weaving a web, and in no other way
can such finely polished things be made as headdles and spindles, shuttles, and ringing yarn beams,
and nature impelled men to work up the wool before womankind. For the male sex in general,
far excels the other in skill and is much more ingenious,
until the rugged countrymen so upbraided them with it
that they were glad to give it over into the hands of the women
and take their share in supporting hard toil,
and in such hard work, hardened body in hands.
But nature, parent of things,
was herself the first model of sewing,
and first gave rise to grafting,
since berries and acorns dropping from the trees would put forth in due season swarms of young shoots underneath,
and hence also came the fashion of inserting grafts in their stocks and planting in the ground young saplings over the fields.
Next, they would try another and yet another kind of tillage for their loved piece of land,
and would see the earth better the wild fruits through genial fostering and kindly cultivation,
and they would force the forests to recede every day higher and higher up the hillside,
and yield the ground below to tilth, in order to have on the uplands and plains,
meadows, tanks, runnels, cornfields, and glad vineyards,
and allow a gray-green strip of olives to run between and mark the divisions,
spreading itself over hillocks and valleys and plains,
just as you now see richly dight with varied beauty,
all the ground which they lay out and plant with rows of sweet fruit trees and enclose all round
with plantations of other goodly trees. But imitating with the mouth, the clear notes of birds,
was in use long before men were able to sing in tune smooth running verses and give pleasure to the ear,
and the whistling of the zephyr through the hollows of reeds first taught peasants to blow into hollow stalks.
Then, step by step, they learned sweet plaintive,
diddies, which the pipe pours forth pressed by the fingers of the players, heard through pathless
woods and forests and lawns, through the unfrequented haunts of shepherds and abodes of unearthly calm.
These things would soothe and gratify their minds when sated with food, for then all things of
this kind are welcome. Often, therefore, stretched in groups on the soft grass beside a stream of
water, under the boughs of a high tree at no great cost, they would pleasantly refresh their bodies. Above all,
when the weather smiled, and the seasons of the year painted the green grass with flowers.
Then went round the jest, the tail, the peals of merry laughter, for the peasant muse was then in its glory.
Then frolic mirth would prompt to entwine head and shoulders with garlands plated with flowers and leaves,
and to advance in the dance out of step and move the limbs clumsily and with clumsy foot beat mother earth,
which would occasion smiles and peals of merry laughter, because all these things then from their
greater novelty and strangeness were in high repute, and the wakeful found a solace for want
of sleep in this, in drawing out a variety of notes and going through tunes and running over the reeds
with curving lip.
Whence, even at the present day,
watchmen observe these traditions
and have lately learned to keep the proper tune,
and yet for all this,
receive not a jot more of enjoyment,
then airs the rugged race of Sons of Earth received.
For that which we have in our hands,
if we have known before nothing pleasanter,
pleases above all,
and is thought to be the best,
and as a rule, the later discovery of something better
spoils the taste for the former things and changes the feelings in regard to all that has gone before.
Thus began distaste for the acorn. Thus were abandoned those sleeping places strewn with grass and enriched
with leaves. The dress too of wild beasts' skin fell into neglect, though I can fancy that in those
days it was found to arouse such jealousy as he who first wore it met his death by an ambuscade.
and after all it was torn in pieces among them and drenched in blood, was utterly destroyed, and could not be
turned to any use. In those times, therefore, skins, now gold and purple, plague men's lives with
cares and wear them out with war. And in this methinks the greater blame rests with us,
for cold would torture the naked sons of earth without their skins, but us it harms not in the least
to do without a robe of purple spangled with gold and large figures, if only we have a dress of the
people to protect us. Mankind, therefore, ever toils vainly into no purpose, and wastes life
and groundless cares, because sure enough, they have not learnt what is the true end of getting,
and up to what point genuine pleasure goes on increasing. This, by slow degrees, has carried life
out into the deep sea and stirred up from their lowest depths, the mighty billows of war.
But those watchful guardians, sun and moon, traversing with their light all round the great
revolving sphere of heaven, taught men that the seasons of the year came round, and that the
system was carried on after a fixed plan and fixed order. Already they would pass their life
fenced about with strong towers, and the land portioned out and marked.
off by boundaries, be tilled. The sea would be filled with ships scudding under sail.
Towns have auxiliaries and allies as stipulated by treaty, when poets began to consign the deeds of men
to verse, and letters had not been invented long before. For this reason, our age cannot look back
to what was gone before, save where reason points out any traces. Ships and tillage, walled,
laws, arms, roads, dress, and all such like things, all the prizes, all the elegancies to
of life without exception, poems, pictures, and the chiseling of fine wrought statues. All these things
practiced together with the acquired knowledge of the untiring mind, taught men by slow degrees
as they advanced on the way step by step. Thus time by degrees brings each several thing
forth before men's eyes, and reason raises it up into the borders of light, for things must be
brought to light one after the other, and in due order in the different arts, until these have
reached their highest point of development. End of Section 31. Section 32 of On the Nature of Things
by Titus Lucretius Carus. This Librovox recording is in the public domain read by Pamela Nagami.
Book Six, Part One
In Days of Yore, Athens of famous name first imparted corn-producing crops to suffering mankind,
and modeled life anew, and past laws, and first two bestowed sweet solaces of existence,
when she gave birth to a man who showed himself gifted with such a genius,
and poured forth all knowledge of old from his truth-telling mouth,
whose glory even now that he is dead, on account of his godlike discoveries confirmed by length of time,
is spread abroad among men and reaches high as heaven.
For when he saw that the things which their needs imperiously demand for subsistence
had all without exception been already provided for men,
and that life so far as was possible was placed on a sure footing,
that men were great in affluence of riches and honors and glory, and swelled with pride in the high
reputation of their children, and yet that none of them at home for all that had a heart the less disquieted,
and that this heart, in despite of the understanding, plagued life without any respite and was
constrained to rave with distressful complainings. He then perceived that the vessel itself did cause the
corruption, and that by its corruption, all the things that came into it, and were gathered from
abroad, however salutary, were spoilt within it. Partly because he saw it to be leaky and full of holes,
so that it could never by any means be filled full, partly because he perceived that it befouled,
so to say, with a nauseous flavor everything within it, which it had taken in, he therefore
cleansed men's breasts with truth-telling precepts, and fixed a limit to lust and fear,
and explained what was the chief good which we all strive to reach, and pointed out the road
along which, by a short cross-track, we might arrive at it in a straightforward course.
He showed, too, what evils existed in mortal affairs throughout, rising up and manifoldly flying
about by a natural, call it chance or force, because nature had so brought a
about, and from what gates you must sally out duly to encounter each, and he proved that mankind
mostly without cause arouse in their breast, the melancholy tumbling billows of cares.
For even as children are flurried and dread all things in the thick darkness, thus we in the
daylight fear at times things not a whit more to be dreaded than what children shudder at in the
dark and fancy sure to be. This terror, therefore, and darkness of
of mind must be dispelled, not by the rays of the sun and glittering shafts of day,
but by the aspect and law of nature. Wherefore, the more readily I will go on in my verses
to complete the web of my design. And since I have shown that the quarters of ether are mortal,
and that heaven is formed of a body that had a birth, and since, of all the things which go on
and must go on in it, I have unraveled most, hear further what remains to be told.
Since once for all I have willed to mount the illustrious chariot of the muses,
and ascending to heaven to explain the true law of winds and storms, which men foolishly lay to
the charge of the gods, telling how when they are angry they raise fierce tempests,
and when there is a lull in the fury of the winds, how that anger is appease.
How the omens which have been are again changed, when their fury has thus been appeased.
I have willed at the same time to explain all the other things which mortals observed go on
upon earth and in heaven, when often they are in anxious, suspense of mind,
and which abased their souls with fear of the gods, and weigh and press them down to earth,
because ignorance of the causes constrains them to submit things to the empire of the
gods, and to make over to them the kingdom. For they you have been rightly taught that the gods
lead a life without care, if nevertheless they wonder on what plan all things can be carried on,
above all in regard to those things which are seen overhead in the ethereal borders,
are born back again into their old religious scruples, and take upon themselves hard taskmasters,
whom they poor wretches believe to be almighty.
not knowing what can, what cannot be, in short, on what principle each thing has its powers defined
its deep-set boundary mark, and therefore they are led all the farther astray by blind reason.
Now unless you drive from your mind with loathing all these things, and banish far from you
all belief in things degrading to the gods and inconsistent with their peace, then often will the
holy deities of the gods, having their majesty lessened by you, do you hurt? Not that the supreme
power of the gods can be so outraged that in their wrath they shall resolve to exact sharp vengeance,
but because you will fancy to yourself that they, though they enjoy quiet and calm peace,
do roll great billows of wrath. Nor will you approach the sanctuaries of the gods with a calm breast,
nor will you be able with tranquil peace of mind to take in those idols which are carried from their
holy body into the minds of men as heralds of their divine form. And what kind of life follows after
this may be conceived? But in order that most voracious reason may drive it away from us,
though much has already gone forth from me, much however still remains and has to be embellished
in smooth polished verses. The law and aspect of heaven have to be grasped. Storms and bright lightnings,
what they do and from what cause they are born along. All this has to be sung, that you may not
mark out the heaven into quarters and be startled and distracted on seeing from which of them the
volent fire has come, or to which of the two halves it has betaken itself. In what way it is gained
an entrance within walled places, and how after lording it with tyrant sway it has gotten itself
out from these. Do thou deft muse Calliope, solace of men and joy of gods, point out the course
before me as I race to the white boundary line of the final goal, that under thy guidance I may
win the crown with signal applause. In the first place, the blue of heaven is shaken with thunder,
because the ethereal clouds clash together as they fly aloft when the winds combat from opposite quarters.
For no sound ever comes from a cloudless part of heaven, but wheresoever the clouds are gathered in a denser mass,
from that part with greater frequency comes a clap with a loud growl.
Again, clouds cannot be either of so dense a body as stones and timbers,
nor again so fine as mists and flying bodies of smoke,
for then they must either fall,
borne down by their dead weight, like stones,
or like smoke they would be unable to keep together
and hold within frozen snows and hail showers.
They also give forth a sound over the levels
of the wide-stretching upper world,
just as at times a canvas awning
stretched over large theatres makes a creaking noise
when it is tossed about among the poles and beams. And sometimes, too, rent by the boisterous gales,
it madly howls and closely imitates the rasping noise of pieces of paper. For this kind of noise, too,
you may observe in thunder. You may observe again the sound which is heard when the winds whirl about
with their blows and buff it through the air, either a hanging cloth or flying bits of paper.
for sometimes the clouds cannot meet front to front in direct collision, but must rather move from the
flank, and so with contrary motions, graze leisurely along each other's bodies.
Whence comes that dry sound which brushes the ears and is long drawn out, until they have
made their way out of their confined positions.
In this way also, all things appear to quake often from the shock of heavy thunder,
and the mighty walls of the far-stretching ether seem in an instant to have been riven and to have sprung asunder.
When a storm of violent wind has suddenly gathered and worked itself into the clouds,
and there shut in with its whirling eddy, ever more and more on all sides,
forces the cloud to become hollow with a thick surrounding crust of body.
Afterwards, when its force and impetuous onset have split it,
then the cloud thus rent gives forth a crash with a frightful hurtling noise.
And no wonder, when a small bladder filled with air often emits a hideous sound of suddenly burst.
It can also be explained how the winds when they blow through the clouds make noises.
We see branching and rough clouds often borne along in many ways.
Thus you are to know, when the blasts of the northwest wind blow through a dense forest,
the leaves give forth a rustling, and the boughs are crashing. Sometimes, too, the force of the strong
wind in rapid motion rends the cloud, breaking through it by an assault right in front. What a blast of wind
can do there is shown by facts plain to sense. When here on earth, where it is gentler,
it yet twists out tall trees and tears them up from their deepest roots. There are also waves among
the clouds, and they give a kind of roar as they break heavily, just as in deep rivers and on the
great sea when the surf breaks. Sometimes, too, when the burning force of thunder has fallen out
of one cloud into another, if happily the latter contains much moisture when it has taken the fire
into it, it drowns it at once with a loud noise. Just so, iron glowing hot from the fiery furnaces
sometimes hisses when we have plunged it quickly into cold water. Again, if the cloud which receives
the fire is drier, it is set on fire in an instant and burns with a loud noise, just as if a flame
should range over the laurel covered hills through a whirlwind and burn them up with its impetuous
assault. And there is not anything that burns in the crackling flame with a more startling sound than the
Delphic laurel of Phoebus. Then often too much crashing of ice and tumbling in of hail make a noise
in the great clouds on high, for when the wind packs them together into a confined space,
the mountains of storm clouds congealed and mixed with hail break up. It lightens, too, when the clouds
have struck out by their collision many seeds of fire, just as if a stone were to strike another
stone or a piece of iron, for then, too, light bursts out and fight, and fight
scatters about bright sparks. But we hear the thunder with our ears after the eyes see the
flash of lightning, because things always travel more slowly to the ears than those which excite
vision travel to the eyes. This you may perceive from the following instance as well.
When you see a man at a distance cutting with a double-edged axe, a large tree, you perceive the
stroke before the blow carries the sound to the ear. Thus we see lightning too before we hear the thunder,
which is discharged at the same time as the fire from the same cause, being born indeed from the
same collision. Also in the following manner, clouds die places with winged light, and the storm flashes
out with a rapid quivering movement. When the wind has made its way into a cloud,
and whirling about in it has, as I have shown above, made the cloud hollow with a dense crust.
It becomes hot by its own velocity. Thus you see all things thoroughly heated and fired by motion.
Nay, a leaden ball in whirling through a long course even melts. When therefore this wind,
now on fire, has rent the black cloud, it scatters abroad at once seeds of fire pressed out by force,
so to speak, and these produce the throbbing flashes of flame, then follows a sound which strikes
on the ears more slowly than the things which travel to our eyes strike on them. This you are to know
takes place when the clouds are dense, and at the same time piled up on high, one above the other,
in marvelous accumulation, that you be not led into error because you see how great their breadth
is below, rather than to how great a height they are piled up. Observe at a time when the winds shall
carry clouds like two mountains with a slanting course through the air, or when you shall see them
piled on the sides of great mountains one on top of the other, and pressing down from above
perfectly at rest, the winds being buried on all sides. You will then be able to observe their
great masses, and to see caverns as it were built of hanging rocks. And when a storm
has gathered and the winds have filled these, they chafe with a loud roaring, shut up in the clouds,
and bluster in their dens after the fashion of wild beasts. Now from this point, now from that.
The winds send their growlings through the clouds, and seeking a way out, whirl about and
roll together seeds of fire out of the clouds, and then gather many into a mass and make flame
rotate in the hollow furnaces within, until they have burst the cloud and shown forth.
in forked flashes. From this cause again, yon golden color of clear bright fire flies down with
velocity to the earth. The clouds must themselves have very many seeds of fire. For when they are
without any moisture, they are mostly of a brilliant flame color. Moreover, they must take in many from the
sun's light, so that with a good cause they are ruddy and shed forth fires. When therefore,
the wind has driven, thrust, squeezed together, and collected into one spot these clouds,
they press out and shed forth seeds which cause the colors of flame to flash out.
It also lightens when the clouds of heaven are rarefied as well.
For when the wind lightly unravels them and breaks them up as they move,
those seeds which produce the lightning must fall perforce,
and then it lightens without a hideous startling.
noise and without any uproar.
End of Section 32.
Section 33 of On the Nature of Things by Titus Lucretius Karris.
This Librovoc's recording is in the public domain, read by Pamela Nagami.
Book 6, Part 2.
Well, to proceed.
What kind of nature thunderbolts possess is shown by their strokes and the traces of their heat,
which have burnt themselves into things, and the marks which exhale the noxious vapors of sulfur.
All these are signs of fire, not of wind or rain. Again, they often set on fire even the roofs of houses,
and with swift flame rule resistless within the house. This fire, subtle above all fires,
nature you are to know, forms of minute and lightly moving bodies, and it is such as
nothing whatever can understand. The mighty thunderbolt passes through the walls of houses,
like a shout in voices, passes through stones, through brass, and in a moment of time,
melts brass and gold, and causes wine, too, in an instant to disappear, while the vessels
are untouched, because sure enough its heat on reaching it readily loosens and rarifies all
the earthen material of the vessel on every side, and forcing away within, lightly separates and
disperses the first beginnings of the wine. This the sun's heat would be unable to accomplish in an
age, though beating on it incessantly with its quivering heat. So much more nimble and overpowering is this
other force. And now in what way these are begotten, and formed with a force so resistless, as to be able
with their stroke to burst asunder towers, throw down houses, wrench away beams and rafters, and cast
down and burn up the monuments of men, to strike men dead, prostrate cattle far and near. By what
force they can do all this and the like, I will make clear, and will not longer detain you with mere
professions. Thunderbolts we must suppose to be begotten out of dense clouds piled up high,
for they are never sent forth at all when the sky is clear, or when the clouds are of slight
density. That this is so beyond all question is proved by facts evident to sense.
Clouds at such times form so dense a mass over the whole sky that we might imagine all its
darkness had abandoned Acheron throughout and filled up the great vaults of heaven.
In such numbers, gathering up out of the frightful night of storm clouds, do faces of black horror
hang over us on high? What time the storm begins to forge its thunder.
bolts. Very often again a black storm cloud two out at sea, like a stream of pitch sent down from
heaven, falls in such wise upon the waters, heavily charged with darkness afar off, and draws down a
black tempest big with lightnings and storms, itself so fraught above all the rest with fires and winds
that even on land men shudder and seek shelter. Thus then we must suppose that the storm above our head
reaches high up, for the clouds would never bury the earth in such thick darkness unless they were built up high,
heap upon heap, the sunlight totally disappearing. Nor could the clouds, when they descend,
drown it with so much rain as to make rivers overflow and put fields under water, if they were not piled
high up in the sky. In this case, then, all things are filled with winds and fire, therefore
thunderings and lightnings go on all about. For I have shown above that hollow clouds have very
many seeds of heat, and they must also take many in from the sun's rays and their heat.
On this account, when the same wind, which happens to collect them into any one place,
has forced out many seeds of heat and has mixed itself up with that fire.
Then the eddy of wind forces away in and whirls about in the straightened room
and points the thunderbolt in the fiery furnaces within,
for it is kindled in two ways at once.
It is heated by its own velocity and from the contact of fire.
After that, when the force of the wind has been thoroughly heated
and the impetuous power of the fire has entered in.
Then the thunderbolt fully forged, as it were, suddenly rends the cloud,
and the heat put in motion is carried on traversing all places with flashing lights.
Close upon it falls so heavy a clap that it seems to crush down from above the quarters of
heaven which have all at once sprung asunder.
Then a trembling violently seizes the earth, and rumblings run through high heaven,
for the whole body of the storm, then without exception, quakes with the shock and loud
roarings are aroused. After this shock follows so heavy and copious a rain that the whole ether
seems to be turning into rain, and then to be tumbling down and returning to a deluge. So great a flood
of it is discharged by the bursting of the cloud and the storm of wind when the sound flies forth
from the burning stroke. At times, too, the force of the wind set in motion from without,
falls on a cloud hot with a fully forged thunderbolt, and when it has burst it, forthwith there falls down
yon fiery eddying whirl, which in our native speech we call a thunderbolt. The same takes place
on every other side towards which the force in question has borne down. Sometimes, too, the power of the
wind, though discharged without fire, yet catches fire in the course of its long travel,
and while it is passing on, it loses on the way some large bodies which cannot like the rest
get through the air, and gathers together out of the air itself, and carries along with it
other bodies of very small size which mix with it and produce fire by their flight.
Very much in the same way as a leaden ball becomes hot during its course when it loses many
bodies of cold and has taken up fire in the air. Sometimes, too, the force of the blow itself strikes
out fire when the force of wind discharged in a cold state without fire has struck, because sure enough,
when it has smitten with a powerful stroke, the elements of heat are able to stream together
out of the wind itself, and at the same time out of the thing which then encounters the stroke.
Thus, when we strike a stone with iron, fire flies out, and nonetheless, because the force of the iron
is cold, do its seeds of fiery brightness meet together upon the stroke. Therefore, in the same way,
too, a thing ought to be set on fire by the thunderbolt if it has happened to be in a state
suited to receive and susceptible of the flames. At the same time, the might of the wind cannot
lightly be thought to be absolutely and decidedly cold, seeing that it is discharged with such
force from above. But if it is not already set on fire during its course, it yet arrives in a warm
state with heat mixed up in it. But the velocity of thunderbolts is great and their stroke powerful,
and they run through their course with a rapid descent, because their force, when set in motion,
first in all cases collects itself in the clouds and gathers itself up for a great effort at starting.
Then when the cloud is no longer able to hold the increased moving power,
their force is pressed out and therefore flies with a marvelous moving power,
like to that with which missiles are carried when discharged from powerful engines.
Then, too, the thunderbolt consists of small and smooth elements,
and such a nature it is not easy for anything to with it.
stand, for it flies between and passes in through the porous passages. Therefore, it is not checked and
delayed by many collisions, and for this reason it glides and flies on with a swift moving power.
Next, all weights without exception naturally pressing downward, when to this a blow is added.
The velocity is doubled and yon moving power becomes so intense that the thunderbolt
dashes aside more impetuously and swiftly whatever gets in its way and tries to hinder it and pursue its journey.
Then, too, as it advances with a long-continued moving power, it must again and again receive new
velocity, whichever increases as it goes on, and augments its powerful might, and gives vigor to its
strokes, for it forces all the seeds of the thunder to be borne right onward to one spot, so to speak,
throwing them all together as on they roll into that single line.
Perhaps, too, as it goes on, it attracts certain bodies out of the air itself,
and these by their blows kindle apace its velocity.
It passes two through things without injuring them, and leaves many things quite whole
after it has gone through, because the clear bright fire flies through by the pores.
And it breaks to pieces many things, when the first bodies of the thunderbolt have fallen
exactly on the first bodies of these things, at the point where they are intertwined and held
together. Again, it easily melts brass and fuses gold in an instant, because its force is
formed of bodies minutely small and of smooth elements which easily make their way in, and
when they are in, in a moment, break up all the knots and untie the bonds of union.
And more especially in autumn, the mansion of heaven studded with glittering stars,
and the whole earth are shaken on all sides, and also when the flowery season of spring
discloses itself. For during the cold fires are wanting, and winds fail during the heat,
and the clouds then are not of so dense a body. When, therefore, the seasons of heaven are
between the two extremes, the different causes of thunder and lightning all combine, for the very
cross-current of the year mixes up cold and heat, both of which a cloud needs forging thunderbolts,
so that there is great discord in things and disorder. The first part of heat and the last of cold
is the springtime, therefore unlike things must battle with one another, and be turbulent when
mixed together. And when the last heat mixed with the first cold rolls on its course,
a time which goes by the name of autumn, then two fierce winters are in conflict with summers.
Therefore these seasons are to be called the cross seas of the year, and it is not wonderful
that in that season, thunderbolts are most frequent, and troublous storms are stirred up in heaven,
since both sides then engage in the troublous medley of dubious war,
the one armed with flames, the other with winds and water commingled.
This is the way to see into the true nature of the Thunderbolt,
and to understand by what force it produces such effects,
and not the turning over the scrolls of Turing charms
and vainly searching for tokens of the hidden will of the gods
in order to know from what quarter the volent fire has come, or to which of the two halves it has
be taken itself, in what way it has gained an entrance within walled places, and how after
lording it with tyrant sway, it has gotten itself out of these. Also, what harm the thunderstroke
from heaven can do? But if Jupiter and other gods shake with an appalling crash the glittering
quarters of heaven, and hurl their fire whither each is so minded, why strike they not those whoever
they be, who have wrecked not of committing some abominable sin, and make them give forth the
flames of lightning from breast-pierced through and through, a sharp lesson to men?
And why, rather, is he whose conscience is burdened with no foul offense, innocent though he be,
wrapped and enveloped in the flames, in a moment caught up by the whirlwind and fire
of heaven? Why, too, aim they at solitary spots and spend their labor in vain? Or are they then
practicing their arms and strengthening their sinews? And why do they suffer the father's bolt to be
blunted on the earth? Why does he allow it himself and not spare it for his enemies? Why again,
when heaven is unclouded on all sides, does Jupiter never hurl a bolt on the earth or send abroad
his claps? Or does he so soon as clouds have spread under, then go down in person into them,
that from them he may aim the strokes of his bolt near at hand? Aye, and for what reason does he
hurl into the sea? Of what has he to impeach its waters and liquid mass and floating fields?
Again, if he wills us to avoid the thunderstroke, why fears he to let us see it discharged,
or, if he wills to crush us off guard with his fire,
why thunders he from that side, to enable us to shun it?
Why stirs he up beforehand, darkness and roarings and rumblings?
And how can you believe that he hurls at many points at the same time,
or would you venture to maintain that it never has happened
that more than one stroke was made at one time?
Nay, often and often it has happened, and must happen,
that even as it rains and showers fall in many different quarters,
so many thunderings go on at one time.
Once more, why does he dash down the holy sanctuaries of the gods
and his own gorgeous seats with the destroying thunderbolts
and break the fine wrought idols of the gods
and spoil his own images of their glory by an overbearing wound?
And why does he mostly aim at lofty spots?
and why do we see most traces of his fire on the mountaintops?
End of Section 33.
Section 34 of On the Nature of Things by Titus Lucretius Karras.
This Librovoc's recording is in the public domain read by Pamela Nagami, book six, part three.
To proceed, it is easy from these facts to understand in what way those things which the Greeks
from their nature have named Presteres come down from above into the sea, for sometimes a pillar,
so to speak, is let down from heaven and descends into the sea, and round about it the sturges boil,
stirred up by heavy blasts of winds, and all ships caught in that turmoil are dashed about and brought
into extreme danger. This takes place when at times the force of the wind put in motion,
cannot burst the cloud which it essays to burst, but weighs it down, so that it is like a pillar
let down from heaven into the sea. Yet gradually, just as if a thing were thrust down from above
and stretched out to the level of the waters by the fist and push of the arm, and when the force of
the wind has rent this cloud, it bursts out from it into the sea, and occasions a marvelous
boiling in the waters. For the whirling Eddie descends,
and brings down together with it yon cloud of limber body,
and as soon as it is forced it down, full-charged as it is to the levels of the sea,
the eddy in a moment plunges itself entire into the water,
and stirs up the whole sea into a prodigious noise and forces it to boil.
Sometimes, too, the eddy of wind wraps itself up in clouds,
and gathers out of the air seeds of cloud and imitates, in a sort,
the prester let down from heaven. When this prester has let itself down to the land and has burst,
it belches forth a whirlwind and stream of enormous violence, but it seldom takes place at all,
and as mountains cannot but obstructed on land, it is seen more frequently on the sea,
with its wide prospect and unobstructed horizon. Clouds are formed, when in this upper space of
heaven, many bodies flying about have in some one instant met together of a rougher sort,
such as are able, though they may get the very slightest holds of each other, catch together and
be held in union. These bodies first cause small clouds to form, and these next catch together and
collect into masses and increase by joining with each other and are carried on by the winds continually
until a fierce storm has gathered.
The nearer to the tops of a mountain in each case are to heaven,
the more constantly at this elevation they smoke
with the thick darkness of a swarthy cloud,
because as soon as clouds form,
before the eyes can see them, thin as they are,
the winds carry and bring them together to the highest summits of a mountain,
and then at last, when they have gathered in a greater mass,
being now dense, they are able to make themselves visible, and at the same time they are seen to rise up
from the very top of the mountain into the ether. The very fact of the case and our sensations
when we climb high mountains prove that the regions which stretch up on high are windy. Again, clothes
hung up on the shore when they drink in the clinging moisture prove that nature takes up many bodies
over the whole sea as well. This makes it still more plain, that many bodies may likewise rise up out of the
salt heaving sea to add to the bulk of clouds. For the two liquids are near akin in their nature.
Again we see mists and steam rise out of all rivers and at the same time from the earth as well,
and they, forced out like a breath from these parts, are then carried upwards and overcast heaven with their
darkness and make clouds on high as they gradually come together. For the heat of starry ether at the
same time presses down two on them, and by condensing as it were, weaves a web of clouds below the blue.
Sometimes there comes here into heaven from without those bodies which form clouds and the flying storm rack,
for I have shown that their number passes numbering, and that the sum of the deep is infinite,
I have proved with what velocity bodies fly, and how in a moment of time they are wont to pass
through space unspeakable. It is not, therefore, strange, that a tempest and darkness,
often in a short time, cover over with such great mountains of clouds, seas and lands, as they hang
down upon them overhead, since on all sides through all the cavities of ether, and as it were
through the vents of the great world around, the power of going out and coming in is accorded to the
elements. Now, Mark, and I will explain in what way the rainy moisture is formed in the clouds above,
and then is sent down and falls to the earth in the shape of rain. And first I will prove that many
seeds of water rise up together with the clouds themselves out of all things, and that both the clouds,
and the water which is in the clouds, thus increase together,
just as our body increases together with the blood, as well as the sweat,
and all the moisture which is in the frame.
The clouds likewise imbibe much sea water as well,
like hanging fleeces of wool, when the winds carry them over the great sea.
In like manner, moisture is taken up out of all rivers into the clouds,
and when the seeds of waters full, many in number,
in many ways have met in them, augmented from all sides,
then the close-packed clouds endeavor to discharge their moisture from two causes.
The force of the wind drives them together, and likewise the very abundance of the rain
clouds. When a greater mass than usual has been brought together, pushes down, presses from above,
and forces the rain to stream out. Again, when the clouds are also rarefied by the winds or
are dispersed, being smitten at the same time by the heat of the sun, they discharge a rainy moisture
and trickle down, just as wax over a hot fire melts away and turns fast into liquid.
But a violent rain follows when the clouds are violently pressed upon by both causes,
by their own accumulated weight, and by the impetuous assault of the wind.
and rains are wont to hold out and to last long when many seeds of waters are stirred to action
and clouds upon clouds and rack upon rack welling forth from all quarters round about are born along
and when the reeking earth streams moisture back again from its whole surface
when in such a case the sun has shone with his rays amid the murky tempest right opposite the dripping rain clouds
then the color of the rainbow shows itself among the black clouds.
As to the other things which grow by themselves and are formed by themselves,
as well as the things which are formed within the clouds,
all without exception, all snow, winds, hail, cold, hoarfrosts,
and the great force of ice, the great congealing power of waters
and the stop which everywhere curbs running rivers,
it is yet most easy to find out an apprehended mind how all these things take place and in what way they are formed
when you have fully understood the properties assigned to elements.
Now mark and learn what the law of earthquakes is, and first of all take for granted
that the earth below us as well as above is filled in many parts with windy caverns
and bears within its bosom many lakes and many chasms, cliffs and craggy rocks.
And you must suppose that many rivers hidden beneath the crust of the earth
roll on with violence waves and submerged stones,
for the very nature of the case requires it to be throughout like to itself.
With such things then attached and placed below,
the earthquakes above from the shock of great falling masses,
when underneath time has undermined vast caverns.
Whole mountains indeed fall in,
and in an instant from the mighty shock,
trembling spread themselves far and wide from that center.
And with good cause,
since buildings beside a road tremble throughout
when shaken by a wagon of not such very great weight,
and they rock no less where any sharp pebble on the road
jolts up the iron tires of the wheels on both sides. Sometimes, too, when an enormous mass of soil
through age rolls down from the land and to create an extensive pools of water, the earth,
rocks, and sways with the undulation of the water. Just as a vessel at times cannot rest
until the liquid within has ceased to sway about in unsteady undulations. Again, when the wind
gathering itself together in the hollow place is underground,
bears down on one point and pushing on presses with great violence the deep caverns.
The earth leans over on the side to which the headlong violence of the wind presses.
Then all buildings which are above ground, and ever the more, the more they tower up towards heaven,
lean over and bulge out, yielding in the same direction, and the timbers wrenched from their supports,
hang over ready to give way.
and yet men shrink from believing that a time of destruction and ruin awaits the nature of the great world,
though they see so great a mass of earth hang ready to fall. And if the winds did not abate their
blowing, no force could rain things in, or hold them up on their road to destruction, as it is,
because by turns they do abate and then increase in violence, and so to speak rally and return to the charge,
and then are defeated and retire.
For this reason, the earth oftener threatens to fall than really falls.
It leans over and then sways back again,
and after tumbling forward, recovers in equal poise its fixed position.
For this reason, the whole house rocks,
the top more than the middle, the middle more than the bottom,
the bottom in a very, very slight degree.
The same great quaking likewise arises from,
this cause, when on a sudden the wind and some enormous force of air gathering either from without or
within the earth, have flung themselves into the hollows of the earth, and there chaff at first with
much uproar among the great caverns, and are carried on with a whirling motion, and when
their force afterwards stirred and lashed into fury bursts abroad, and at the same time
cleaves the deep earth and opens up a great yawning chasm. This fell out in Syria and sidon and took place
at Egeum in the Peloponnese, two towns which an outbreak of wind of this sort and the ensuing earthquake
threw down. And many walled places besides fell down by great commotions on land, and many towns sank down
engulfed in the sea together with their burgers, and if they do not break out, still the impetuous fury
of the air and the fierce violence of the wind spread over the numerous passages of the earth
like a shivering fit and thereby cause it trembling. Just as cold when it has pierced into our
frames to the very marrow, sets them a shivering in spite of themselves, forcing them to shake and move.
men are therefore disturbed by a twofold terror throughout their cities.
They fear the roofs over their heads.
They dread less the nature of the earth in a moment
to break up her caverns underneath and rent asunder,
display her own wide-gaping maw,
and wildly tumbled together, seek to fill it with her own ruins.
Let them then fancy as much as they please
that heaven and earth shall be incorruptible
and consigned to an everlasting exemption from decay,
and yet sometimes the very present force of danger
applies on some side or other this goad of fear among others,
that the earth shall in an instant be withdrawn from under their feet
and carry down into the pit,
and that the sum of things shall utterly give way
and follow after and a jumbled wreck of world ensue.
First of all, they wonder that nature does not increase the bulk of the sea when there is so great a flow of water into it, when all rivers from all quarters fall into it.
Add to these passing rains and flying storms which bespatter every sea and moisten every land.
Add its own springs. Yet all these compared with the sum of the sea will be like an addition of bulk, hardly amounting to a single drop.
It is therefore the less wonderful that the great seed does not increase.
Again, the sun absorbs a great deal of his heat.
We see him with his burning rays, thoroughly dry clothes dripping with wet,
but we know sees to be many in number and to stretch over a wide surface.
Therefore, however small the portion of moisture which the sun draws off the surface from any one spot,
it will yet in so vast an expanse take largely from its water.
then again the winds too may withdraw a great deal of moisture as they sweep over the surface since we very often see the roads dried by the winds in a single night and the soft mud form into hard crusts
again i have shown that the clouds take off much moisture too imbibed from the great surface of the sea and scatter it about over the whole earth when it rains on land and the winds carry on the clouds carry on the clouds
Lastly, since the earth is of a porous body and is in contact with the sea, girding its shores
all round, just as water comes from the earth into the sea, in the same way it must ooze into the land
out of the salt sea. For the salt is strained off, and the matter of liquid streams back again to the
source, and all flows together to the riverheads, and then passes anew over the lands in a fresh
current, where a channel once scooped out has carried down the waters with liquid foot.
End of Section 34. Section 35 of On the Nature of Things by Titus Lucretius Karras.
This Librovox recording is in the public domain, read by Pamela Nagami.
Book 6, Part 4. And now I will explain why it is that fires breathe forth at times through the gorges
of Mount Etna with such hurricane-like fury.
For with the destroying force of no ordinary kind,
the flame storm gathered itself up
and lording it over the lands of the Sicilians,
drew on itself the gaze of neighboring nations.
When seeing all the quarters of heaven's smoke and sparkle,
men were filled in heart with awe-struck apprehension,
not knowing what strange change nature was travailing to work.
In these matters, you must look far and deep and make a wide survey in all directions
in order to bear in mind that the sum of things is unfathomable,
and to perceive how very small, how inconceivably minute a fraction of the whole sum one heaven is,
not so large a fraction of it as one man is of the whole earth.
If you should clearly comprehend, clearly see this point well put,
you would cease to wonder at many things.
Does anyone among us wonder if he has gotten into his frame of fever that has broken out with burning heat
or into his body the pains of any other disease?
The foot suddenly swells.
Sharp pain often seizes the teeth or else attacks the eyes.
The holy fire breaks out and creeping over the body,
burns whatever part it has seized upon, and spreads over the frame,
because sure enough there are seeds of many things,
and this heaven and earth bring to us evil enough
to allow of a measureless amount of disease springing up.
In this way, then, we must suppose that all things are supplied
out of the infinite to the whole heaven and earth
in quantity sufficient, to allow the earth in a moment to be shaken and stirred,
and a rapid hurricane to scour over sea and land,
the fire of Etna to overflow, the heaven to be in flames. For that too is seen, and the heavenly
quarters are on fire, and rainstorms gather in a heavier mass, when the seeds of water have
happily come together for such an end. Aye, but the stormy rage of the conflagration is too, too
gigantic. Yes, and so any river you like is greatest to him who has never before seen any greater.
And thus a tree, and a man seemed gigantic,
and in the case of all things, of all kinds the greatest a man has seen,
he fancies to be gigantic,
though yet all things with heaven and earth and sea included
are nothing to the whole sum of the universal sum.
And now at last I will explain in what ways yon flame roused to fury in a moment
blazes forth from the huge furnaces of Aetna.
And first, the nature of the whole mountain,
is hollow underneath, under propped throughout with caverns of basalt rocks. Furthermore, in all caves
are wind and air, for wind is produced when the air has been stirred and put in motion. When this air
has been thoroughly heated and raging about has imparted its heat to all the rocks round,
wherever it comes in contact with them and to the earth, and has struck out from them fire
burning with swift flames. It rises up and then forces itself out on high straight through the gorges,
and so carries its heat far and scatters far its ashes, and rolls on smoke of a thick, pitchy blackness,
and flings out at the same time stones of prodigious weight, leaving no doubt that this is the stormy force of air.
Again the sea, to a great extent, breaks its waves and sucks back its surf at the roots of that mountain,
caverns reach from this sea as far as the deep gorges of the mountains below.
Through these you must admit that air mixed up with water passes,
and the nature of the case compels this air to enter in from that open sea
and pass right within, and then go out in blasts,
and so lift up flame and throw out stones and raise clouds of sand.
For on the summit are craters, as they name them in their own language,
what we call gorges and mouths.
There are things, too, not a few for which it is not sufficient to assign one cause.
You must give several, one of which at the same time is the real cause.
For instance, should you see the lifeless body of a man lying at some distance,
it would be natural to mention all the different causes of death
in order that the one real cause of that man's death be mentioned among them.
Thus you may be able to prove that he has not died by steel or cold or from disease or happily from poison,
yet we know that it is something of this kind which has befallen him, and so in many other cases we may make the same remark.
The Nile rises every summer and overflows the plains, that one-sole-river throughout the whole land of Egypt.
It waters Egypt, often in the middle of the hot season, either because,
in summer, there are north winds opposite its mouths, which at that time of year go by the name
of Etesian winds. Blowing up the river, they retard it, and driving the waters backwards, fill its
channel full and force the river to stand still. For beyond a doubt, these blasts which start
from the icy constellations of the pole are carried right up the stream. That river comes from
the south out of the heat-fraught country, rising far up from the central region of day among
races of men black in their sun-baked complexion. It is quite possible, too, that the great
accumulation of sand may bar up the mouths against the opposing waves when the sea stirred up by
the winds throws up the sand within the channel, whereby the outlet of the river is rendered
less free, and the current of the waters at the same time less rapid in its downward flow.
it may be also that the rains are more frequent at its source in that season because the etesian blasts of the north wind drive all the clouds together into those parts at that time
and you are to know when they have been driven on to the central region of day and have gathered together then the clouds jammed close together against the high mountains are massed together and violently compressed perhaps too it gets its increase high up from the low
lofty mountains of the Ethiopians, when the all-surveying sun with his thawing rays
constrains the white snows to descend into the plains. Now, Mark, and I will make clear to you,
what kind of nature the several Avernean places and lakes possess. First of all, as to the name
of Vernian, by which they are called, it has been given to them from their real nature,
because they are noxious to all birds. For when they have arrived,
in flight just opposite those spots. They forget to row with their wings. They drop their sails and fall with
soft neck, outstretched headlong to the earth. If so be that the nature of the ground admit of that
or into the water, if so be that a lake of a verness spreads below. There is such a spot at Kumai,
where the mountains are charged with acrid sulfur and smoke enriched with hot springs.
such a spot there is also within the Athenian walls on the very summit of the citadel beside the
temple of a bountiful Tritonian palace, which croaking crows never come near on the wing. No, not when the
high altars smoke with offerings. So constantly they fly, not before the sharp wrath of palace,
for the sake of Jan Vigil kept, as the poets of the Greeks have sung. But the nature of the place
suffices by its own proper power. In Syria, too, as well a spot we are told is found to exist of
such a sort that as soon as ever, even four-footed beasts have entered in, its mere natural power
forces them to fall down heavily, just as if they were felled in a moment as sacrifices to the Manis gods.
Now all these things go on by natural law, and it is quite plain when spring the causes for
which they are produced, that the gates of Orcus be not happily believed to exist in such spots.
And next we imagine that the Manus gods from beneath do happily draw souls down from them to the
borders of Akharan, as wing-footed stags are supposed often by their scent to draw out from
their holes the savage serpent tribes. How widely opposed to true reason this is now learn,
for now I essay to tell of the real fact.
First of all I say, as I have often said before,
that in the earth are elements of things of every kind,
many which serve for food helpful to life,
and many whose property it is to cause diseases and hasten death.
And we have shown before that one thing is more adapted to one,
another thing to another living creature for the purposes of life,
because of their natures and their textures and their primary elements being all unlike the one to the other.
Many which are noxious pass through the ears, many make their way too through the nostrils,
dangerous and harsh when they come in contact, and not a few are to be shunned by the touch,
and not a few to be avoided by the sight, and others are nauseous in taste.
Again you may see how many things are for man of a virulently not.
and are nauseous and oppressive. To certain trees, for instance, has been given, so very
oppressive a shade, that they often cause headaches when a man has lain down under them extended
on the grass. There is a tree, too, on the great hills of Helicon, which has the property of
killing a man by the noisome scent of its flower. All these things you are to know rise up out
of the earth, because it contains many seeds of many things in many ways mixed up together,
and gives them out in a state of separation.
Again, when a newly extinguished nightlight encounters the nostrils with its acrid stench,
it sends to sleep then and there a man who from disease is subject to falling down and foaming
at the mouth.
A woman is put to sleep by oppressive castor and falls back in her seat, and her gay work
drops out of her soft hands, if she has smelt it at the time when she has her monthly discharges.
And many things besides, relax through all the frame, the fainting limbs, and shake the soul in its
seats within. Then, too, if you linger long in the hot baths, when you are somewhat full and
do bathe, how liable you are to tumble down in a fit while seated in the midst of the hot water.
And again, how readily do the oppressive power and fumes of charcoal make their way into the brain if we have not first taken water?
But when burning violently it has filled the chambers of a house, the fumes of the virulent substance act on the nerves like a murderous blow.
See you not too that even within the earth, sulfur is generated and asphalt forms incrustations of a noisome stench.
see you not when you are following up the veins of silver and gold and searching with the pick quite into the bowels of the earth
what stenches scoptenzula exhales from below then what mischief do gold mines exhale to what state do they reduce men's faces and what a complexion they produced
know you not by sight or hearsay how they commonly perish in a short time and how all vital power fails those whom the hard compulsions
of necessity confines in such an employment? All such exhalations, then the earth steams forth and
breathes out into the open air and light of heaven. Thus, too, the Avernian spots must send up some
power deadly to birds, which rises up from the earth into the air, so as to poison a certain
portion of the atmosphere, and in such a way that a bird, as soon as ever it is born on its wings
into it, is then attacked by the unseen poison and so palsied that it tumbles plumped down on the
spot where this exhalation has its course. And when it falls into it, then the same power of that
exhalation robs all its limbs of the remnants of life. First of all, it causes a sort of dizziness,
but afterwards when the birds have tumbled into the very springs of the poison, then life too has to be
vomited forth, because all round rises up large store of mischievous matter.
Sometimes, too, this power and exhalation of avernus dispels whatever air lies between the
birds and earth, so that almost a void is left there. And when the birds have arrived in their flight
just opposite this spot, at once the buoyant force of their pinions is crippled and rendered vain,
and all the sustaining efforts of their wings are lost on both sides.
So when they are unable to buoy themselves up and lean upon their wings,
nature, you know, compels them by their weight to tumble down to earth,
and lying stark through what is now almost a void,
they disperse their soul through all the openings of their body.
Again during summer, the water in wells becomes colder,
because the earth is rarefied by heat and rapidly sends out into the air
whatever seeds of heat it happens to have. The more then, the earth is drained of heat,
the colder becomes the water which is hidden in the earth. Again, when all the earth is
compressed by cold and contracts, and so to say congeals, then you are to know while it contracts,
it presses out into the wells whatever heat it contains itself. End of Section 35.
Section 36 of On the Nature of Things by Titus Lucretius Karras.
This Librovoc's recording is in the public domain, read by Pamela Nagami.
Book 6, Part 5
At the Fane of Hammond there is said to be a fountain which is cold in the daylight
and hot in the nighttime.
This fountain men marvel at exceedingly,
and suppose that it suddenly becomes hot by the influence of the fierce
sun below the earth, when night has covered the earth with awful darkness. But this is far,
far removed from true reason. Why, when the sun, though in contact with the uncovered body of the water,
has not been able to make it hot on its upper side, though his light above possesses such great
heat, how can he, below the earth which is of so dense a body, boil the water and glut it
with heat. Above all, when he can scarcely with his burning rays force his heat through the walls of
houses. What then is the cause? This, sure enough, the earth is more porous and warmer round the
fountain than the rest of the earth, and there are many seeds of fire near the body of water.
For this reason, when night has buried the earth in its dewy shadows, the earth at once becomes
quite cold and contracts. In this way, just as if it were squeezed by the hand, it forces out into the
fountain whatever seeds of fire it has. And these make the water hot to the touch and taste.
Next, when the sun has risen and with his rays has loosened the earth and has rarefied it as
his heat waxes stronger, the first beginnings of fire return back to their ancient seats,
and all the heat of the water withdraws into the earth.
For this reason, the fountain becomes cold in the daylight.
Again, the liquid of water is played upon by the sun's rays
and in the daytime is rarefied by its throbbing heat,
and therefore it gives up whatever seeds of fire it has,
just as it often parts with the frost which it holds in itself
and thaws the ice and loosens its bonds.
There is also a cold fountain of such a nature that tow, often when held over it, imbibes fire forthwith and emits flame.
A pitch-torch in like manner is lighted and shines among the waters in whatever direction it swims under the impulse of the winds.
Because sure enough, there are in the water very many seeds of heat, and from the earth itself at the bottom must rise up bodies of fire throughout the whole,
fountain, and at the same time pass abroad in exhalations, and go forth into the air. Not in such
numbers, however, that the fountain can become hot. For these reasons, a force compels those seeds
to burst out through the water and disperse abroad, and to unite when they have mounted up.
In the sea at Aradus is a fountain of this kind, which wells up with fresh water, and keeps off
the salt waters all round it, and in many other quarters the sea affords a seasonable help in need to
thirsting sailors, vomiting forth fresh waters amid the salt. In this way, then, those seeds may burst forth
through that fountain and well out, and when they have met together in the tow or cohere in the body
of the pine torch, they at once readily take fire, because the toe and pine wood contain in them
likewise many seeds of latent fire. See you not, too, that when you bring a newly extinguished
wick near night lamps, it catches light before it has touched the flame, and the same with the pine wood.
And many things beside, catch fire at some distance, touched merely by the heat, before the fire
in actual contact infects them. This, therefore, you must suppose to take place in that fountain as well.
Next in order, I will proceed to discuss by what law of nature it comes to pass that iron can be
attracted by that stone which the Greeks call the magnet from the name of its native place,
because it has its origin within the bounds of the country of the magnesiums.
This stone men wonder at, as it often produces a chain of rings hanging down from it.
Thus you may see sometimes five and more suspended in succession and tossing about in the
light airs, one always hanging down from one and attached to its lower side, and each in turn one
from the other experiencing the binding power of the stone. With such a continued current,
its force flies through all. In things of this kind, many points must be established before you can
assign the true law of the thing in question, and it must be approached by a very circuitous road,
wherefore all the more I call for an attentive ear and mind.
In the first place, from all things whatsoever which we see,
there must incessantly stream and be discharged and scattered abroad,
such bodies as strike the eyes and provoke vision.
Smells too incessantly stream from certain things,
as does cold from rivers, heat from the sun,
spray from the waves of the sea that enter into walls near the shore.
various sounds too cease not to stream through the air then a moist salt flavor often comes into the mouth when we are moving about beside the sea and when we look on at the mixing of a decoction of wormwood its bitterness affects us
in such a constant stream from all things the several qualities of things are carried and are transmitted in all directions round and no delay no respite in the flow is ever
granted, since we constantly have feeling and may at any time see, smell, or hear the sound of
anything. And now I will state once again how rare a body all things have, a question made clear
in the first part of my poem also, although the knowledge of this is of importance in regard to many
things, above all, in regard to this very question which I am coming to discuss, at the very outset,
It is necessary to establish that nothing comes under sense save body mixed with void.
For instance, in caves, rocks overhead sweat with moisture and trickle down in oozing drops.
Sweat too oozes out from our whole body.
The beard grows and hairs all over our limbs and frame.
Food is distributed through all the veins, gives increase and nourishment to the very extremities and nails.
we feel too cold and heat pass through brass we feel them pass through gold and silver when we hold full cups again voices fly through the stone partitions of houses smell passes through and cold
and the heat of fire which is wont, I, to pierce even the strength of iron, where the Gaulish
queer ass girds the body round. And when a storm has gathered in earth and heaven,
and when along with it the influence of disease makes its way in from without, they both
withdraw respectively to heaven and earth, and their work their wills, since there is nothing
at all that is not of a rare texture of body. Furthermore, all bodies whatever, which are discharged from
things, are not qualified to excite the same sensations, nor are adapted for all things alike.
The sun, for instance, bakes and dries up the earth, but thaws ice, and forces the snows piled on
high hills to melt away beneath his rays. Wax again turns to liquid when placed within reach
of his heat. Fire also melts brass and fuses gold, but shrivels up and draws together hides and flesh.
The liquid of water after fire hardens steel, but softens hides and flesh hardened by heat.
The wild olive delights the bearded she-goats, as much as if the flavor it yielded were of ambrosia
and steeped in nectar. But nothing that puts forth leaf is more bitter to man than this
food. Again a swine as chews marjoram oil and dreads all perfumes, for they are rank
poison to bristly swine, though they are found at times to give us, as it were, fresh life.
But on the other hand, though Meyer is to us the nastiest filth, it is found to be so welcome to
swine that they wallow in it all over with a craving not to be satisfied.
There is still one point left, which it seems proper to mention before I come to speak of the matter in hand.
Since many pores are assigned to various things, they must possess natures differing the one from the other,
and must have each of its own nature, its own direction.
Thus there are in living creatures various senses, each of which takes into it in its own peculiar way,
its own special object.
For we see that sounds pass into one thing,
taste from different flavors into another thing,
smells into another.
Again, one thing is seen to stream through the stones
and another thing to pass through woods,
another through gold,
and another still to go out through silver and brass.
For form is seen to stream through this passage,
heat through that,
and one thing is seen to pass through by the same way more quickly than other things.
The nature of the passages you are to know compels it so to be,
varying in manifold wise as we have shown a little above,
owing to the unlike nature and textures of things.
Therefore, now that these points have all been established
and arranged for us as premises ready to our hand,
for what remains, the law will easily be explained out of them,
and the whole cause be laid open which attracts the strength of iron.
First of all, there must stream from this stone very many seeds or a current, if you will,
which dispels with blows all the air which lies between the stone and iron.
When this space is emptied and much room left void between,
forthwith the first beginnings of iron fall headlong forward into the void in one mass,
and in consequence the ring itself follows and then goes,
on with its whole body. And nothing has its primal elements more intricately entangled or coheres in
closer connection than the nature of stubborn iron and its coldness that makes you shiver.
Therefore, what I say is the less strange, that from among such elements as these, bodies cannot
gather in large numbers out of the iron and be carried into the void without the whole ring following.
This it does do, and follows on until it is reached the stone and fastened on it with unseen bonds of connection.
The same thing takes place in all directions on whatever side a void is formed, whether a thwart or from above,
the first bodies next it are at once carried on into the void, for they are set in motion by blows from another source
and cannot by their own free act rise up into the air.
Moreover, to render it more feasible, this thing also is helped on by external aid and motion.
As soon as the air in front of the ring has been made rarer and the space more empty and void,
it follows at once that all the air which lies behind carries and pushes it on as it were at its back.
For the air which lies around them always beats on things, but at such a time as this,
it is able to push on the iron, because on one side a space,
is void and receives the iron into it. This air of which I am speaking to you makes its way with
much subtlety through the frequent pores of the iron to its minute parts, and then thrusts and
pushes it on as the wind, a ship, and it sails. Again, all things must have air in their
body since they are of a rare body and air surrounds and is in contact with all things.
This air, therefore, which is in the inmost recesses of the iron, is ever stirred in restless motion,
and therefore beats the ring without a doubt and stirs it within, you know.
The ring is carried in the direction in which it has once plunged forward
and into the void part toward which it made its start.
Sometimes, too, it happens, that the nature of iron is repelled from this stone,
being in the habit of flying from and following it in turns.
I have seen Samothration iron rings even jump up,
and at the same time filings of iron rave within brass basins,
when this magnet stone has been placed under.
Such a strong desire the iron seems to have to fly from the stone.
So great a disturbance is raised by the interposition of the brass,
because sure enough, when the current of the brass has first seized,
on and taken possession of the open passages of the iron, the current of the stone comes after,
and finds all things full in the iron, and has no opening to swim through as before.
It is forced, therefore, to dash against and beat with its wave the iron texture,
by which means it repels from it, and sets in motion through the brass that which without the
brass, it often draws to itself. And forbear, herein, to wonder that the current from this stone
is not able to set in motion other things as well as iron. Some of these stand still by the power of
their own weight, for instance, gold, and others because they are of so rare a body that the
current flies through them uninterrupted, cannot in any case be set in motion to which class
wood is found to belong. When, therefore, the nature of iron lying between the
two has received into it certain first bodies of brass, then do the magnet stones set it in motion
with their stream. End of Section 36. Section 37 of On the Nature of Things by Titus Lucretius
Karras. This Librovox recording is in the public domain read by Pamela Nagami.
Book 6, Part 6. And yet these cases are not so much at very very much.
with other things that I have only a scanty store of similar instances to relate of things
mutually fitted one for the other and for nothing else.
Stones, for instance, you see, are cemented by mortar alone.
Wood is united with wood so firmly by bull's glue only, that the veins of boards often
gape in cracks before the binding power of the glue can be brought to loosen its hold.
Vine-borne juices venture to mix with streams of water, though heavy pitch and light oil cannot.
Again the purple dye of the shellfish so unites with the body of wool alone, that it cannot, in any case, be severed,
not were you to take pains to undo what is done with Neptune's wave, not if the whole sea were willed to wash it out with all its waters.
then too is there not one thing only that fastens gold to gold and is not brass soldered to brass by tin and how many other cases of the kind might one find what then you have no need whatever of such long circuitous roads nor is it worth my while to spend so much pains on this but it is better briefly to comprise many things in few words
things whose textures have such a mutual correspondence that cavities fit solids, the cavities of the first,
the solids of the second, the cavities of the second, the solids of the first, form the closest union.
Again, some things may be fastened together and held in union with hook and eyes, as it were,
and this seems rather to be the case with this stone and iron.
And now I will explain what the law of diseases is.
and from what causes the force of disease may suddenly gather itself up
and bring death-dealing destruction on the race of man and the troops of brute beasts.
And first I have shown above that there are seeds of many things helpful to our life,
and on the other hand many must fly about conducing to disease and death.
When these by chance have happened to gather together and have disordered the atmosphere,
the air becomes distempered.
And all that force of disease and that pestilence come either from without, down through the atmosphere
in the shape of clouds and mists, or else do gather themselves up and rise out of the earth,
being beaten upon by unseasonable rains and suns. See you not, too, that all who come to a place
far away from country and home are affected by the strangeness of climate and water?
Because there are wide differences in such things. For what a difference?
may we suppose between the climates of the Britain and that of Egypt, where the pole of heaven slants askew,
and again between that and Pontus and that of goddess and so on, to the races of men black with sun-baked complexion.
Now, as we see these four climates under the four opposite winds and quarters of heaven,
all differing from each other, so also the complexions and faces of the men are seen to differ widely,
and diseases varying in kind are found to seize upon the different races.
There is the elephant disease which is generated beside the streams of Nile
in the midst of Egypt and nowhere else.
In Attica, the feet are attacked and the eyes in Achaean lands.
And so, different places are hurtful to different parts and members.
The variations of air occasion that.
Therefore, when an act is,
atmosphere which happens to put itself in motion unsuited to us, and a hurtful air begin to advance,
they creep slowly on in the shape of mist and cloud, and disorder everything in their line of
advance, and compel all to change, and when they have at length reached our atmosphere, they corrupt
it too, and make it like to themselves and unsuited to us.
This new destroying power and pestilence, therefore, all is.
at once either fall upon the waters, or else sink deep into the corn crops or other food of man
and provender of beast, or else their force remains suspended within the atmosphere, and when we
inhale from it mixed airs, we must absorb at the same time into our body those things as well.
In like manner pestilence often falls on kine also, and at this temper to on the silly sheep,
and it makes no difference whether we travel to places unfavorable to us and change the atmosphere
which wraps us round, or whether nature without our choice, brings to us a tainted atmosphere,
or something to the use of which we have not been accustomed, and which is able to attack us on its
first arrival. Such a form of disease and a death-fraught miasm, ersted within the borders of
sea crops, defiled the whole land with dead and dispeopled the streets and drained the town of
Burgers. Rising first and starting from the inmost corners of Egypt, after traversing much air and
many floating fields, the plague brooded at last over the whole people of Pandion, and then
they were handed over in troops to disease and death. First of all, they would have the head
seized with burning heat, and both eyes bloodshot with a glare diffused over.
The livid throat within would exude blood, and the passage of the voice be clogged and
choked with ulcers, and the mind's interpreter, the tongue, drip with gore, quite enfeebled
with sufferings, heavy in movement, rough to touch. Next, when the force of disease,
passing down the throat had filled the breast and had streamed together even into the
sad heart of the sufferers, then would all the barriers of life give way. The breath would pour out
of the mouth a noisome stench, even as the stench of rotting carcasses thrown out unburied.
And then the powers of the entire mind, the whole body would sink utterly, now on the very
threshold of death. And a bitter, bitter despondency was the constant attendant on insufferable
ills, and complaining mingled with moaning. An ever-recurring hiccup, often the night and day through,
forcing on continual spasms in sinews and limbs, would break men quite, for wearying those
for spent before. And yet in none could you perceive the skin on the surface of the body burn with any
great heat, but the body would rather offer to the hand a lukewarm sensation, and at the
the same time be red all over with ulcers burnt into it, so to speak, like into the holy fire as it spreads
over the frame. The inward parts of the men, however, would burn to the very bones. A flame would burn
within the stomach as within furnaces. Nothing was light and thin enough to apply to the relief
of the body of anyone, ever wind and cold alone. Many would plunge their limbs burning with
disease into the cool rivers, throwing their body naked into the water. Many tumbled head foremost
deep down into the wells, meeting the water straight with mouth wide agape. Parching thirst with the
craving not to be appeased, drenching their bodies would make an abundant draught no better than the
smallest drop. No respite was there of ill. Their bodies would lie quite spent. The healing art would
mutter low in voiceless fear, as again and again they rolled about, their eyeballs wide open,
burning with disease, never visited by sleep. And many symptoms of death besides would then be given.
The mind disordered in sorrow and fear, the clouded brow, the fierce delirious expression,
the ears too troubled and filled with ringings, the breathing quick or else strangely loud
and slow recurring, and the sweat glistening wet over the neck, the spittle in thin, small flakes
tinged with a saffron color, salt scarce forced up the rough throat by coughing.
The tendons of the hands ceased not to contract, the limbs to shiver, a coldness to mount with
slow, sure pace from the feet upwards. Then at their very last moments, they had nostrils pinched,
the tip of the nose sharp, eyes deep sunk, temples hollow, the skin cold and hard, on the grim mouth a grin,
the brow tense and swollen, and not long after their limbs would be stretched stiff in death.
About the eighth day of bright sunlight or else on the ninth return of his lamp, they would yield up life.
And if any of them at that time had shunned the doom of death, yet an after time,
consumption and death would await him from noisome ulcers and the black discharge of the bowels,
or else a quantity of purulent blood accompanied by headache would often pass out by the gorged nostrils.
Into these, the whole strength and substance of the man would stream.
Then, too, if anyone had escaped the acrid discharge of noisome blood,
the disease would yet pass into his sinews and joints and onward even into the sexual organs of the body,
and some from excessive dread of the gates of death would live bereaved of these parts by the knife,
and some, though without hands and feet would continue in life, and some would lose their eyes.
With such force had the fear of death come upon them, and some were seized with such utter loss of memory
that they did not know themselves, and though bodies lay in heaps above bodies unfuried on the ground,
yet would the race of birds and beasts either scour far away to escape the acrid stench or where anyone had tasted it drooped in near following death though hardly at all in those days would any bird appear or the sullen breeds of wild beasts quit the forests many would droop with disease and die above all faithful dogs would lie stretched in all the streets and yield up breath with a struggle
for the power of disease would wrench life from their frame.
Funerals, lonely, unattended, would be hurried on with emulous haste.
And no sure and general method of cure was found,
for that which had given to one man the power to inhale the vital air
and to gaze on the quarters of heaven
would be destructive to others and would bring on death.
But in such times this was what was deplorable
and above all eminently heart-rending.
When a man saw himself enmeshed by the disease, as though he were doomed to death, losing all spirit,
he would lie with sorrow-stricken heart, and with his thoughts turned on death, would surrender his life then and there.
Aye, for at no time did they cease to catch from one another the infection of the devouring plague,
like to woolly flocks and horned herds, and this above all heaped death on death.
whenever any refused to attend their own sick,
killing neglect soon after would punish them for their too great love of life and fear of death
by a foul and evil death, abandoned in turn, forlorn of help.
But they who had stayed by them would perish by infection,
and the labor which shame would then compel them to undergo,
and the sick man's accents of affection mingled with those of complaining.
this kind of death the most virtuous would meet,
and different bodies on different piles struggling
as they did to bury the multitude of their dead,
then spent with tears and grief they would go home,
and in great part they would take to their bed from sorrow,
and none could be found,
whom at so fearful a time neither disease nor death nor mourning assailed.
Then two, every shepherd and herdsman,
eye and sturdy guider of the bent plow sickened, and their bodies would lie huddled together in the corners of a hut,
delivered over to death by poverty and disease. Sometimes you might see lifeless bodies of parents above their lifeless children,
and then the reverse of this, children giving up life above their mothers and fathers,
and in no small measure that affliction streamed from the land into the town, brought thither by the sickening crowd of peasants,
plague-stricken from every side. They would fill all places in buildings, wherefore all the more
the heat would destroy them, and thus close-packed, death would pile them up in heaps.
Many bodies drawn forth by thirst and tumbled out along the street would lie extended by the
fountains of water, the breath of life cut off from their too great delight in water. And over all
the open places of the people and the streets, you might see many limbs drooping with their half-lifeless
body, foul with stench and covered with rags, perish away from filth of body with nothing but skin on their
bones, now nearly buried in noisome sores and dirt. All the holy sanctuaries of the gods, too,
death had filled with lifeless bodies, and all the temples of the heavenly powers in all
part stood burdened with carcasses, all which places the wardens had thronged with guests.
For now no longer the worship of the gods or their divinities were greatly regarded,
so overmastering was the present affliction. Nor did those rights of sepulter continue in force
in the city, with which that pious folk had always been wont to be buried, for the whole of it
was in dismay and confusion, and each man would sorrowfully bury.
as the present moment allowed, and the sudden pressure and poverty prompted to many frightful acts.
Thus, with a loud uproar, they would place their own kinsfolk upon the funeral piles of others
and apply torches, quarreling often with much bloodshed sooner than abandon the bodies.
The end.
End of Section 37.
Read by Pamela Nagami in Boston, Massachusetts,
April 2022. End of On the Nature of Things, the Monroe translation by Titus Lucretius Karris
