On the Nature of the Universe (Oxford World’s Classics) (36 page)

Phantoms of stags as though they saw them in flight

Until, the error spent, they come to their senses.

A litter of soft puppies, household pets,

Will shake themselves and jump up, just as if

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They saw the forms and faces of strangers coming in.

And the fiercer the breed, the wilder it is in its dreams.

And birds fly up and suddenly at night

With whirring wings disturb the gods’ dark groves,

If in their quiet sleep dreams come to them

Of hawks stooping to the fray in hot pursuit.

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And mighty men do mighty deeds in dreams.

Kings conquer, and are captured, and give battle,

And scream with the assassin’s dagger at their throats,

All without moving from the spot. Men fight

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And groan in pain and fill the air with cries

As if in the jaws of a panther or a lion.

And men in sleep things of great moment tell

And by their words themselves betray their guilt.

Many meet death. And many from high cliffs

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Feeling themselves falling are beside themselves

And start from sleep almost out of their minds, and hardly

Recover from the torment of their body.

A thirsty man oft sits beside a river

Or pleasant spring and nearly drinks it up.

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And often boys held fast in sleep believe

They are standing by a privy or chamber pot

Lifting their clothes, and pour out all the fluid

That has filtered through their body and drench the sheets

And splendid Babylonian coverlets.

And others, when the seed first penetrates

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The racing tides of youth, as time matures it,

Meet with a wandering image from some body

That tells of lovely face and rosy cheeks,

And this excites the parts swelling with seed,

And so, as if the act were being performed,

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They pour a great flood out and stain their clothes.

This seed I speak of is stirred up in us

As soon as manhood in our limbs grows strong.

And different things respond to different forces.

But only man from man draws human seed.

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As soon as seed comes out from its retreats,

It travels through every member of the body

And gathers in a fixed place in the loins

And arouses straight away the genital parts.

The parts swell with the seed, then comes desire

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To eject it where the dire craving pulls

And the body seeks that which has wounded the mind with love.

For men in battle fall towards a wound

And the blood spurts out in the direction of the blow

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And if he is close the foe is drenched in blood.

So therefore when the shafts of Venus strike,

Whether a boy with girlish limbs has thrown it

Or a woman from her whole body launches love,

He leans towards the blow, desires to unite,

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And cast the fluid from body into body;

His speechless yearning tells of bliss to come.

This is our Venus; hence the name of love;

Hence into the heart distilled the drop

Of Venus’ sweetness, and numbing heartache followed.

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For if what you love is absent, none the less

Its images are there, and the sweet name

Sounds in your ears. Ah, cursed images!

Flee them you must and all the food of love

Reject, and turn the mind away, and throw

The pent-up fluid into other bodies,

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And let it go, not with one single love

Straitjacketed, not storing in your heart

The certainty of endless cares and pain.

For feeding quickens the sore and strengthens it,

And day by day the madness grows and woe

Is heaped on woe, unless the first wounds by new blows

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Are deadened and while the wound’s still fresh you cure it

By wandering with Venus of the streets,

Or to some newer purpose turn your mind.

And by avoiding love you need not miss

The fruits that Venus offers, but instead

You may take the goods without the penalty.

For sure from this a purer pleasure comes

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To the healthy than to the lovesick. Yes, for in

The moment of possession lovers’ minds

Are all at sea storm-tossed, confused, and can’t

Decide what first to enjoy with eye or hand,

They hurt the body they love, so close they press,

They kiss so fiercely that teeth enter lips,

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All this because the pleasure is not pure,

And hidden stings there are which make them harm

Whatever it be from which the frenzy comes.

But in their loving Venus lightly lifts

The penalties she inflicts, and soothing pleasure

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Holds back the sting; for there is hope in it

That the same body whence the frenzy came

May have the power also to quench the fire—

And that does nature totally reject.

This is the only thing for which the more we have

The more the heart burns with fell desire for it.

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For food and drink are taken into the body

And since they can enter their appointed places

Easily the desire for water and bread is met.

But from a pretty face or rosy cheeks

Nothing comes into the body to enjoy

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But images, thin images, fond hopes,

For often they are scattered to the winds.

As when in dreams a thirsty man seeks water

And none is given to quench the fire within

But he seeks the image of the water all in vain

And standing in a river thirsts while he drinks,

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So in love Venus mocks lovers with images.

They cannot satisfy their eyes with looking,

Nor with hands wandering aimless o’er the body

Can they glean anything from tender limbs;

And when at last with body clasped to body

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They pluck the flower of youth, when body knows

The bliss to come and Venus is ready, poised

To sow the fields of love, they cling together

Mouth pressed to watering mouth and lips to lips

Drawing deep breaths as body calls to body.

In vain. For they can rub nothing off from it,

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Neither can body be absorbed in body.

For that sometimes they seem to want and strive for,

So ardently in Venus’ toils they cling

Their limbs with rapture liquefied and melted.

At last when all the pent-up lust is spent

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There comes a brief pause in the raging fever;

But then the fit returns, madness comes back,

They ask themselves what it is they are craving for,

They can find no device to cure their ill,

Bewildered and confused they waste away,

The hapless victims of an unseen wound.

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And add this also, they consume their strength,

The effort kills them; and their days are passed

Obeying another’s whim. Wealth vanishes

Turned into Babylonian coverlets.

Duties neglected, reputation falls.

For her, soft lovely slippers from Sicyon

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Shine on her feet, great emeralds set in gold

Glow with green light, the sea-blue dress well worn

In constant use absorbs the sweat of Venus.

The family’s wealth, hard earned, binds up her hair

Turned into a tiara or becomes

A gown of silk from Elis or from Ceos.

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Banquets with shining tables and rich fare,

Wines, dancers, ointments, garlands, ribbons—

All useless; since from the very fount of joy

Something bitter comes, and midst the flowers

Brings torment. Perchance a guilty conscience bites

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With rue for years of idleness and vice,

Perchance she’s spoken some doubtful word which sticks

And burns like fire in his yearning heart;

Or else he thinks she moves her eyes too much,

Too many glances at another man,

And in her face a hint of mockery.

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These evils can be found in love that prospers

And goes well; but in a love that’s starved and wretched

Though your eyes be closed they are there all plain to see,

Innumerable; so be on your guard,

Take my advice and keep your fancy free.

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