On the Nature of the Universe (Oxford World’s Classics) (48 page)

Something more lovely, pleases most of all,

And seems the best; till afterwards some new

And better thing is found which spoils and mars

What was before, and blunts the taste for it.

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So acorns fell from favour. So the beds

Of piled up leaves and herbage were abandoned.

So wild beasts’ skins for clothing were despised.

And yet this form of dress when first discovered

Was I think so much envied that the wearer

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Was murdered for it, and then the coat of skins

Was torn to pieces by men fighting for it

And stained with blood and lost, no use at all.

So skins in those days, gold and purple now,

Distract men’s lives and weary them with war.

And blame for this I think lies in ourselves.

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For lacking skins the naked sons of earth

Were tortured by the cold; but we no harm

Can suffer from a lack of purple robes

With stars of gold emblazoned, so we have

Some commonplace attire to cover us.

Therefore always in vain and uselessly

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Men labour, and waste their days in empty cares,

Because they fail to see what bounds are set

To getting, and what limits to true pleasure.

And gradually this evil discontent

Has carried life quite out to sea, and from

The depths has roused the mighty tides of war.

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But sun and moon the watchmen of the world

Circling with light the vast rotating vault

Have taught men well that seasons of the year

Revolve, and that in all things is established

A pattern and order fixed which governs them.

Men lived already fenced in with strong towers,

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And a land split up and parcelled out,

And ships with flying sails bedecked the sea,

And they had friends and allies bound by treaties,

And poets began to celebrate in verse

The mighty deeds of old; but letters then

Had been not long discovered. Therefore our age

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Cannot look back to see those early things

Except where reason may point out the traces.

Seafaring and farming, city walls, and laws

And arms, roads, clothing, and all such other things,

All the rewards, all the delights of life,

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Songs, pictures, statues curiously wrought,

All these they learnt by practice gradually

And by experiments of eager minds

As step by step they made their forward way.

So each thing in its turn by slow degrees

Time doth bring forward to the lives of men,

And reason lifts it to the light of day.

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For as one concept followed on another

Men saw it form and brighten in their minds

Till by their arts they scaled the highest peak.

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Athens of glorious name in former days

First brought corn-bearing crops to suffering mortals,

Brought them new life, established laws for them,

And Athens first sweet solace gave to life

When she brought forth a man of genius

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Who from his lips revealed the truth of things.

His glory, though he be dead, from ancient times

For his divine discoveries so far renowned,

Is even now exalted to the skies.

For when he saw that nearly all those things

Which need demands for living were enjoyed

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By mortal men, their life established safe

So far as might be, and when he saw them flourish

With all that wealth and praise and honour bring,

And glorying in the fair fame of their sons,

And saw no less that deep in every home

Were aching hearts and torments of the mind

All hapless, self-inflicted without pause,

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And sorrows breeding furious laments,

He understood then that the vessel itself

Produced the flaw, and by this flaw corrupted

All that came into it however lovely.

He saw that it must leak, being riddled with holes,

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And so could not by any means be filled.

He saw that, as it were with a noisome flavour,

It tainted everything that entered it.

Therefore with words of truth he purged men’s hearts

And set a limit to desire and fear.

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He showed the nature of that highest good

For which all mankind strives, and showed the way,

The strait and narrow path which leads to it

If we go forward with unswerving steps.

He showed the evil in the lives of men

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Flying far and wide, caused either by natural chance

Or else by force, as nature so ordained.

He showed the sally-ports within the walls

From which each different attack could best be met.

He proved that mankind mostly without cause

Stirred up sad waves of care within their breasts.

For we, like children frightened of the dark,

Are sometimes frightened in the light—of things

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No more to be feared than fears that in the dark

Distress a child, thinking they may come true.

Therefore this terror and darkness of the mind

Not by the sun’s rays, nor the bright shafts of day,

Must be dispersed, as is most necessary,

But by the face of nature and her laws.

So all the more I press on to complete

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The woven fabric of my argument.

I have shown that all the realms of the universe

Are mortal, and that the substance of the heavens

Had birth; and I have explained most of those things

That in the heavens occur and must occur.

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Please listen now to what remains to tell.

Since I have dared to mount the Muses’ glorious chariot,

I will now tell how storms of wind arise,

And then are calmed again, so that all things

Return to what they were, all fury spent;

And all those other things in earth and sky

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Which men observe, and tremble, wondering,

Their hearts laid low through fear of gods, oppressed,

Crushed down to earth, because their ignorance

Of causes makes them yield to power divine

Kingdom and Empire over all that is.

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For men who have been well taught about the gods

That they live free from care, may wonder still

By what design the world goes on, not least

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Those things they see in heaven above their heads;

And then to the old religions back they turn,

And cleave to cruel masters whom they think,

Unhappy fools, to be all-powerful,

Not knowing what can be and what cannot,

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Not knowing in a word how everything

Has finite power and deep-set boundary stone.

So all the more by blindness of the mind

They are driven astray, and wander in the dark.

Unless you spew these notions from your mind

And banish far away from you all thoughts

Unworthy of the gods and alien to their peace,

These holy powers, objects of your insults,

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Will often do you mischief. Not because

The majesty of the eternal gods

Can suffer injury, so that in wrath they seek

To wreak revenge. No. You yourself will picture

Those quiet beings in their untroubled peace

As tossed by violent waves of wrath, and be unable

To come before their shrines with quiet mind;

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And those sweet images which to men’s hearts

Are borne from holy bodies, messengers

Of form divine, these images no more

Will come to you, your heart at peace and tranquil.

What kind of life must follow is plain enough.

That such a life by truest reasoning

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May be banished far from us, though many words

I have uttered, much remains to tell, adorned

In polished verse. The order of the heavens

And visage of the sky must be my theme

And storm and lightning flash must be my song,

Both what they do and from what cause they spring;

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Lest senselessly you tremble at the sky

Divided into parts and speculate

Which one the flying fire came from or to which other

It went, and in what way it penetrated

Through walls of buildings, and having worked its will

Inside, made its way out again and so away.

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Calliope, most skilful of the Muses,

Solace of men, delight of gods, do you

Now go before me as the last lap I run

And point the way to the white winning post

Marked out for me, that led by you renown

May greet me as I win the victor’s crown.

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First, thunder shakes the blue expanse of sky

Because clouds flying high across the ether

Are dashed together by conflicting winds.

For no sound comes from a clear sky, but where

The clouds in close formation are deployed

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Often the mighty crash of thunder rolls.

Besides, the substance of the clouds can’t be

As thick as that of stones or logs, nor yet

As thin as that of mist or flying smoke.

For either they must fall, by their dead weight

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Dragged down, like stones, or like smoke they’ld be too thin

To contain freezing snow or showers of hail.

Above the levels of the world outspread

They make a noise like that of awnings stretched

Across the beams of some great theatre

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That flap and crack under the riotous winds

And split and break and make the crackling sound

Of tearing paper (for that kind of sound

Also you can detect in thunderstorms).

Or as when clothing hanging on a line

Or sheets of paper whirling in the wind

Are slapped and beaten by the sudden gusts.

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Sometimes it happens also that the clouds

Cannot meet front to front, but scrape each other

Along the sides, moving in opposite directions,

And then that dry sound comes which on the ears

Grates, long drawn out, until they make their exit

Out of close quarters and move free in the sky.

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Another way by which a thunderstorm

Has seemed to make the whole earth quake and tremble,

By which in sudden shock the mighty walls

Of the embracing firmament have seemed

To leap apart, is when a sudden gale

Of strong winds massed together has thrust its way

Into the clouds, and there enclosed in them

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With whirling motion everywhere has scooped out

An ever-growing hollow, with a shell

Of cloud all round compacted more and more;

Then when the force and impulse of the wind

Has weakened it, the cloud is torn, and splits,

Exploding with a terrifying crash.

No wonder: since a small bladder full of air

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Makes such a loud noise when it suddenly bursts.

Another way that clouds produce a noise

Is when winds blow through them. We often see

Clouds branching out in many ways and tattered