On the Nature of the Universe (Oxford World’s Classics) (6 page)

O mother of the Roman race, delight

Of men and gods, Venus most bountiful,

You who beneath the gliding signs of heaven

Fill with yourself the sea bedecked with ships

And earth great crop-bearer, since by your power

Creatures of every kind are brought to birth

And rising up behold the light of sun;

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From you, sweet goddess, you, and at your coming

The winds and clouds of heaven flee all away;

For you the earth well skilled puts forth sweet flowers;

For you the seas’ horizons smile, and sky,

All peaceful now, shines clear with light outpoured.

For soon as spring days show their lovely face,

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And west wind blows creative, fresh, and free

From winter’s grip, first birds of the air proclaim you,

Goddess divine, and herald your approach,

Pierced to the heart by your almighty power.

Next creatures of the wild and flocks and herds

Bound across joyful pastures, swim swift streams,

So captured by your charms they follow you,

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Their hearts’ desire, wherever you lead on.

And then through seas and mountains and tearing rivers

And leafy homes of birds and verdant plains,

Striking sweet love into the breasts of all

You make each in their hearts’ desire beget

After their kind their breed and progeny.

Since you and only you are nature’s guide

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And nothing to the glorious shores of light

Rises without you, nor grows sweet and lovely,

You I desire as partner in my verses

Which I try to fashion on the Nature of Things,

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For Memmius, my friend, whom you have willed

At all times to excel in every grace.

For his sake all the more endow my words,

Goddess divine, with everlasting charm.

Make in the meantime brutal acts of war

In every land and sea be lulled to sleep.

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For only you can succour humankind

With tranquil peace, since warfare’s savage works

Are Mars’ dominion, mighty lord of arms,

Who vanquished by the eternal wound of love

Throws himself oft upon your holy bosom

And pillowing his shapely neck, looks up

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And, gazing at you, feeds his hungry eyes,

Goddess, with love and lolling back his breath

Hangs on your lips. As he lies resting there

Upon your sacred body, come, embrace him

And from your lips pour out sweet blandishments,

Great lady, and for your Romans crave the calm of peace.

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Since neither I, in our country’s time of trouble,

Can bring a mind untroubled to my task,

Nor in such straits can Memmius’ famous line

Be found to fail our country in its need.

For perfect peace gods by their very nature

Must of necessity enjoy, and immortal life,

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Far separate, far removed from our affairs.

For free from every sorrow, every danger,

Strong in their own powers, needing naught from us,

They are not won by gifts nor touched by anger.

And now, good Memmius, receptive ears

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And keen intelligence detached from cares

I pray you bring to true philosophy;

Lest you should scorn and disregard my gifts

Set out for you with faithful diligence

Before their meaning has been understood.

The most high order of heaven and of the gods

I shall begin to explain to you, and disclose

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The primal elements of things from which

Nature creates, increases, nourishes

All things that are, and into which again

Nature dissolves them when their time has come.

These in the language of philosophy

It is our custom to describe as matter

Or generative bodies, or seeds of things,

Or call them primal atoms, since from them,

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Those first beginnings, everything is formed.

When human life lay foul for all to see

Upon the earth, crushed by the burden of religion,

Religion which from heaven’s firmament

Displayed its face, its ghastly countenance,

Lowering above mankind, the first who dared

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Raise mortal eyes against it, first to take

His stand against it, was a man of Greece.

He was not cowed by fables of the gods

Or thunderbolts or heaven’s threatening roar,

But they the more spurred on his ardent soul

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Yearning to be the first to break apart

The bolts of nature’s gates and throw them open.

Therefore his lively intellect prevailed

And forth he marched, advancing onwards far

Beyond the flaming ramparts of the world,

And voyaged in mind throughout infinity,

Whence he victorious back in triumph brings

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Report of what can be and what cannot

And in what manner each thing has a power

That’s limited, and deep-set boundary stone.

Wherefore religion in its turn is cast

Beneath the feet of men and trampled down,

And us his victory has made peers of heaven.

One thing I fear now is that you may think

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There’s something impious in philosophy

And that you are entering on a path of sin.

Not so. More often has religion itself

Given birth to deeds both impious and criminal:

As once at Aulis the leaders of the Greeks,

Lords of the host, patterns of chivalry,

The altar of the virgin goddess stained

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Most foully with the blood of Iphianassa.

The braiding band around her maiden locks

Dropped down in equal lengths on either cheek;

She saw her father by the altar stand

In sorrow, the priests beside him hiding knives,

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And all the people weeping when they saw her;

Then dumb with fear she sank down on her knees.

Nor could it help, poor girl, at such a time

That she first gave the king the name of father.

For men’s hands lifted her and led her on

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Pale, trembling, to the altar, not indeed

That in fulfilment of the ancient rite

The brilliant wedding hymns should be her escort,

But that a stainless victim foully stained,

At the very age of wedlock, sorrowing,

She should be slaughtered by a father’s blade,

So that a fleet might gain a favouring wind.

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So great the power religion had for evil.

You yourself, overcome at times by words

Of terror from the priests, will seek to abandon us.

How many dreams indeed they even now

Invent, to upset the principles of life

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And all your happiness confound with fear.

And rightly so. For if men could but see

A sure end to their woes, somehow they’ld find the strength

To defy the priests and all their dark religion.

But as it is, men have no way, no power

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To stand against them, since they needs must fear

In death a never-ending punishment.

They do not know the nature of the soul,

Whether it is born, or on the contrary

Makes its way into us at birth, and whether

It perishes with us, when death dissolves it,

Or goes to Hades’ glooms and desolate chasms,

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Or into other creatures finds its way

By power divine, as our own Ennius sang,

Who first brought down from lovely Helicon

A garland evergreen destined to win

Renown among the nations of Italy.

Though none the less in his immortal verse

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He has expounded that there does exist

A realm of Acheron, in which endure

Not souls of ours and bodies, but some kind

Of wraiths or phantoms, marvellously pale.

And thence the form of Homer, ever deathless,

Came forth, he tells, and pouring out salt tears

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Began to unfold the nature of the world.

Therefore we must lay down right principles

Concerning things celestial, what makes

The motions of the sun and moon, what force

Governs affairs on earth, and most of all

By keenest reasoning perceive whence comes

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