Book I

1Mother of Aeneas' race, pleasure¹ of men and gods,

2nourishing Venus, who beneath the gliding signs of heaven

3fill with life the ship-bearing sea, the grain-bearing lands,

4and throng them, since through you every kind of living thing

5is conceived and, risen, looks upon the light of the sun:

6you, goddess, you the winds flee, you the clouds of heaven flee,

7you and your coming; for you the artificer² earth sends up∗fol. 1r

8her sweet flowers, for you the levels of the sea laugh,

9and the sky, made calm, shines with light poured wide.

10For as soon as the face of the spring day stands revealed

11and the fertile breath of the west wind, unbarred, grows strong,

12first the birds of the air, goddess, announce you and your

13coming in, their hearts struck through by your power.

15Then wild beasts and herds go bounding over the glad pastures³

14and swim the rushing rivers: so, captured by your charm,

16each follows you eagerly wherever you go on to lead.

17Then through seas and mountains and sweeping rivers,

18through the leafy homes of birds and the greening plains,

19striking seductive love into the breasts of all,

20you make them eagerly propagate their generations, kind by kind.

21Since you alone steer the nature of things,

22and without you nothing rises into the shining shores of light⁴,

23and nothing comes to be glad, nothing lovely,

24I long for you as my partner in writing these verses

25which I attempt to set down on the nature of things

26for our son of the Memmii⁵, whom you, goddess, at every season

27have willed to excel, adorned with every gift.

28All the more, goddess, give my words a lasting charm.

29Bring it about that meanwhile the savage works of war

30over all seas and lands be lulled and lie at rest;

31for you alone can help mortals with tranquil peace,

32since Mars⁶, mighty in arms, who rules the savage works

33of war, often throws himself back into your lap,

34conquered by the eternal wound of love,

35and so, gazing up, his rounded neck laid back,

36feeds on love his hungry eyes, gaping at you, goddess,

37and the breath of him, reclining, hangs upon your lips.

38Goddess, as he lies back upon your holy body,

39pour yourself around and over him, and from your lips

40pour out sweet speech, asking calm peace, glorious one, for the Romans;

41for neither can we, in a bad time for our country, do this work

42with an untroubled mind, nor can the famous offspring of Memmius

43in such a pass be wanting to the common safety.

44For the whole nature of the gods must, of itself, by necessity⁷

45enjoy immortal life in utmost peace,

46removed from our affairs and separated far away;

47for free from every pain, free from dangers,

48strong in its own resources, needing nothing of ours,

49it is neither won by services nor touched by anger.

50For the rest, lend ears set free, and a keen mind

51withdrawn from cares, to true reasoning⁸,

52so that my gifts, laid out for you with faithful care,

53you do not, before they are understood, scorn and leave behind.

54For I shall begin to set out for you the highest order

55of heaven and the gods, and unfold the first-beginnings⁹ of things,

56from which nature creates all things, makes them grow, and feeds them,

57and into which, when they perish, that same nature dissolves them,

58which we, in giving our account, are used to calling matter

59and the generative bodies of things, and to name

60seeds of things, and to use for these same things the term

61first bodies, because from them, as first, all things are.

62When human life lay foully before the eyes,

63crushed on the earth beneath the weight of religion¹⁰,

64which showed its head from the regions of heaven,

65looming over mortals with horrible aspect,

66first a man of Greece¹¹ dared to lift mortal eyes

67against it, and first to take a stand against it;

68him neither the fame of gods nor thunderbolts nor heaven

69with its threatening growl held down; rather they goaded

70the keen courage of his mind the more, so that he longed

71to be first to break the tight-barred gates of nature.

72And so the living force of his mind prevailed, and far

73beyond the flaming walls of the world¹² he went out

74and traveled the whole immensity in thought and mind¹³,

75from where he brings back to us, a victor, what can come to be

76and what cannot, and how at last each thing's power is bounded,

77by what principle, and its boundary-stone set deep¹⁴.

78Therefore religion in its turn is thrown beneath our feet

79and trampled; the victory lifts us level with heaven.

80In these matters I fear this: that you might think

81you enter on the impious elements of reasoning and set foot

82on the road of crime. Rather, the opposite: more often it is

83religion that has borne the criminal and impious deeds.

84As at Aulis, where the altar of the Virgin of the Crossways¹⁵

85was foully defiled with the blood of Iphianassa

86by the chosen leaders of the Danaans, the first of men.

87As soon as the ribbon, bound about her maiden hair,

88streamed down in equal lengths on either cheek,

89and she saw her father standing sorrowful before the altar,

90and beside him the attendants hiding the knife,

91and the citizens shedding tears at the sight of her,

92mute with fear, her knees giving way, she sank to the ground.

93Nor could it help the poor girl at such a moment

94that she had been the first to give the king the name of father;

95for lifted by men's hands and trembling she was led

96to the altar, not so that, when the solemn rite was done,

97she might be escorted by the ringing wedding-hymn,

98but so that, pure, impurely¹⁶, at the very season of marriage,

99she might fall, a grieving victim, slaughtered by her father,

100that a happy and favorable departure be granted the fleet.

101So much evil could religion prompt.¹⁷

102You yourself, at any moment now, overcome by the prophets'

103terror-speaking words, will look to desert us.

104For indeed how many dreams they can even now invent for you,

105dreams that could overturn the reasonings of your life

106and trouble all your fortunes with fear!

107And with reason: for if men saw a sure end

108to their troubles, they would by some means find strength

109to stand against the religions and the threats of prophets.

110As it is, there is no way to stand against them, no power,

111since eternal punishments must be feared in death.

112For it is not known what the nature of the spirit¹⁸ is,

113whether it is born, or instead works its way into us at birth,

114and whether it perishes together with us, torn apart by death,

115or visits the darkness of Orcus¹⁹ and his vast pools,

116or by divine ordinance slips itself into other beasts,

117as our Ennius²⁰ sang, who first brought down

118from lovely Helicon a crown of unfading leaf

119to shine in fame through the Italian nations of men;

120and yet besides, that the precincts of Acheron exist

121Ennius sets forth, declaring it in eternal verses,

122where neither our spirits nor our bodies endure,

123but certain images²¹, pale in strange ways;

124from there, he recalls, the likeness of ever-flourishing Homer

125rose up before him and began to shed salt tears

126and to unfold in words the nature of things.

127Therefore, while we must give a good account of things

128above, by what principle the courses of sun and moon

129come about, and by what force each thing is carried on

130upon the earth, then above all with keen reasoning

131we must see of what the spirit and the nature of the mind consist,

132and what thing it is that meets us and terrifies our minds

133when we are awake but stricken with sickness, or buried in sleep,

134so that we seem to see and hear face to face

135those whose bones, after death, the earth embraces.

136Nor does it escape my mind that the obscure findings of the Greeks

137are hard to set in light in Latin verses,

138especially since much must be done with new words

139because of the poverty of the language²² and the newness of the things;

140but still your worth, and the hoped-for pleasure

141of sweet friendship, urge me to bear any labor,

142and lead me to keep watch through the calm nights,

143searching with what words and with what song at last

144I may spread clear lights before your mind

145by which you can see deep into hidden things.

146This terror of the mind, then, and this darkness²³

147must be scattered not by the sun's rays or the bright shafts of day

148but by the face and reasoning of nature.

149Its first principle will take its starting-point for us from here:

150that nothing is ever begotten from nothing by divine will²⁴.

151Indeed, fear so holds all mortals in its grip

152because they behold many things happening on earth and in the sky

153the causes of whose workings they can in no way see,

154and they suppose them to be done by divine power.

156For these reasons, when we have seen that nothing can be created²⁵

157from nothing, then we shall more rightly discern from there

158what we are seeking: both from what each thing can be created

155and in what manner all things come about without the labor of gods.

159For if things came to be from nothing, out of all things

160every kind could be born; nothing would need a seed.

161First, men could rise out of the sea, and out of the earth

162the scaly race, and birds could burst out of the sky;

163herds and other cattle, every kind of wild beast,

164born at random, would occupy the tilled land and the wild.

165Nor would the same fruits stay constant on the trees,

166but would change; all trees could bear all fruits.

167For where there were no generative bodies for each thing,

168how could there be a fixed mother for things?

169But as it is, since each thing is created from fixed seeds,

170it is born and comes forth into the shores of light

171from that place where the matter of each and its first bodies are;

172and for this reason all things cannot be begotten from all,

173because in fixed things there dwells a separate power.

174Further, why do we see the rose poured forth in spring, grain in the heat,

175vines when autumn urges them on,

176if not because, when fixed seeds of things at their own time

177have flowed together, whatever is created is disclosed

178while the seasons are at hand, and the living earth

179brings tender things safely forth into the shores of light?

180But if they came from nothing, they would spring up suddenly

181at uncertain intervals and in alien parts of the year,

182since there would be no first-beginnings that could be kept

183from generative union by an unfavorable season.

184Nor again, for things to grow, would there be need of time

185for the meeting of seed, if they could grow out of nothing;

186for little infants would suddenly become young men,

187and trees, risen from the earth, would leap up all at once.

188It is plain that none of this happens, since all things

189grow little by little, as is fitting, from fixed seed,

190and as they grow they keep their kind; so that you can know

191that each thing grows large and is nourished from its own matter.

192To this is added that without the year's fixed rains

193the earth could not send up its gladdening produce,

194nor again could the nature of living things, kept apart from food,

195propagate its kind and preserve its life;

196so that you should rather think that many bodies are common

197to many things, as we see elements²⁶ are to words,

198than that anything could exist without beginnings.

199Again, why could nature not produce men so huge

200that they could cross the sea on foot, wading through its shallows,

201and tear great mountains apart with their hands,

202and in living outlast many generations of the living,

203if not because fixed matter has been assigned to things

204for their begetting, from which it stands what can arise?

205Therefore it must be confessed that nothing can come from nothing,

206since things need seed, from which each, once created,

207can be brought forth into the tender breezes of the air.

208Finally, since we see that tilled places surpass

209the untilled, and yield better produce to our hands,

210there are, it is clear, first-beginnings of things in the earth

211which we, turning the fertile clods with the plowshare

212and working the soil of the earth, rouse to birth;

213but if there were none, you would see each thing, without our labor,

214come of its own accord to be much better.

215To this is added that nature dissolves each thing back

216into its own bodies, and does not destroy things into nothing.

217For if anything were mortal in all its parts,

218each thing would suddenly perish, snatched from our eyes;

219for there would be no need of any force that could bring about

220division among its parts and undo their bonds.

221As it is, since each thing is made of eternal seed,

222until a force has met it that can shatter things with a blow

223or pierce within through the voids²⁷ and dissolve them,

224nature does not allow the destruction of anything to be seen.

225Further, whatever things time removes through age,

226if it destroys them utterly, consuming all their matter,

227from where does Venus lead the race of living things, kind by kind,

228back into the light of life? Or, once led back, from where does the artificer earth

229nourish and increase them, kind by kind, providing food?

230From where do native springs and rivers from far outside

231keep the sea supplied? From where does the ether feed the stars?

232For all things that are of mortal body

233infinite time and the days gone by must have consumed.

234But if in that space, in that time gone by, there have been

235those things from which this sum of things is made up, renewed,

236they are surely endowed with an immortal nature.

237Therefore things cannot, any of them, return to nothing.

238Again, the same force and cause would destroy all things

239indiscriminately, unless eternal matter held them,

240more or less entangled in its bonds with itself;

241for a touch would surely be cause enough of death,

242since there would be nothing of eternal body whose

243fabric any force would have to unweave.

244But as it is, since the bonds of the beginnings with one another

245are unlike, and matter is eternal,

246things remain with body unharmed until a force

247meets them found keen enough for the texture of each.

248Therefore no thing returns to nothing, but all things

249by division return to the bodies of matter.

250Finally, the rains perish when father ether²⁸

251has flung them headlong into the lap of mother earth;

252but shining crops spring up, and branches grow green

253on the trees; the trees themselves grow and are weighed down with fruit.

254From this, in turn, our race and the race of wild beasts are fed,

255from this we see glad cities flower with children

256and leafy woods on every side sing with new birds,

257from this the cattle, weary and fat, through the glad pastures lay down

258their bodies, and the white milky liquid

259flows from the swollen udders; from this the new offspring

260on unsteady limbs frisk through the tender grass

261and play, their young minds made drunk with unmixed milk²⁹.

262Therefore none of the things that are seen perish utterly,

263since nature remakes one thing from another, and does not allow

264anything to be born unless helped by another's death.

265Come now: since I have taught that things cannot be created

266from nothing, nor, once born, be called back to nothing,

267yet lest perhaps you begin to distrust my words

268because the first-beginnings of things cannot be seen with the eyes,

269hear further of bodies which you yourself must

270confess are among things and yet cannot be seen.

271First, the roused force of the wind lashes the body of the sea³⁰

272and overturns huge ships and scatters the clouds,

273at times, running across the plains in a swift whirlwind,

274it strews them with great trees, and the mountaintops

275it harries with forest-breaking³¹ blasts: so with a fierce

276roar the sea rages, and storms with a threatening growl.

277Therefore winds, beyond doubt, are unseen bodies

278that sweep the sea, the lands, and finally the clouds of heaven,

279and harry them and snatch them up in a sudden whirlwind;

280nor do they flow or spread their havoc in any other way

281than when the soft nature of water is suddenly carried

282in an overflowing stream, swollen with abundant rains

283by a great downrush of water from high mountains,

284hurling together broken pieces of forests and whole trees,

285nor can strong bridges bear the sudden force

286of the oncoming water: so, turbid with great rain,

287the river runs against the piers with mighty strength,

288makes havoc with a great roar, and rolls beneath its waves

289great stones, and dashes down whatever stands against its flood.

290So therefore the blasts of wind too must be carried,

291which, when like a strong river they have leaned

292toward any quarter, drive things before them and dash them down

293with repeated onsets, at times in a twisting eddy

294seize them and carry them off in a swift, spinning whirlwind.

295Therefore, again and again, winds are unseen bodies,

296since in their deeds and ways they are found to rival

297great rivers, which are of visible body.

298Then again, we perceive the various odors of things

299and yet never see them coming to our nostrils,

300nor do we look upon hot heats, nor can we take in cold

301with our eyes, nor are we used to seeing voices;

302yet all these must consist of bodily

303nature, since they can strike upon the senses;

304for to touch and be touched no thing can, unless it is body.

305Again, clothes hung up on the wave-breaking shore

306grow damp, and the same, spread out in the sun, grow dry.

307But neither how the moisture of water settled in them

308has been seen, nor again how it fled before the heat.

309Therefore the moisture is dispersed into small parts

310which the eyes can in no way see.

311Indeed, as many years of the sun come round again,

312a ring on the finger grows thin beneath from wearing,

313the falling of the drip hollows a stone, the curved iron

314plowshare secretly wastes away in the fields,

315and the stone pavements of the roads we see already

316worn by the feet of the crowd; then, beside the gates, bronze³²

317statues show their right hands thinned

318by the touch of those who greet them, often, and of those passing by.

319These things, then, we see are diminished, since they are worn away.

320But what bodies depart from them at any given time

321envious nature has shut off from the power of sight.

322Lastly, whatever the passing days and nature add to things

323little by little, compelling them to grow in due measure,

324no sharpness of the eyes, however it strains, can observe;

325nor again, in whatever grows old with age and wasting,

326nor in rocks that overhang the sea, eaten through by the gnawing salt,

327could you discern what they lose at each moment.

328Therefore nature carries on her work through unseen bodies.

329And yet not all things are held packed tight on every side

330by the nature of body; for there is void³³ in things.

331To have learned this will be of use to you in many matters,

332and will not let you wander, doubting and always asking

333about the sum of things, and distrusting my words.

334Therefore there is place, untouchable, void and empty.

335For if there were not, by no means could things

336move at all; for what stands out as the office³⁴ of body,

337to obstruct and stand in the way, would at every moment be present

338in all things; and so nothing could go forward,

339since nothing would make a beginning of giving way.

340But as it is, through seas and lands and the heights of heaven,

341many things, in many ways, by varied principle, moving

342we see before our eyes, which, if there were no void,

343would not so much be robbed of their restless motion and lack it

344as never have been brought to birth at all by any means,

345since matter, packed tight on every side, would have lain at rest.

346Further, however solid things may be thought to be,

347you may yet see from this that they are of loose and porous body.

348In rocks and caves the liquid moisture of the waters

349seeps through, and all things weep with plentiful drops.

350Food spreads itself through the whole body of living things;

351trees grow and pour out their fruit in season,

352because from the deepest roots, into the whole tree,

353through trunks and through branches, all their food is spread.

354Voices pass through walls, and through the closed rooms of houses

355fly across; stiffening cold seeps through to the bones.

356And unless there were void spaces through which each of the bodies

357could pass, you would see this happen by no means at all.

358Finally, why do we see some things outweigh other things

359in weight, though they are no larger in shape?

360For if there is as much in a ball of wool as there is

361of body in lead, it is fitting that they weigh just as much,

362since it is the office of body to press all things downward,

363while the nature of void, on the contrary, stays without weight.

364Therefore what is just as large and yet is seen to be lighter

365plainly declares that there is more void in it;

366but the heavier, on the contrary, proclaims there is more body

367in it, and that it holds much less of the empty within.

368There is therefore, plainly, that which with keen reasoning

369we are seeking, mixed in with things: what we call void.

370In these matters, so that it may not lead you from the truth,

371I am compelled to forestall what certain men³⁵ invent.

372They say the waters give way to the scaly creatures as they thrust

373and open liquid paths, because the fish leave places behind them

374into which the yielding waves can flow together;

375so too, they say, other things can move among themselves

376and change their place, though all things are full.

377All this, of course, has been accepted on false reasoning.

378For where, in the end, will the scaly creatures be able to go forward

379unless the waters give them room? And again, where will the waves

380be able to withdraw, when the fish cannot go on?

381Therefore either all bodies must be deprived of motion,

382or we must say that void is mixed in with things,

383from which each thing may take its first start of moving.

384Lastly, if two broad bodies, after colliding,

385spring swiftly apart, then surely the air must take possession

386of all the void that comes to be between the bodies.

387That air, again, though it flows in with currents speeding round,

388still will not be able at one moment to fill the whole

389space; for it must occupy first one and then

390the next place, before the whole can be possessed.

391But if someone perhaps, when the bodies have sprung apart,

392thinks this happens because the air condenses itself,

393he is wrong; for then an emptiness comes to be that was not there before,

394and likewise an emptiness is filled that stood there before,

395nor can air be condensed in such a way,

396nor, if it could, could it, I think, without void

397draw itself into itself and gather its parts together.

398Therefore, however long you may delay with objections,

399you must still confess that there is void in things.

400And many more, besides, I could set before you, recounting

401arguments, to scrape together belief for my words.

402But for a keen mind these small tracks

403are enough, through which you yourself can come to know the rest.

404For as hounds very often, of a mountain-ranging beast,

405find out with their noses the resting places hidden in leaves,

406once they have set themselves on the sure tracks of its path,

407so you yourself, on your own, will be able to see one thing from another

408in such matters, and to work your way into all

409the unseen lurking places and drag the truth out of them.

410But if you are sluggish, or shrink back a little from the matter,

411this I can promise you plainly, Memmius:

412such generous draughts, drawn from great springs,

413will my sweet tongue pour out from my rich heart

414that I fear slow old age will first creep through

415our limbs and loosen in us the barriers of life

416before, in verses, on any single matter, the whole store

417of arguments has been sent through your ears.

418But now, to resume and weave to its end in words the work begun:

419all nature, then, as it is in itself, has been founded

420on two things; for there are bodies and there is void,

421in which these are set and through which they move this way and that.

422For that body exists by itself is declared by the sense

423common to all³⁶; and unless trust in this stands first and firm,

424there will be nothing to appeal to concerning hidden things

425by which we could confirm anything by reasoning of the mind.

426Then again, place and space, which we call void,

427if it did not exist, bodies could not be set anywhere

428at all, nor move in any direction this way and that;

429as I showed you above, a little while before.

430Further, there is nothing that you could say is, from all

431body disjoined, and set apart from the void,

432to be found as a third nature, as it were, in the count.

433For whatever will exist must itself be something,

434of bulk large or small, so long as it exists;

435and if it has touch, however light and slight,

436it will add to the count of body and join its sum;

437but if it is untouchable, unable on any side

438to stop anything passing through it on its way,

439then this, of course, will be the empty, which we call void.

440Again, whatever will exist by itself will either act

441or must itself be acted upon by other things acting,

442or be such that things can exist and be carried on in it.

443But nothing can act or be acted upon without body,

444nor again provide place except the void and empty.

445Therefore besides void and bodies no third nature

446by itself can be left in the number of things,

447neither one that falls at any time under our senses

448nor one that anyone can grasp by reasoning of the mind.

449For whatever things have a name, you will find them either conjoined³⁷

450to these two things, or you will see that they are their accidents.

451A conjoined property is that which can nowhere, without a deadly

452division, be disjoined and parted from the thing,

453as weight is to stones, heat to fire, wetness to water,

454touch to all bodies, untouchability to void.

455Slavery, on the other hand, poverty and riches,

456freedom, war, concord, and the other things at whose

457coming and going nature remains unharmed,

458these we are used, rightly, to calling accidents.

459Time³⁸ likewise does not exist by itself, but from things themselves

460our sense takes in what has been carried through in time gone by,

461then what thing is at hand, and what will follow after;

462nor must it be admitted that anyone senses time by itself,

463apart from the motion of things and their calm rest.

464Finally, when they say the abduction of Tyndareus' daughter³⁹

465and the conquest of the Trojan-born nations in war "are", we must take care

466that they do not force us to admit these things exist by themselves,

467since the generations of men whose accidents these were

468have been carried off already by an age gone past recall;

469for one thing will be said to be an accident of the lands⁴⁰, another

470of the regions themselves, whatever has been done.

471Finally, if there had been no matter of things,

472and no place and space, in which each thing is carried on,

473never would the fire, kindled by love for the beauty of Tyndareus' daughter,

474glowing beneath the Phrygian breast of Alexander,

475have lit the famous contests of savage war,

476nor would the wooden horse, unknown to the Trojans, have set Pergamum

477ablaze by its night-time delivery of the sons of the Greeks;

478so that you may see clearly that all deeds done, from the ground up,

479do not exist or have being by themselves as body does,

480nor are spoken of on the same principle as void,

481but rather that you may justly call them accidents

482of body and of place, in which each thing is carried on.

483Further, bodies are partly the first-beginnings of things,

484partly those that are formed from a union of beginnings⁴¹.

485But those that are the first-beginnings of things no force

486can quench; for it is by solid body that they prevail.

487And yet it seems hard to believe that anything

488among things can be found to be of solid body.

489For the thunderbolt of heaven passes through the walls of houses,

490as do shouting and voices; iron grows white-hot in fire,

491and rocks leap apart in fierce and seething heat;

492when the hardness of gold is shaken loose and dissolves in heat,

493then the ice of bronze⁴², conquered by flame, melts away;

494heat seeps through silver, and so does penetrating cold,

495since, gripping cups in hand as is the custom, we have felt both

496when the dew of water was poured in from above.

497To such a degree there seems to be nothing solid in things.

498But since true reasoning and the nature of things nonetheless

499compel us, attend, while in a few verses we make it plain

500that there are things which consist of solid and eternal body,

501which we teach are the seeds of things and their first-beginnings,

502from which the whole sum of things now stands created.

503To begin with, since the twofold nature of two things,

504far unlike each other, has been found to exist,

505of body and of place, in which each thing is carried on,

506each of necessity must exist by itself and pure.

507For wherever there is empty space, which we call void,

508there body is not; and further, wherever body

509holds its place, there empty void by no means exists.

510The first bodies, therefore, are solid and without void.

511Further, since there is void in things that have been born,

512solid matter must stand around it;

513nor can anything be proved by true reasoning

514to hide void in its body and to hold it within,

515unless you grant that what encloses it stands solid.

516And that, further, can be nothing but a union

517of matter, such as could enclose the void in things.

518Matter, therefore, which consists of solid body,

519can be eternal, while all else is dissolved.

520Then again, if there were nothing that stood empty⁴³ as void,

521all would be solid; unless, on the other hand, there were definite bodies

522to fill up whatever places they occupied,

523all the space there is would stand as empty void.

524Body, therefore, is plainly marked off from void

525in alternation, since neither does the wholly full exist

526nor, again, the wholly empty; there are, then, definite bodies

527that can mark off empty space from full.

528These can neither be dissolved when struck by blows from outside

529nor, again, be unravelled by being pierced to the core,

530nor, assailed in any other way, can they be made to give;

531as I showed you above, a little while before.⁴⁴

532For nothing, it seems, can be crushed without void,

533nor broken, nor split in two by cutting,

534nor take in moisture, nor likewise seeping cold,

535nor penetrating fire, by which all things are undone.

536And the more void each thing holds within it,

537the more it gives way when assailed to the core by these.

538Therefore if the first bodies are solid and without void,

539as I have taught, they must be eternal.

540Further, unless matter had been eternal,

541before now all things would have gone back utterly to nothing,

542and from nothing would have been reborn whatever we see.

543But since I taught above that nothing can be created

544from nothing, nor what has been born be called back to nothing,

545the first-beginnings must be of immortal body,

546into which all things can be dissolved at their last hour,

547so that matter may be at hand for the renewal of things.

548The first-beginnings, therefore, are of solid singleness⁴⁵,

549nor in any other way could they have been kept through the ages

550to renew things, from time already infinite.

551Finally, if nature had set no limit

552to the breaking of things, by now the bodies of matter

553would have been so worn down by the breaking of past ages

554that nothing conceived from them, from a fixed time on,

555could reach the furthest goal of its age.

556For we see that anything can be dissolved more quickly

557than made again; therefore whatever the long span of days,

558the infinite age of all the time gone before,

559had broken till now, confounding and dissolving it,

560could never be repaired in the time remaining.

561But as it is, a fixed limit to breaking, plainly,

562remains assigned, since we see each thing made again,

563and at the same time fixed seasons, kind by kind, stand set

564for things, in which they can reach the flower of their age.

565Add to this that, although the bodies of matter

566are most solid, an account can still be given of all things

567that come to be soft, air, water, earth, vapors,

568how they come to be and by what force each is carried on,

569since void is mixed, once and for all, in things.

570But if, on the contrary, the first-beginnings of things were soft,

571how hard flints and iron could be created

572no account could be given; for utterly all

573nature will lack a beginning for its foundation.

574They are, therefore, strong in solid singleness,

575and by a denser union of them all things

576can be packed tight and show forth sturdy strength.

577Further, if no limit has been set to the breaking

578of bodies, still, out of eternal time, certain bodies

579must even now survive in things,

580such as have not yet been assailed by any danger.

581But since they are endowed with a fragile nature,

582it is inconsistent that they could have lasted through eternal time,

583harried through the ages by numberless blows.

584Finally, since a limit is set for things, kind by kind,

585to their growing and their holding on to life,

586and since what each can do by nature's covenants⁴⁶,

587and what, further, each cannot, stands decreed,

588nor is anything changed, but all things are so constant

589that the varied birds, all of them in their order,

590show the markings of their kind upon their bodies,

591they must surely also have a body of unchangeable

592matter; for if the first-beginnings of things

593could be overcome in some way and be changed,

594it would then be uncertain, too, what can come to be

595and what cannot, and how at last each thing's power is bounded,⁴⁷

596by what principle, and its boundary-stone set deep,

597nor could the generations, kind by kind, so often repeat

598the nature, the manners, the diet, and the movements of their parents.

599Then further, since there is in each case an outermost point⁴⁸

600of that body which our senses can no longer

601make out, that point, beyond doubt, stands without parts

602and consists of a least nature, and was never

603separate by itself, nor will it have the power to be hereafter,

604since it is itself a part of another, the first and single part;

605then other parts and others, alike, in their order,

606in close-packed column fill out the nature of the body;

607and since these cannot stand by themselves, they must

608cling where they can by no means be torn away.

609The first-beginnings, therefore, are of solid singleness,

610and they cohere tightly, packed with least parts,

611not combined out of a gathering of those parts,

612but rather strong in eternal singleness;

613from them nothing can be torn away, nothing now diminished,

614so nature allows, keeping them in reserve as seeds for things.

615Further, unless there is a least, the very smallest

616bodies will consist of infinite parts,

617since indeed the half of a half will always have

618its own half, and nothing will set a limit.

619Therefore between the sum of things and the least of things

620there will be nothing to tell them apart; for however utterly

621infinite the whole sum may be, still the smallest things there are

622will consist of infinite parts just the same.

623And since true reasoning cries out against this and denies

624that the mind can believe it, you must yield and admit

625that there are things which stand endowed with no parts now

626and consist of a least nature. And since these exist,

627you must admit that those, too, are solid and eternal.

628Finally, if to break all things up into least parts

629had been the custom of the nature of things, the creator⁴⁹,

630that same nature could restore nothing from them now,

631because what is furnished with no parts

632cannot have the things that generative matter

633must have: various connections, weights, blows,

634collisions, motions, by which each thing is carried on.

635Therefore those who have thought that the matter of things is

636fire, and that the sum of things consists of fire alone,

637seem to have slipped greatly from true reasoning.

638Their leader, Heraclitus⁵⁰, is the first to enter the battle,

639bright in fame for his dark speech, more among the empty-headed

640than among the serious Greeks who seek the truth;

641for fools admire and love above all those things

642which they see lurking under twisted words,

643and they set up as true whatever can prettily touch

644the ears and is painted over with a charming sound.

645For why should things be so various, I ask,

646if they are created out of fire, one and pure?

647For it would avail nothing for hot fire to be made dense

648or made rare, if the parts of fire had the same

649nature which fire as a whole has as well.

650For the heat would be fiercer with its parts drawn together,

651and fainter, again, with them scattered and thrown apart.

652More than this there is nothing you might suppose could happen

653under such conditions, far less that so great a variety

654of things could arise from fires made dense and rare.

655This too: if they were to grant void mixed in with things,

656fires could be made dense and be left rare;

657but because they see many things that would run against them

658and shrink from leaving pure void in things,

659while they fear the steep way, they lose the true road,

660nor again do they see that, with void taken from things,

661all things are made dense, and out of all things one

662body is made, which could send nothing swiftly from itself,

663as heat-bringing fire throws out light and warmth,

664so that you may see it is not made of close-packed parts.

665But if perhaps they believe that by some other principle

666fires can be quenched in combining and change their body,

667if, that is, they will not in any part hold back from doing this,

668then beyond doubt the heat will perish utterly into nothing,

669all of it, and from nothing will come whatever is created;

670for whatever is changed and passes out of its own bounds,⁵¹

671this at once is the death of what it was before.

672Therefore something must survive in them unharmed,

673so that all things do not return utterly to nothing for you,

674and the store of things, reborn from nothing, grow strong.

675Now then, since there are certain bodies, utterly sure,

676which keep their nature always the same,

677by whose going away or coming in and change of order

678things change their nature and bodies are transformed,

679you may know that these bodies of things are not of fire.

680For it would make no difference for some to withdraw and go away

681and others to be added, and some to change their order,

682if all of them still kept the nature of heat;

683for whatever they created would in every way be fire.

684But in truth, as I think, it is so: there are certain bodies whose

685collisions⁵², motions, order, position, shapes

686make fires, and, their order changed, change

687their nature, and they are not like fire, nor like any

688other thing which could send bodies

689to the senses and by contact touch our touch.

690Further, to say that all things are fire, and that no

691true thing exists in the number of things except fire,

692as this same man does, seems utter madness.

693For he himself, starting from the senses, fights against the senses

694and shakes them, on which all belief depends,

695by which this fire he names became known to him;

696for he believes that the senses truly know fire,

697but does not believe the rest, which are no less clear.

698And this seems to me as empty as it is mad;

699for to what shall we appeal? What can be surer for us

700than the senses⁵³ themselves, by which to mark true and false?

701Further, why should anyone rather do away with all things

702and wish to leave the nature of heat alone,

703than deny that fires exist and still leave some other nature?

704For it seems equal madness to say either.

705Therefore those who have thought that the matter of things is⁵⁴

706fire, and that the sum of things can consist of fire,

707and those who have set up air⁵⁵ as the beginning

708for begetting things, or whoever have thought that water

709by itself shapes things, or that earth creates

710all things and is turned into the natures of all things,

711seem to have strayed greatly and far from the truth.

712Add also those who double the first-beginnings of things,

713joining air to fire and earth to liquid,

714and those who think that out of four things all things can

715grow forth, out of fire, earth, and breath⁵⁶, and rain.

716Of these, first among them is Empedocles⁵⁷ of Acragas,

717whom the island bore within the three-cornered shores of its lands,

718around which, flowing with great windings, the Ionian

719sea sprinkles salt spray from its gray-green waves,

720and with its narrow strait the rushing sea divides with its waves

721the shores of Aeolia's⁵⁸ lands from the island's borders.

722Here is vast Charybdis, and here the rumblings of Etna

723threaten that the angers of its flames are gathering again,

724so that its force may once more vomit fires burst from its jaws

725and carry again to the sky the lightning-flashes of its flame.

726And while this great region seems in many ways a wonder

727to the races of men, and is said to be worth the seeing,

728rich in good things, fortified with a great force of men,

729yet it seems to have had in it nothing more glorious than this man,

730nothing more holy, more marvelous, or more dear.

731Indeed the songs of his divine breast

732cry aloud and set forth his glorious discoveries,

733so that he scarcely seems born of human stock.

734Yet he, and those we spoke of above, who are inferior

735remarkably in many ways and much the lesser,

736though they discovered many things well and as if divinely,

737and gave answers as from the inner shrine of the heart

738more holy and with far surer reasoning than

739the Pythia⁵⁹, who speaks from the tripod and the laurel of Phoebus,

740yet over the beginnings of things they came to ruin,

741and there, great as they were, they fell heavily with a great fall.

742First, because they set up motions with void taken from things,

743and yet leave things soft and rare,

744air, sun, fire, earths, animals, crops,

745and still do not mix void into their body;

746next, because they will make no limit at all to the cutting

747of bodies, and set no halt to their breaking,

748and nothing at all to exist in things as a least,

749when we see that the outermost point of each thing

750is that which to our senses seems to be least,

751so that you may infer from this that in things you cannot see

752the outermost point they have stands as a least.

753Add to this as well that, since they make the first-beginnings of things

754soft, things which we see to be born

755and to be of mortal body, it follows that utterly

756the sum of things must by now return to nothing,

757and the store of things, reborn from nothing, grow strong;

758and how far each of these stands from the truth you will see now.

759Next, they are in many ways hostile and a poison

760to one another; therefore either, meeting, they will perish,

761or they will so scatter as, when a storm is gathered,

762we see thunderbolts scatter, and rains and winds.

763Finally, if all things are created out of four things,

764and all things are dissolved back again into those things,

765why can those any more be called the first-beginnings of things

766than things, the other way round, be thought to be theirs?

767For they are born by turns, and change their color

768and their whole nature among themselves from all time.

769we see the thunderbolts scatter, and the rains and winds.⁶⁰

770But if perhaps you think the body of fire and of earth

771come together, and the airy breezes and the moisture of liquid,

772so that in their union nothing changes their nature,

773no thing can be created for you out of them,

774not a living thing, not one with a lifeless body, like a tree;–fol. 14v

775for each thing, in the meeting of the varied heap,

776will show its own nature, and air will be seen, mixed,

777to remain together with earth and with a certain moisture.

778But the first-beginnings, in the begetting of things, must

779bring to bear a nature secret and unseen,

780so that nothing stands out to fight against and obstruct–fol. 14v

781whatever is created from being properly what it is.

782Further, they start again from heaven and its fires,

783and make fire first turn itself into the breezes

784of air, from this the rain be born, and earth be created

785out of rain, and from earth all things return in reverse,

786moisture first, after it air, then heat,

787and these to change among themselves without cease, to travel

788from heaven to earth, from earth to the stars of the world.

789This the first-beginnings must by no means do.

790For something unchangeable must survive,

791so that things are not all brought back utterly to nothing;

792for whatever is changed and passes out of its own bounds,

793this at once is the death of what it was before.

794Therefore, since the things we spoke of a little before

795come into change, they must consist

796of others, which can nowhere be converted,

797so that all things do not return utterly to nothing for you;

798why not rather posit certain bodies endowed with such

799a nature that, if perhaps they have created fire,

800the same, with a few taken away and a few added,

801their order and motion changed, can make the breezes of air,

802and so all things be changed, some into others?

803'But the plain fact shows openly,' you say, 'that into the breezes

804of air all things grow up out of the earth and are fed;

805and unless the season, at a favorable time, is generous

806with rains, so that the trees sway under the melting of the clouds,

807and the sun for its part warms them and gives its heat,

808crops, trees, and living things could not grow.'

809Of course; and unless dry food and soft moisture

810helped us, our body would waste, and then all life too

811would be loosed from all our sinews and bones;

812for beyond doubt we are helped and nourished

813by certain things, and other things in turn by certain others.

814No wonder: because many first-beginnings, common in many ways

815to many things, are mixed together in things,

816for that reason varied things are nourished by varied things.

817And it often matters greatly, for the same first-beginnings,

818with what and in what position they are held together,

819and what motions they give and receive among themselves;

820for the same make up heaven, sea, lands, rivers, sun,

821the same make crops, trees, living things,

822but they move mixed with different things and in different ways.

823Indeed, everywhere in these very verses of ours

824you see many elements common to many words,

825though you must still admit that the verses and the words

826differ from one another both in sense and in the sound they make.

827So much can elements do by a change of order alone;

828but those that are the first-beginnings of things can bring

829more to bear, from which varied things can each be created.

830Now let us also examine the homoeomeria⁶¹ of Anaxagoras,ὁμοιομέρειανAnaxagoras's homoeomeria, the Greek word Lucretius transliterates at 830, written out in Greek letters beside it. Pairs with the Greek gloss at the head of Book 2 (fol. 20v).fol. 15v

831as the Greeks call it, which to name in our own tongue

832the poverty of our native speech does not allow us;

833but still the thing itself is easy to set out in words.

834To begin with, when he speaks of the homoeomeria of things,

835he means, you see, that bones from tiny and minute

836bones, and that from tiny and minute

837bits of flesh, flesh is born, and blood is created

838from many drops of blood coming together among themselves,

839and he thinks gold can be formed out of specks

840of gold, and earth grow together out of little earths,

841fires out of fires, moisture be made of moistures,

842and the rest he imagines and supposes on a like principle.

843Nor yet that there is void in things in any part

844does he grant, nor that there is an end to the cutting of bodies.

845Therefore in both parts of his reasoning he seems to me

846to go astray just as those did of whom we spoke above.

847Add that he imagines first-beginnings far too weak;

848if first-beginnings are what stand endowed with a nature

849like that of things themselves, and labor just as they do

850and perish, and nothing reins them back from destruction.

851For which of them will hold out under heavy pressure

852so as to escape death, beneath the very teeth of death?

853Fire, or moisture, or air? Which of these? Blood or bones?

854None, I think, when every thing will be, utterly and equally,

855as mortal as those things we see plainly

856before our eyes perish, overcome by some force.

857But that things cannot fall back into nothing, nor again

858grow out of nothing, I call to witness the things proved before.

859Further, since food increases the body and nourishes it,

860we may know that veins and blood and bones

860a* * *⁶²

861or if they say that all foods are of mixed body

862and have in them small bodies of sinews,

863and bones, and veins altogether, and parts of gore,

864it will follow that all food, both the dry and the liquid itself,

865must be thought to consist of things of foreign kind,

866of bones and sinews and serum and blood mixed together.

867Further, whatever bodies grow up out of the earth,

868if they are in the earth, the earth must consist

869of things of foreign kind, which rise up out of the earth.

870Transfer the argument again; you may use the very same words:

871if flame lies hidden in wood, and smoke and ash,

872wood must consist of things of foreign kind;

873further, that whatever bodies the earth feeds and increases

874consist of things of foreign kind, which rise out of the wood.⁶³

875Here there is left a certain slender chance of hiding,

876which Anaxagoras takes up for himself, holding that every

877thing lies hidden, mixed in among all things, but that one thing

878appears, the one of which the most parts are mixed in

879and lie more ready to hand and set in the forefront.

880But this is driven far away from true reasoning;

881for it would then follow that grain too, when by the menacing

882strength of the stone it is crushed, would often send out some sign

883of blood, or of some other thing that is nourished in our body.

884When we grind them stone upon stone, it would be fitting for gore

885by a like principle to ooze from grasses too, and often,

886and for them to send out juices, sweet drops of a savor like

887the savor of milk in the udder of the wool-bearing ewe;

888and, of course, that when clods of earth are often crumbled,

889kinds of grasses and grains and leaves should be seen

890parceled out through the earth, lying hidden in tiny bits;

891and finally, that ash and smoke should be seen in wood

892when it was snapped across, and tiny fires lying hidden.

893Since the plain fact shows that none of these things happens,

894you may know that things are not so mixed in things,

895but rather that seeds, mixed in many ways, must lie hidden

896in things, seeds common to many things.

897"But often on great mountains," you say, "it happens that the tall

898trees' neighboring tops are rubbed at their summits

899against each other, as the strong south winds force them to it,

900until a flower of flame springs up and they blaze."

901Indeed so; and yet fire is not implanted in the wood,

902but there are many seeds of burning, which, through the rubbing,

903when they have flowed together, create fires in the forests.

904For if flame, already made, were hidden in the forests,

905the fires could not be concealed for any length of time;

906they would consume the forests everywhere, burn up the groves.

907Now do you see, then, what we said a little before,

908that it often matters very much, for these same first-beginnings,

909with what and in what position they are held together,

910and what motions they give and receive among themselves,

911and that these same, a little changed among themselves, create

912fires and wood? Just as the words themselves, too,

913differ by elements a little changed among themselves,

914when we mark wood and fires⁶⁴ with distinct sounds.

915Finally, if you think that whatever you see in things plain to view

916cannot come to be unless you imagine the bodies of matter

917endowed with a nature like theirs,

918on this reasoning the first-beginnings of things perish for you:

919it will come about that they guffaw, shaken with trembling laughter⁶⁵,

920and wet their faces and cheeks with salt tears.

921Come now, for the rest: learn, and hear more clearly.

922Nor does it escape my mind how dark these things are; but with a sharp

923thyrsus⁶⁶ the great hope of praise has struck my heart

924and at the same time has driven into my breast sweet love

925of the Muses, inspired by which now, with vigorous mind,

926I range through the pathless places of the Pierides⁶⁷, trodden before

927by no one's foot. It is a joy to come to untouched springs

928and drink from them, a joy to pluck new flowers

929and to seek for my head a crown of distinction from there

930where the Muses have veiled no one's temples before;

931first because I teach of great things, and go on

932to free the mind from the tight-tied knots of religion,

933then because on a dark matter I compose such lucid

934verses, touching all of it with the Muses' charm.

935For this too seems not to be without good reason;

936but just as physicians, with foul wormwood for children,Comparatio'Comparison': the wormwood-and-honey simile marked as a simile. The one rhetorical note in Book 1, in the brown ink of the text.fol. 17v

937when they try to give it, first touch the rims round the cups

938with the sweet and golden liquid of honey,

939so that the unforeseeing age of children may be fooled

940as far as the lips, and meanwhile drink down the bitter

941juice of wormwood, and, deceived, may not be undone,

942but rather, restored by such means, may grow strong,

943so I now, since this reasoning often seems

944rather grim to those who have not handled it, and the crowd

945shrinks back from it, have wished, in sweet-speaking

946Pierian song, to set out for you our reasoning

947and, as it were, to touch it with the Muses' sweet honey,

948if by such means I might perhaps hold your mind

949on our verses, while you see deep into the whole

950nature of things, the shape in which it stands composed.

951But since I have taught that the most solid bodies of matter

952fly about, unconquered, forever through the ages,

953come now, whether there is some limit to their sum

954or not, let us unfold; likewise, what has been found to be void,

955or place and space, in which all things are carried on,

956let us see clearly whether the whole of it is bounded utterly

957or lies open, immeasurable and vast and deep.

958All that exists, then, is bounded along none of its ways;

959for then it would have to have an outermost point.

960Further, it seems that nothing can have an outermost point

961unless there is something beyond to bound it, so that there seems to be

962a point past which the nature of our sense cannot follow.

963As it is, since we must admit there is nothing outside the sum,

964it has no outermost point; it lacks, therefore, end and measure.

965Nor does it matter in which of its regions you stand;

966so true it is that, whatever place each one takes, on all

967sides alike one leaves the whole as infinite as before.

968Further, if now we should set down as bounded

969all the space that exists, if someone should run out to its shores,

970last of all, at the very edge, and hurl a flying spear⁶⁸,

971would you rather that, whirled by strong force,

972it goes where it was sent and flies far off,

973or do you judge that something can stop it and stand in its way?

974For you must admit and adopt one or the other.

975Either one shuts off your escape, and forces you to grant

976that the whole, exempt from any end, lies open.

977For whether there is something that blocks it and brings it about

978that it does not reach where it was sent and lodge itself at its end,

979or whether it is carried on outside, it has not set out from the end.

980In this way I will follow, and, wherever you place

981the outermost shores, I will ask: what in the end becomes of the spear?

982It will come about that no end can stand anywhere,

983and the scope for flight will always draw out the escape.

984Further, if all the space of the whole sum

985were shut in on every side and stood within fixed shores

986and were bounded, by now the store of matter

987would, by its solid weights, have flowed from all sides to the bottom,

988nor could anything be carried on beneath the canopy of the sky,

989nor would there be a sky at all, nor the light of the sun,

990since all matter would lie heaped up,

991settling down from infinite time already past.

992But as it is, plainly, no rest is given to the bodies

993of the beginnings, because there is no bottom at all

994where they might, as it were, flow together and take up their seats.

995Always, in ceaseless motion, all things are carried on

996in every part, and from beneath are furnished,

997out of the infinite, the swift bodies of matter.

998Finally, before our eyes one thing is seen to bound another;

999air walls off the hills, and mountains the air,

1000land bounds the sea, and the sea in turn bounds all lands;

1001but the whole, indeed, there is nothing outside to bound.

1002There is, therefore, a nature of place and a space of the deep

1003such that bright thunderbolts could not run through it in their course,

1004gliding on through an everlasting tract of age,

1005nor bring it about, by going, that any less remains to go;

1006so widely everywhere lies open a huge room for things,

1007its boundaries taken away, in every direction on all sides.

1008Further, nature prevents the sum of things itself from being able

1009to provide itself a limit, since she compels body to be bounded

1010by void, and what is void, in turn, to be bounded by body,

1011so that by this alternation she renders the whole infinite;

1012or else, too, if the other did not bound it, one of the two

1013would still stretch out without measure in its single nature,⁶⁹

1014and neither sea nor earth nor the shining precincts of heaven

1015nor the mortal race nor the holy bodies of the gods

1016could hold their ground for the brief space of an hour;

1017for, driven apart from its union, the store of matter

1018would be carried, set loose, through the great void,

1019or rather it would never have come together and created

1020anything, since, scattered, it could not have been driven together.

1021For certainly the first-beginnings of things did not by design⁷⁰

1022set themselves each in its order with a shrewd mind,

1023nor, surely, did they bargain what motions each should give;

1024but because, many and changed in many ways, throughout the whole

1025they are harried from infinite time, struck on by blows,

1026by trying every kind of motion and union

1027they come at last into such arrangements

1028as those by which this sum of things has been created and stands,

1029and, preserved as well through many great years

1030once it has been cast into fitting motions,

1031it brings about that the rivers replenish the greedy sea

1032with the large waves of their stream, and that the earth, warmed

1033by the sun's heat, renews her young, and the race of living things,

1034sent up, flourishes, and the fires of the gliding ether live.

1035This they could by no means do unless a store of matter

1036could rise up from the infinite,

1037from which they are used to making good, in time, each thing lost.

1038For just as the nature of living things, robbed of food,

1039wastes away, losing its body, so all things must

1040dissolve as soon as matter has failed to come in supply,

1041turned away by some cause from its road.

1042Nor can blows from outside, from every side, preserve

1043the whole sum, whatever has been gathered into union.

1044For they can strike often and hold back a part

1045until others come and the sum can be filled up;

1046yet at times they are forced to rebound, and at the same time

1047to grant the beginnings of things space and time for flight,

1048so that they can be carried away, free from the union.

1049Therefore, again and again, many must rise up;

1050and yet, so that even the blows themselves can be in supply,

1051there is need of an infinite force of matter on every side.

1052In these matters, Memmius, flee far from believing

1053what they say: that all things press toward the middle⁷¹ of the sum,

1054and that for this reason the nature of the world stands without any

1055blows from outside, and top and bottom cannot be loosedexternis (?)fol. 19v

1056in any direction, because all things have pressed toward the middle

1057(if you believe that anything can stand upon itself),

1058and that the heavy things beneath the earth all press

1059upward and rest against the earth, set there upside down,

1060like the images of things we now see through water;

1061and contend by like reasoning that creatures wander upside down

1062and cannot fall back out of the earth into the regions of the sky

1063below, any more than our bodies could

1064of their own accord fly up into the precincts of heaven;

1065that when they see the sun, we behold the stars of night,

1066and that they share the seasons of heaven turn by turn with us

1067and pass nights equal to our days.

1068But an empty . . . these things for fools . . .⁷²

1069since they hold it embraced . . .

1070For there can be no middle . . .

1071infinite; nor in any way, even if there were a middle now,

1072could anything stand still there . . .

1073than by any other principle far . . .

1074For all place and space, which we call void,

1075must, through the middle and through what is not the middle, give way

1076equally to weights, wherever their motions carry them.

1077Nor is there any place where bodies, once they have come there,

1078can lose the force of weight and stand still in the void;

1079nor must what is void hold up anything at all,

1080but must go on giving way, as its nature seeks.

1081Things cannot, therefore, on such a principle be held

1082in union, overcome by desire for the middle.

1083Further, since they imagine that not all bodies

1084press toward the middle, but only those of earth and liquid,

1086the moisture of the sea and the great waters from the mountains,⁷³

1085and those that are held, as it were, in an earthy body,

1087but on the contrary teach that the thin breezes of air

1088and hot fires together are carried away from the middle,

1089and that for this reason the whole ether flickers with stars all round

1090and the flame of the sun is fed through the blue of heaven,

1091because heat, fleeing from the middle, gathers all of itself there,

1092and that the topmost boughs of trees could not put forth leaves at all+fol. 20r

1093unless from the earth, little by little, food for each . . .⁷⁴

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1102lest, in the manner of winged flames, the walls of the world⁷⁵+fol. 20r

1103should suddenly fly apart, set loose through the great void,

1104and lest the rest should follow on a like principle,

1105or the thundering precincts of heaven rush down from above,

1106and the earth swiftly slip from under our feet, and all of it,

1107amid the mingled ruins of things and of heaven,

1108that set bodies loose, pass away through the deep void,

1109so that in a moment of time nothing would be left of the remnants

1110but deserted space and unseen first-beginnings.

1111For on whatever side you first decide that bodies

1112are lacking, this side will be the door of death for things;

1113through it the whole throng of matter will rush outward.

1114These things you will learn thoroughly, led on with a little labor;

1115for one thing will grow clear from another, nor will blind

1116night snatch your road away and stop you seeing through to the farthest

1117reaches of nature: so things will kindle lights⁷⁶ for things.