Thus then the earth’s ponderous mass was formedWith close-packed body, and all the slime of the worldSlid to the lowest plane by its own weight,And at the bottom settled down like dregs.Then the sea, then the air, then the fire-ladenAether itself, all these were now left pureWith liquid bodies. Some indeed are lighterThan others, and most liquid and light of allOver the airy currents aether floats,Not blending with the turbulent atmosphereIts liquid substance. All below, it suffersTo be embroiled by violent hurricanes,Suffers all to be tossed with wayward storms,While itself gliding on with changeless sweepBears its own fires along. For, that the aetherMay stream on steadily with one impulse,The Pontos demonstrates, that sea which streamsWith an unchanging tide, unceasinglyPreserving as it glides one constant pace.Now let us sing what cause could set the starsIn motion. First, if the great globe of heavenRevolves, then we must needs maintain that airPresses upon the axis at each end,And holds it from outside, closing it inAt both poles; also that there streams aboveAnother current, moving the same way,In which the stars of the eternal worldRoll glittering onward; or else that beneathThere is another stream, that drives the sphereUpwards the opposite way, just as we seeRivers turn mill-wheels with their water-scoops.It likewise may well be that the whole skyRemains at rest, yet that the shining signsAre carried onwards; either because within themAre shut swift tides of aether, that whirl roundSeeking a way out, and so roll their firesOn all sides through the sky’s nocturnal mansions;Or else that from some other source outsideAn air-stream whirls and drives the fires along;Or else they may be gliding of themselves,Moving whithersoever the food of eachCalls and invites them, nourishing everywhereTheir flaming bodies throughout the whole sky.For it is hard to affirm with certaintyWhich of these causes operates in this world:But what throughout the universe both canAnd does take place in various worlds, createdOn various plans, this I teach, and proceedTo expound what divers causes may existThrough the universe for the motion of the stars:And one of these in our world too must beThe cause which to the heavenly signs impartsTheir motive vigour: but dogmaticallyTo assert which this may be, is in no wiseThe function of those advancing step by step.Now in order that the earth should be at restIn the world’s midst, it would seem probableThat its weight gradually diminishingShould disappear, and that the earth should haveAnother nature underneath, conjoinedAnd blent in union from its earliest ageWith those aerial portions of the worldWherein it lives embodied. For this causeIt is no burden, nor weighs down the air,Just as to a man his own limbs are no weight,Nor is the head a burden to the neck,Nor do we feel that the whole body’s weightRests on the feet: yet a much smaller burdenLaid on us from outside, will often hurt us.Of such great moment is it what each thing’sFunction may be. Thus then the earth is notAn alien body intruded suddenly,Nor thrust from elsewhere into an alien air,But was conceived together with the worldAt its first birth as a fixed portion of it,Just as our limbs are seen to be of us.Moreover the earth, when shaken suddenlyWith violent thunder, by its trembling shakesAll that is over it; which in no wiseCould happen, if it were not closely boundWith the world’s airy parts, and with the sky.For they all, as though by common roots, cohereOne with another, from their earliest ageConjoined and blent in union. See you not tooThat heavy as our body’s weight may be,Yet the soul’s force, though subtle exceedingly,Sustains it, being so closely joined and blentIn union with it? Also what has powerTo lift the body with a nimble leap,Except the mind’s force that controls the limbs?Do you not now perceive how great the powerMay be of a subtle nature, when ’tis joinedWith a heavy body, even as with the earthThe air is joined, and the mind’s force with us?Also the sun’s disk cannot be much larger,Nor its heat be much less, than to our senseThey appear to be. For from whatever distanceFires can fling light, and breathe upon our limbsTheir warming heat, these intervening spacesTake away nothing from the body of flame;The fire is not shrunken visibly.So since the sun’s heat and the light it shedsBoth reach our senses and caress our limbs,The form also and contour of the sunMust needs be seen from the earth in their true scale,With neither addition nor diminishment.Also the moon, whether it moves alongIlluminating earth with borrowed light,Or throws out its own rays from its own body,Howe’er that be, moves with a shape no largerThan seems that shape which our eyes contemplate.For all things which we look at from far offThrough much air, seem to our vision to grow dimBefore their contours lessen. Therefore the moon,Seeing that it presents a clear aspectAnd definite shape, must needs by us on earthBe seen on high in its defining outlineJust as it is, and of its actual size.Lastly consider all those fires of aetherYou see from the earth. Since fires, which here belowWe observe, for so long as their flickeringRemains distinct, and their heat is perceived,Are sometimes seen to change their size to lessOr greater to some very slight extentAccording to their distance, you may thenceKnow that the fires of aether can be smallerOnly by infinitesimal degrees,Or larger by the tiniest minute fraction.This also is not wonderful, how the sunSmall as it is, can shed so great a light,As with its flood to fill all seas and landsAnd sky, with warm heat bathing everything.For from this spot perhaps a single wellFor the whole world may open and gush out,Shooting forth an abundant stream of light,Because from everywhere throughout the worldIn such wise do the particles of heatGather together, and their united massConverges in such wise, that blazing fireStreams forth here from a single fountain-head.See you not too how wide a meadow-landOne little spring of water sometimes floods,Overflowing whole fields? It may be alsoThat from the sun’s flame, though it be not great,Heat pervades the whole air with scorching fires,Should the air chance to be susceptibleAnd ready to be kindled, when it is struckBy tiny heat-rays. Then we sometimes seeA wide-spread conflagration from one sparkCatch fields of corn or stubble. Perhaps tooThe sun shining on high with ruddy torchMay be surrounded by much fire and heatsInvisible, fire which no radianceReveals, but laden with heat it does no moreThan reinforce the stroke of the sun’s rays.Nor is there any single theory,Certain and obvious, of how the sunOut of his summer stations passing forthApproaches the midwinter turning-pointOf Capricorn, and how coming back thenceHe bends his course to the solstitial goalOf Cancer; then too how the moon is seenTo traverse every month that space, whereonThe journeying sun spends a year’s period.For these events, I say, no single causeCan be assigned. It seems most probableThat the august opinion of DemocritusShould be the truth; the nearer to the earthThe several constellations move, the lessCan they be borne on with the whirl of heaven:For in the lower portions of this whirlHe says its speed and energy diminishAnd disappear; so that little by littleThe sun is outstripped by the signs that follow,Since he is far beneath the burning stars.And the moon, so he says, more than the sun.The lower and the further from the skyHer course is, and the nearer to the earth,The less can she keep even with the signs.For the more languid is the whirl wherebyShe is borne along, being lower than the sun,The more do all the signs around her pathOvertake and pass by her. Thus it isThat she seems to move backward to each signMore quickly, because the signs come up to her.It may be also that two streams of airCross the sun’s path at fixed times, each in turnFlowing from opposite quarters of the world,Whereof the first may thrust the sun awayOut of the summer signs, until he comesTo his winter turning-point and the icy frost;While the other from the freezing shades of coldSweeps him right back to the heat-laden regionsAnd the torrid constellations. And just soWe must suppose that the moon and the planets,Which roll in their huge orbits through huge years,May move on streams of air alternatelyFrom opposite quarters. Do you not also seeHow clouds are shifted by opposing winds,The lower in directions contraryTo those above? Why should not yonder starsBe likewise carried by opposing currentsUpon their mighty orbits through the sky?But night covers the earth with vast darknessEither when after his long course the sunHas entered on the uttermost parts of heaven,And now grown languid has breathed forth his fires,Exhausted by their journey, and worn outBy traversing much air; or else becauseThat same force which has borne his orb alongAbove the earth, compels him now to turnBackward his course and pass beneath the earth.Likewise at a fixed time Matuta spreadsThe rosy dawn abroad through the sky’s borders,And opens out her light; either becauseThe same sun, travelling back below the earth,Seizes the sky beforehand, and is fainTo kindle it with his rays; or else becauseFires meet together, and many seeds of heatAre wont at a fixed time to stream togetherCausing new sunlight each day to be born.Even so ’tis told that from the mountain heightsOf Ida at daybreak scattered fires are seen;These then unite as if into one globeAnd make up the sun’s orb. Nor yet hereinShould it cause wonder that these seeds of fireCan stream together at a time so fixed,Repairing thus the radiance of the sun.For everywhere we see many eventsHappening at fixed times. Thus trees both flowerAnd shed their blossoms at fixed times; and ageAt a time no less fixed bids the teeth drop,And the boy clothe his features with the downOf puberty, and let a soft beard fallFrom either cheek. Lastly lightning and snow,Rains, clouds and winds happen at more or lessRegular yearly seasons. For where causesFrom the beginning have remained the same,And things from the first origin of the worldHave so fallen out, they still repeat themselvesIn regular sequence after a fixed order.The cause too why days lengthen and nights wane,While daylight shortens as the nights increase,May either be because the same sun, journeyingUnderneath and above the earth in curvesOf unlike length, parts the celestial regionsAnd into unequal halves divides his orbit:Whatever he has subtracted from one half,Just so much does he add, when he comes round,On to the other half, till he has reachedThat sign of heaven where the year’s node makesThe night’s shade equal to the light of day.For in the sun’s mid course between the blastsOf south wind and of north, the heaven holdsHis turning-points apart at distancesNow equalised, since such is the positionOf the whole starry circle, to glide through whichThe sun takes up the period of a year,Lighting the earth and sky with slanting rays,As is shown by the arguments of thoseWho have mapped out all the quarters of the sky,Adorned with their twelve signs spaced out in order.Or else because the air in certain partsIs thicker, therefore the trembling lamp of fireIs hindered in its course beneath the earth,And cannot easily force a passage throughAnd emerge at the place where it should rise.So in winter-time the nights are long and lingering,Ere the day’s radiant oriflamme comes forth.Or else again those fires which cause the sunTo rise from a fixed point, for a like reasonAre wont to stream together slower or quickerIn alternating periods of the year.So those would seem to speak the truth who holdThat every morning a new sun is born.It may be the moon shines because she is struckBy the sun’s rays, and turns towards our eyesA larger portion of this light each day,The further she recedes from the sun’s orb,Until over against him with full lightShe has shone forth, and as she rises upHas looked upon his setting from on high.Thereafter in her gradual backward courseIn the same manner she must hide her light,The nearer she now glides to the sun’s fireTravelling through the circle of the signsFrom an opposite direction: as those holdWho fancy that the moon is like a ball,And moves along a course below the sun.It is also possible that she revolvesWith her own light, and yet shows varyingPhases of brightness: for there may well beAnother body which glides on beside her,Obstructing and occulting her continually,And yet cannot be seen, because it movesWithout light. Or perhaps she may turn roundLike a ball, let us say, whose sphere is tingedWith glowing light over one-half its surface;And as she turns her sphere, she may presentVarying phases, till she has turned that sideWhich glows with fire towards our gazing eyes;Then she twists gradually back once moreAnd hides the luminous half of her round ball:As the Chaldean sages seek to prove,Refuting with their Babylonian doctrineThe opposing science of the astronomers;Just as though what each sect is fighting forMight not be true, or there were any reasonWhy you should risk embracing the one creedLess than the other. Again why every timeThere should not be created a fresh moon,With fixed succession of phases and fixed shapes,So that each day this new-created moonWould perish, and another in its steadBe reproduced, this were no easy taskTo prove by argument convincingly,Since there can be so many things createdIn fixed succession. Thus Spring goes its way,And Venus, and the wingèd harbingerOf Venus leads them on; while treading closeOn Zephyr’s footsteps, mother Flora strewsThe path before them, covering it all overWith every loveliest colour and rich scent.Next in procession follows parching heat,With dusty Ceres in its company,And the Etesian blasts of the North winds.After these Autumn comes, and by its sideAdvances Euhius Euan,[G]following whomThe other Seasons with their winds appear,Volturnus thundering on high, and AusterTerrible with its lightnings. Then at lengthDecember brings snow and renews numb frost.Winter follows with teeth chattering for cold.Wherefore it seems less wonderful that the moonShould be begotten and destroyed againAt fixed times, seeing that so many thingsCan come to pass at times so surely fixed.Likewise the occultations of the sunAnd the moon’s vanishings you must supposeMay be produced by many different causes.For why should the moon be able to shut outThe earth from the sun’s light, and lift her headOn high to obstruct him from the earthward side,Blocking his fiery beams with her dark orb,And yet at the same time some other bodyGliding on without light continuallyShould be supposed unable to do this?Why too should not the sun at a fixed timeGrow faint and lose his fires, and then againRevive his light, when he has had to passThrough tracts of air so hostile to his flamesThat awhile his fires are quenched by them and perish?And why should the earth have power in turn to robThe moon of light, and likewise keep the sunSuppressed, while in her monthly course the moonGlides through the clear-cut shadows of the cone,And yet at the same time some other bodyShould not have power to pass under the moon,Or glide above the sun’s orb, breaking offThe beams of light he sheds? And furthermore,If the moon shines with her own radiance,Why in a certain region of the worldMight she not grow faint, while she makes her wayThrough tracts that are unfriendly to her light?Now since I have demonstrated how each thingMight come to pass throughout the azure spacesOf the great heaven, how we may know what forceCan cause the varying motions of the sun,And wanderings of the moon, and in what wayTheir light being intercepted they might vanishCovering with darkness the astonished earth,When as it were they close their eye of light,And opening it again, survey all placesRadiant with shining brightness,—therefore nowI will go back to the world’s infancyAnd the tender age of the world’s fields, and showWhat in their first fecundity they resolvedTo raise into the borders of the lightAnd give in charge unto the wayward winds.In the beginning the Earth brought forth all kindsOf plants and growing verdure on hillsidesAnd over all the plains: the flowering meadowsShone with green colour: next to the various treesWas given a mighty emulous impulseTo shoot up into the air with unchecked growth.As feathers, hairs and bristles first are bornOn limbs of quadrupeds and on the bodiesOf winged fowl, so the new Earth then put forthGrasses and brushwood first, and afterwardsGave birth to all the breeds of mortal things,That sprang up many in number, in many modesAnd divers fashions. For no animalsCan have dropped from the sky, nor can land-creaturesHave issued from the salt pools. Hence it isThat with good reason the Earth has won the nameOf Mother, since from the Earth all things are born.And many living creatures even nowRise from the soil, formed by rains, and the sun’sFierce heat. Therefore the less strange it appearsIf then they arose more numerous and more largeFostered by a new earth and atmosphere.So first of all the varied familiesAnd tribes of birds would leave their eggs, hatched outIn the spring season, as now the cicadasIn summer-time leave of their own accordTheir filmy skins in search of food and life.Then was the time when first the Earth producedThe race of mortal men. For in the fieldsPlenteous heat and moisture would abound,So that wherever a fit place occurred,Wombs would grow, fastened to the earth by roots:And when the warmth of the infants in due time,Avoiding moisture and demanding air,Had broken these wombs open, then would NatureTurn to that place the porous ducts of the Earth,Compelling it to exude through open veinsA milk-like liquid, just as nowadaysAfter child-bearing every woman is filledWith sweet milk; for with her too the whole flowOf nutriment sets streaming towards her breasts.Earth to these children furnished food, the heatClothing, the grass a bed, well lined with richLuxuriance of soft down. Moreover thenThe world in its fresh newness would give riseNeither to rigorous cold nor extreme heat,Nor violent storms of wind, for in a likeProportion all things grow and gather strength.Therefore again and yet again I sayThat with good reason the Earth has won and keepsThe name of Mother, since she of herselfGave birth to humankind, and at a periodWell nigh determined shed forth every beastThat roams o’er the great mountains far and wide,Likewise the birds of air, many in shape.But because she must have some limit setTo her time of bearing, she ceased, like a womanWorn out by lapse of years. For Time transformsThe whole world’s nature, and all things must passFrom one condition to another: nothingContinues like itself. All is in flux:Nature is ever changing and compellingAll that exists to alter. For one thingMoulders and wastes away grown weak with age,And then another comes forth into light,Issuing from obscurity. So thus TimeChanges the whole world’s nature, and the EarthPasses from one condition to another:So that what once it bore it can no longer,And now can bear what it did not before.And many monsters too did the Earth essayTo produce in those days, creatures arisingWith marvellous face and limbs, the Hermaphrodite,A thing of neither sex, between the two,Differing from both: some things deprived of feet;Others again with no hands; others dumbWithout mouths, or else blind for lack of eyes,Or bound by limbs that everywhere adheredFast to their bodies, so that they could performNo function, nor go anywhere, nor shunDanger, nor take what their need might require.Many such monstrous prodigies did EarthProduce, in vain, since Nature banned their increase,Nor could they reach the coveted flower of age,Nor find food, nor be joined in bonds of love.For we see numerous conditions firstMust meet together, before living thingsCan beget and perpetuate their kind.First they must have food, then a means by whichThe seeds of birth may stream throughout the frameFrom the relaxed limbs; also that the maleAnd female may unite, they must have thatWhereby each may exchange mutual joys.And many breeds of creatures in those daysMust have died out, being powerless to begetAnd perpetuate their kind. For those which nowYou see breathing the breath of life, ’tis craft,Or courage, or else speed, that from its originMust have protected and preserved each race.Moreover many by their usefulnessCommended to us, continue to existFavoured by our protection. The fierce breedOf lions first, and the other savage beasts,Their courage has preserved, foxes their craft,Stags their swift flight. But the light-slumbering heartsOf faithful dogs, and the whole familyBorn from the seed of burden-bearing beasts,Also the woolly flocks and horned herds,All these by man’s protection are preserved.For their desire has always been to shunWild beasts and to live peaceably, suppliedWithout toil of their own with food in plenty,Which to reward their services we give them.But those whom Nature has not thus endowedWith power either to live by their own meansOr else to render us such useful serviceThat in return we allow their race to feedAnd dwell in safety beneath our guardianship,All these, ’tis plain, would lie exposed a preyTo others, trammelled in their own fatal bonds,Till Nature had extinguished that whole kind.But Centaurs there have never been, nor yetEver can things exist of twofold natureAnd double body moulded into oneFrom limbs of alien kind, whose facultiesAnd functions cannot be on either sideSufficiently alike. That this is so,The dullest intellect may be thus convinced.Consider first that a horse after three yearsIs in his flower of vigour, but a boyBy no means so: for often in sleep even thenWill he seek milk still from his mother’s breastsAfterwards, when the horse’s lusty strengthFails him in old age, and his limbs grow languidAs life ebbs, then first for a boy beginsThe flowering time of youth, and clothes his cheeksWith soft down. Do not then believe that everFrom man’s and burden-bearing horse’s seedCentaurs can be compounded and have being;Nor yet Scyllas with half-fish bodies girdledWith raging dogs, and other suchlike things,Whose limbs we see discordant with themselves,Since neither do they reach their flower together,Nor acquire bodily strength, nor in old ageLose it at the same time: dissimilarIn each the love that burns them, and their modesOf life incongruous: nor do the same things giveTheir bodies pleasure. Thus we may often seeBearded goats thrive on hemlock, which for manIs virulent poison. Since moreover flameIs wont to scorch and burn the tawny bodiesOf lions no less than every other kindOf flesh and blood on earth, how could it beThat one, yet with a triple body, in frontA lion, behind a serpent, in the midstIts goat’s self, a Chimaera should breathe forthFrom such a body fierce flame at the mouth?Therefore he who can fable that when earthWas new and the sky young, such animalsCould have been propagated, resting aloneUpon this vain term, newness, he no doubtWill babble out many follies in like fashion,Will say that rivers then throughout the earthCommonly flowed with gold, that trees were wontTo bloom with jewels, or that man was bornOf such huge bulk and force that he could wadeWith giant strides across deep seas and turnThe whole heaven round about him with his hands.For the fact that there were many seeds of thingsWithin the earth at that time when it firstShed living creatures forth, is yet no proofThat beasts could have been born of mingled kinds,Or limbs of different animals joined together;Because the various families of plants,The crops and thriving trees, which even nowTeem upward from the soil luxuriantly,Can yet never be born woven together;But each thing has its own process of growth:All must preserve their mutual differences,Governed by Nature’s irreversible law.But that first race of men in the open fieldsWas hardier far, (small wonder, since hard EarthHad brought it forth,) built too around a frameOf bones more large and solid, knit togetherBy powerful sinews; nor was it easilyImpaired by heat or cold, nor by strange foods,Nor yet by any bodily disease.And during many revolving periodsOf the sun through the sky, they lived their livesAfter the roving habit of wild beasts.No one was then the bent plough’s stalwart guide,None yet had knowledge how to till the fieldsWith iron, or plant young saplings in the soil,Nor how to lop old boughs from the tall treesWith pruning-hooks. What suns and rains had given,What of her own free will Earth had brought forth,Was enough bounty to content their hearts.’Neath acorn-bearing oak-trees their wont wasTo alleviate their hunger; and those berriesWhich now upon the arbutus you seeRipening to scarlet hues in winter-time,The Earth then bore more plentifully and largerThan in these days. Moreover then the world’sLuxuriant youth gave birth to many kindsOf coarse food, ample enough for wretched men.But to allay their thirst rivers and springsInvited, as now waters, tumbling downFrom the great mountains with clear-sounding plash,Summon from far the thirsting tribes of beasts.Furthermore in their roamings they would visitThose renowned silvan precincts of the Nymphs,Caverns wherefrom they knew that copious streams,Gushing forth smoothly, bathed the dripping rocks,(The dripping rocks, o’er green moss trickling down,)Or sometimes welled up over the level plain.As yet they knew not how to employ fire,Or to make use of skins, and clothe their bodiesWith spoils of wild beasts; but inhabitingWoods, mountains, caves and forests, they would shelterTheir squalid limbs in thickets, when compelledTo shun the buffeting of winds and rains.No regard could they have to a general good,Nor did they know how to make use in commonOf any laws or customs. WhatsoeverFortune might set before him, that would eachTake as his prize, cunning to thrive and liveAs best might please him, each one for himself.And in the woods Venus would join the bodiesOf lovers, whether a mutual desire,Or the man’s violence and vehement lustHad won the woman over, or a bribeOf acorns, arbute-berries or choice pears.Endowed with marvellous strength of hands and feetThey chased the forest-roaming tribes of beasts;And many with flung stones and ponderous clubThey overcame, some few they would avoidIn hiding-places. And like bristly swineJust as they were they flung their savage limbsNaked upon the ground, when night o’ertook them,Enveloping themselves with leaves and boughs.Nor did they call for daylight and the sunWandering terror-stricken about the fieldsWith loud wails through the shadows of the night,But silently, buried in sleep they layWaiting until the sun with rosy torchBrought light into the sky. For since from childhoodThey had been wont to see darkness and lightAlternately begotten without fail,Never could they feel wonder or misgivingLest night eternal should possess the earthAnd the sun’s light for ever be withdrawn.But ’twas a worse anxiety that wild beastsOften made sleep unsafe for these poor wretches.For driven from their homes in sheltering rocksThey fled at the entrance of a foaming boarOr strong lion, yielding up at dead of nightTheir leaf-strewn beds in panic to fierce guests.Yet no more often in those days than nowWould mortal men leave the sweet light of lifeWith lamentation. Each one by himselfWould doubtless be more likely then than nowTo be seized and devoured by wild beasts’ teeth,A living food, and with his groans would fillMountains and forests, while he saw his ownLive flesh in a live monument entombed.But those whom flight had saved with mangled body,From that time forth would hold their trembling handsOver their noisome scars, with dreadful criesInvoking death, till agonising throesRid them of life, with none to give them aid,Ignorant of what wounds required. But thenA single day did not consign to deathThousands on thousands, marshalled beneath standards,Nor did the turbulent waters of the deepShatter upon the rocks both ships and men.At that time vainly, without aim or resultThe sea would often rise up and turmoil;Nor could the winsome wiles of the calm deepLure men on treacherously with laughing waves,While reckless seamanship was yet unknown.Moreover lack of food would then consignTheir fainting limbs to death: now rather plentySinks men to ruin. Often for themselvesWould they pour poison out unwittingly:To others now with subtler skill they give it.
Thus then the earth’s ponderous mass was formedWith close-packed body, and all the slime of the worldSlid to the lowest plane by its own weight,And at the bottom settled down like dregs.Then the sea, then the air, then the fire-ladenAether itself, all these were now left pureWith liquid bodies. Some indeed are lighterThan others, and most liquid and light of allOver the airy currents aether floats,Not blending with the turbulent atmosphereIts liquid substance. All below, it suffersTo be embroiled by violent hurricanes,Suffers all to be tossed with wayward storms,While itself gliding on with changeless sweepBears its own fires along. For, that the aetherMay stream on steadily with one impulse,The Pontos demonstrates, that sea which streamsWith an unchanging tide, unceasinglyPreserving as it glides one constant pace.Now let us sing what cause could set the starsIn motion. First, if the great globe of heavenRevolves, then we must needs maintain that airPresses upon the axis at each end,And holds it from outside, closing it inAt both poles; also that there streams aboveAnother current, moving the same way,In which the stars of the eternal worldRoll glittering onward; or else that beneathThere is another stream, that drives the sphereUpwards the opposite way, just as we seeRivers turn mill-wheels with their water-scoops.It likewise may well be that the whole skyRemains at rest, yet that the shining signsAre carried onwards; either because within themAre shut swift tides of aether, that whirl roundSeeking a way out, and so roll their firesOn all sides through the sky’s nocturnal mansions;Or else that from some other source outsideAn air-stream whirls and drives the fires along;Or else they may be gliding of themselves,Moving whithersoever the food of eachCalls and invites them, nourishing everywhereTheir flaming bodies throughout the whole sky.For it is hard to affirm with certaintyWhich of these causes operates in this world:But what throughout the universe both canAnd does take place in various worlds, createdOn various plans, this I teach, and proceedTo expound what divers causes may existThrough the universe for the motion of the stars:And one of these in our world too must beThe cause which to the heavenly signs impartsTheir motive vigour: but dogmaticallyTo assert which this may be, is in no wiseThe function of those advancing step by step.Now in order that the earth should be at restIn the world’s midst, it would seem probableThat its weight gradually diminishingShould disappear, and that the earth should haveAnother nature underneath, conjoinedAnd blent in union from its earliest ageWith those aerial portions of the worldWherein it lives embodied. For this causeIt is no burden, nor weighs down the air,Just as to a man his own limbs are no weight,Nor is the head a burden to the neck,Nor do we feel that the whole body’s weightRests on the feet: yet a much smaller burdenLaid on us from outside, will often hurt us.Of such great moment is it what each thing’sFunction may be. Thus then the earth is notAn alien body intruded suddenly,Nor thrust from elsewhere into an alien air,But was conceived together with the worldAt its first birth as a fixed portion of it,Just as our limbs are seen to be of us.Moreover the earth, when shaken suddenlyWith violent thunder, by its trembling shakesAll that is over it; which in no wiseCould happen, if it were not closely boundWith the world’s airy parts, and with the sky.For they all, as though by common roots, cohereOne with another, from their earliest ageConjoined and blent in union. See you not tooThat heavy as our body’s weight may be,Yet the soul’s force, though subtle exceedingly,Sustains it, being so closely joined and blentIn union with it? Also what has powerTo lift the body with a nimble leap,Except the mind’s force that controls the limbs?Do you not now perceive how great the powerMay be of a subtle nature, when ’tis joinedWith a heavy body, even as with the earthThe air is joined, and the mind’s force with us?Also the sun’s disk cannot be much larger,Nor its heat be much less, than to our senseThey appear to be. For from whatever distanceFires can fling light, and breathe upon our limbsTheir warming heat, these intervening spacesTake away nothing from the body of flame;The fire is not shrunken visibly.So since the sun’s heat and the light it shedsBoth reach our senses and caress our limbs,The form also and contour of the sunMust needs be seen from the earth in their true scale,With neither addition nor diminishment.Also the moon, whether it moves alongIlluminating earth with borrowed light,Or throws out its own rays from its own body,Howe’er that be, moves with a shape no largerThan seems that shape which our eyes contemplate.For all things which we look at from far offThrough much air, seem to our vision to grow dimBefore their contours lessen. Therefore the moon,Seeing that it presents a clear aspectAnd definite shape, must needs by us on earthBe seen on high in its defining outlineJust as it is, and of its actual size.Lastly consider all those fires of aetherYou see from the earth. Since fires, which here belowWe observe, for so long as their flickeringRemains distinct, and their heat is perceived,Are sometimes seen to change their size to lessOr greater to some very slight extentAccording to their distance, you may thenceKnow that the fires of aether can be smallerOnly by infinitesimal degrees,Or larger by the tiniest minute fraction.This also is not wonderful, how the sunSmall as it is, can shed so great a light,As with its flood to fill all seas and landsAnd sky, with warm heat bathing everything.For from this spot perhaps a single wellFor the whole world may open and gush out,Shooting forth an abundant stream of light,Because from everywhere throughout the worldIn such wise do the particles of heatGather together, and their united massConverges in such wise, that blazing fireStreams forth here from a single fountain-head.See you not too how wide a meadow-landOne little spring of water sometimes floods,Overflowing whole fields? It may be alsoThat from the sun’s flame, though it be not great,Heat pervades the whole air with scorching fires,Should the air chance to be susceptibleAnd ready to be kindled, when it is struckBy tiny heat-rays. Then we sometimes seeA wide-spread conflagration from one sparkCatch fields of corn or stubble. Perhaps tooThe sun shining on high with ruddy torchMay be surrounded by much fire and heatsInvisible, fire which no radianceReveals, but laden with heat it does no moreThan reinforce the stroke of the sun’s rays.Nor is there any single theory,Certain and obvious, of how the sunOut of his summer stations passing forthApproaches the midwinter turning-pointOf Capricorn, and how coming back thenceHe bends his course to the solstitial goalOf Cancer; then too how the moon is seenTo traverse every month that space, whereonThe journeying sun spends a year’s period.For these events, I say, no single causeCan be assigned. It seems most probableThat the august opinion of DemocritusShould be the truth; the nearer to the earthThe several constellations move, the lessCan they be borne on with the whirl of heaven:For in the lower portions of this whirlHe says its speed and energy diminishAnd disappear; so that little by littleThe sun is outstripped by the signs that follow,Since he is far beneath the burning stars.And the moon, so he says, more than the sun.The lower and the further from the skyHer course is, and the nearer to the earth,The less can she keep even with the signs.For the more languid is the whirl wherebyShe is borne along, being lower than the sun,The more do all the signs around her pathOvertake and pass by her. Thus it isThat she seems to move backward to each signMore quickly, because the signs come up to her.It may be also that two streams of airCross the sun’s path at fixed times, each in turnFlowing from opposite quarters of the world,Whereof the first may thrust the sun awayOut of the summer signs, until he comesTo his winter turning-point and the icy frost;While the other from the freezing shades of coldSweeps him right back to the heat-laden regionsAnd the torrid constellations. And just soWe must suppose that the moon and the planets,Which roll in their huge orbits through huge years,May move on streams of air alternatelyFrom opposite quarters. Do you not also seeHow clouds are shifted by opposing winds,The lower in directions contraryTo those above? Why should not yonder starsBe likewise carried by opposing currentsUpon their mighty orbits through the sky?But night covers the earth with vast darknessEither when after his long course the sunHas entered on the uttermost parts of heaven,And now grown languid has breathed forth his fires,Exhausted by their journey, and worn outBy traversing much air; or else becauseThat same force which has borne his orb alongAbove the earth, compels him now to turnBackward his course and pass beneath the earth.Likewise at a fixed time Matuta spreadsThe rosy dawn abroad through the sky’s borders,And opens out her light; either becauseThe same sun, travelling back below the earth,Seizes the sky beforehand, and is fainTo kindle it with his rays; or else becauseFires meet together, and many seeds of heatAre wont at a fixed time to stream togetherCausing new sunlight each day to be born.Even so ’tis told that from the mountain heightsOf Ida at daybreak scattered fires are seen;These then unite as if into one globeAnd make up the sun’s orb. Nor yet hereinShould it cause wonder that these seeds of fireCan stream together at a time so fixed,Repairing thus the radiance of the sun.For everywhere we see many eventsHappening at fixed times. Thus trees both flowerAnd shed their blossoms at fixed times; and ageAt a time no less fixed bids the teeth drop,And the boy clothe his features with the downOf puberty, and let a soft beard fallFrom either cheek. Lastly lightning and snow,Rains, clouds and winds happen at more or lessRegular yearly seasons. For where causesFrom the beginning have remained the same,And things from the first origin of the worldHave so fallen out, they still repeat themselvesIn regular sequence after a fixed order.The cause too why days lengthen and nights wane,While daylight shortens as the nights increase,May either be because the same sun, journeyingUnderneath and above the earth in curvesOf unlike length, parts the celestial regionsAnd into unequal halves divides his orbit:Whatever he has subtracted from one half,Just so much does he add, when he comes round,On to the other half, till he has reachedThat sign of heaven where the year’s node makesThe night’s shade equal to the light of day.For in the sun’s mid course between the blastsOf south wind and of north, the heaven holdsHis turning-points apart at distancesNow equalised, since such is the positionOf the whole starry circle, to glide through whichThe sun takes up the period of a year,Lighting the earth and sky with slanting rays,As is shown by the arguments of thoseWho have mapped out all the quarters of the sky,Adorned with their twelve signs spaced out in order.Or else because the air in certain partsIs thicker, therefore the trembling lamp of fireIs hindered in its course beneath the earth,And cannot easily force a passage throughAnd emerge at the place where it should rise.So in winter-time the nights are long and lingering,Ere the day’s radiant oriflamme comes forth.Or else again those fires which cause the sunTo rise from a fixed point, for a like reasonAre wont to stream together slower or quickerIn alternating periods of the year.So those would seem to speak the truth who holdThat every morning a new sun is born.It may be the moon shines because she is struckBy the sun’s rays, and turns towards our eyesA larger portion of this light each day,The further she recedes from the sun’s orb,Until over against him with full lightShe has shone forth, and as she rises upHas looked upon his setting from on high.Thereafter in her gradual backward courseIn the same manner she must hide her light,The nearer she now glides to the sun’s fireTravelling through the circle of the signsFrom an opposite direction: as those holdWho fancy that the moon is like a ball,And moves along a course below the sun.It is also possible that she revolvesWith her own light, and yet shows varyingPhases of brightness: for there may well beAnother body which glides on beside her,Obstructing and occulting her continually,And yet cannot be seen, because it movesWithout light. Or perhaps she may turn roundLike a ball, let us say, whose sphere is tingedWith glowing light over one-half its surface;And as she turns her sphere, she may presentVarying phases, till she has turned that sideWhich glows with fire towards our gazing eyes;Then she twists gradually back once moreAnd hides the luminous half of her round ball:As the Chaldean sages seek to prove,Refuting with their Babylonian doctrineThe opposing science of the astronomers;Just as though what each sect is fighting forMight not be true, or there were any reasonWhy you should risk embracing the one creedLess than the other. Again why every timeThere should not be created a fresh moon,With fixed succession of phases and fixed shapes,So that each day this new-created moonWould perish, and another in its steadBe reproduced, this were no easy taskTo prove by argument convincingly,Since there can be so many things createdIn fixed succession. Thus Spring goes its way,And Venus, and the wingèd harbingerOf Venus leads them on; while treading closeOn Zephyr’s footsteps, mother Flora strewsThe path before them, covering it all overWith every loveliest colour and rich scent.Next in procession follows parching heat,With dusty Ceres in its company,And the Etesian blasts of the North winds.After these Autumn comes, and by its sideAdvances Euhius Euan,[G]following whomThe other Seasons with their winds appear,Volturnus thundering on high, and AusterTerrible with its lightnings. Then at lengthDecember brings snow and renews numb frost.Winter follows with teeth chattering for cold.Wherefore it seems less wonderful that the moonShould be begotten and destroyed againAt fixed times, seeing that so many thingsCan come to pass at times so surely fixed.Likewise the occultations of the sunAnd the moon’s vanishings you must supposeMay be produced by many different causes.For why should the moon be able to shut outThe earth from the sun’s light, and lift her headOn high to obstruct him from the earthward side,Blocking his fiery beams with her dark orb,And yet at the same time some other bodyGliding on without light continuallyShould be supposed unable to do this?Why too should not the sun at a fixed timeGrow faint and lose his fires, and then againRevive his light, when he has had to passThrough tracts of air so hostile to his flamesThat awhile his fires are quenched by them and perish?And why should the earth have power in turn to robThe moon of light, and likewise keep the sunSuppressed, while in her monthly course the moonGlides through the clear-cut shadows of the cone,And yet at the same time some other bodyShould not have power to pass under the moon,Or glide above the sun’s orb, breaking offThe beams of light he sheds? And furthermore,If the moon shines with her own radiance,Why in a certain region of the worldMight she not grow faint, while she makes her wayThrough tracts that are unfriendly to her light?Now since I have demonstrated how each thingMight come to pass throughout the azure spacesOf the great heaven, how we may know what forceCan cause the varying motions of the sun,And wanderings of the moon, and in what wayTheir light being intercepted they might vanishCovering with darkness the astonished earth,When as it were they close their eye of light,And opening it again, survey all placesRadiant with shining brightness,—therefore nowI will go back to the world’s infancyAnd the tender age of the world’s fields, and showWhat in their first fecundity they resolvedTo raise into the borders of the lightAnd give in charge unto the wayward winds.In the beginning the Earth brought forth all kindsOf plants and growing verdure on hillsidesAnd over all the plains: the flowering meadowsShone with green colour: next to the various treesWas given a mighty emulous impulseTo shoot up into the air with unchecked growth.As feathers, hairs and bristles first are bornOn limbs of quadrupeds and on the bodiesOf winged fowl, so the new Earth then put forthGrasses and brushwood first, and afterwardsGave birth to all the breeds of mortal things,That sprang up many in number, in many modesAnd divers fashions. For no animalsCan have dropped from the sky, nor can land-creaturesHave issued from the salt pools. Hence it isThat with good reason the Earth has won the nameOf Mother, since from the Earth all things are born.And many living creatures even nowRise from the soil, formed by rains, and the sun’sFierce heat. Therefore the less strange it appearsIf then they arose more numerous and more largeFostered by a new earth and atmosphere.So first of all the varied familiesAnd tribes of birds would leave their eggs, hatched outIn the spring season, as now the cicadasIn summer-time leave of their own accordTheir filmy skins in search of food and life.Then was the time when first the Earth producedThe race of mortal men. For in the fieldsPlenteous heat and moisture would abound,So that wherever a fit place occurred,Wombs would grow, fastened to the earth by roots:And when the warmth of the infants in due time,Avoiding moisture and demanding air,Had broken these wombs open, then would NatureTurn to that place the porous ducts of the Earth,Compelling it to exude through open veinsA milk-like liquid, just as nowadaysAfter child-bearing every woman is filledWith sweet milk; for with her too the whole flowOf nutriment sets streaming towards her breasts.Earth to these children furnished food, the heatClothing, the grass a bed, well lined with richLuxuriance of soft down. Moreover thenThe world in its fresh newness would give riseNeither to rigorous cold nor extreme heat,Nor violent storms of wind, for in a likeProportion all things grow and gather strength.Therefore again and yet again I sayThat with good reason the Earth has won and keepsThe name of Mother, since she of herselfGave birth to humankind, and at a periodWell nigh determined shed forth every beastThat roams o’er the great mountains far and wide,Likewise the birds of air, many in shape.But because she must have some limit setTo her time of bearing, she ceased, like a womanWorn out by lapse of years. For Time transformsThe whole world’s nature, and all things must passFrom one condition to another: nothingContinues like itself. All is in flux:Nature is ever changing and compellingAll that exists to alter. For one thingMoulders and wastes away grown weak with age,And then another comes forth into light,Issuing from obscurity. So thus TimeChanges the whole world’s nature, and the EarthPasses from one condition to another:So that what once it bore it can no longer,And now can bear what it did not before.And many monsters too did the Earth essayTo produce in those days, creatures arisingWith marvellous face and limbs, the Hermaphrodite,A thing of neither sex, between the two,Differing from both: some things deprived of feet;Others again with no hands; others dumbWithout mouths, or else blind for lack of eyes,Or bound by limbs that everywhere adheredFast to their bodies, so that they could performNo function, nor go anywhere, nor shunDanger, nor take what their need might require.Many such monstrous prodigies did EarthProduce, in vain, since Nature banned their increase,Nor could they reach the coveted flower of age,Nor find food, nor be joined in bonds of love.For we see numerous conditions firstMust meet together, before living thingsCan beget and perpetuate their kind.First they must have food, then a means by whichThe seeds of birth may stream throughout the frameFrom the relaxed limbs; also that the maleAnd female may unite, they must have thatWhereby each may exchange mutual joys.And many breeds of creatures in those daysMust have died out, being powerless to begetAnd perpetuate their kind. For those which nowYou see breathing the breath of life, ’tis craft,Or courage, or else speed, that from its originMust have protected and preserved each race.Moreover many by their usefulnessCommended to us, continue to existFavoured by our protection. The fierce breedOf lions first, and the other savage beasts,Their courage has preserved, foxes their craft,Stags their swift flight. But the light-slumbering heartsOf faithful dogs, and the whole familyBorn from the seed of burden-bearing beasts,Also the woolly flocks and horned herds,All these by man’s protection are preserved.For their desire has always been to shunWild beasts and to live peaceably, suppliedWithout toil of their own with food in plenty,Which to reward their services we give them.But those whom Nature has not thus endowedWith power either to live by their own meansOr else to render us such useful serviceThat in return we allow their race to feedAnd dwell in safety beneath our guardianship,All these, ’tis plain, would lie exposed a preyTo others, trammelled in their own fatal bonds,Till Nature had extinguished that whole kind.But Centaurs there have never been, nor yetEver can things exist of twofold natureAnd double body moulded into oneFrom limbs of alien kind, whose facultiesAnd functions cannot be on either sideSufficiently alike. That this is so,The dullest intellect may be thus convinced.Consider first that a horse after three yearsIs in his flower of vigour, but a boyBy no means so: for often in sleep even thenWill he seek milk still from his mother’s breastsAfterwards, when the horse’s lusty strengthFails him in old age, and his limbs grow languidAs life ebbs, then first for a boy beginsThe flowering time of youth, and clothes his cheeksWith soft down. Do not then believe that everFrom man’s and burden-bearing horse’s seedCentaurs can be compounded and have being;Nor yet Scyllas with half-fish bodies girdledWith raging dogs, and other suchlike things,Whose limbs we see discordant with themselves,Since neither do they reach their flower together,Nor acquire bodily strength, nor in old ageLose it at the same time: dissimilarIn each the love that burns them, and their modesOf life incongruous: nor do the same things giveTheir bodies pleasure. Thus we may often seeBearded goats thrive on hemlock, which for manIs virulent poison. Since moreover flameIs wont to scorch and burn the tawny bodiesOf lions no less than every other kindOf flesh and blood on earth, how could it beThat one, yet with a triple body, in frontA lion, behind a serpent, in the midstIts goat’s self, a Chimaera should breathe forthFrom such a body fierce flame at the mouth?Therefore he who can fable that when earthWas new and the sky young, such animalsCould have been propagated, resting aloneUpon this vain term, newness, he no doubtWill babble out many follies in like fashion,Will say that rivers then throughout the earthCommonly flowed with gold, that trees were wontTo bloom with jewels, or that man was bornOf such huge bulk and force that he could wadeWith giant strides across deep seas and turnThe whole heaven round about him with his hands.For the fact that there were many seeds of thingsWithin the earth at that time when it firstShed living creatures forth, is yet no proofThat beasts could have been born of mingled kinds,Or limbs of different animals joined together;Because the various families of plants,The crops and thriving trees, which even nowTeem upward from the soil luxuriantly,Can yet never be born woven together;But each thing has its own process of growth:All must preserve their mutual differences,Governed by Nature’s irreversible law.But that first race of men in the open fieldsWas hardier far, (small wonder, since hard EarthHad brought it forth,) built too around a frameOf bones more large and solid, knit togetherBy powerful sinews; nor was it easilyImpaired by heat or cold, nor by strange foods,Nor yet by any bodily disease.And during many revolving periodsOf the sun through the sky, they lived their livesAfter the roving habit of wild beasts.No one was then the bent plough’s stalwart guide,None yet had knowledge how to till the fieldsWith iron, or plant young saplings in the soil,Nor how to lop old boughs from the tall treesWith pruning-hooks. What suns and rains had given,What of her own free will Earth had brought forth,Was enough bounty to content their hearts.’Neath acorn-bearing oak-trees their wont wasTo alleviate their hunger; and those berriesWhich now upon the arbutus you seeRipening to scarlet hues in winter-time,The Earth then bore more plentifully and largerThan in these days. Moreover then the world’sLuxuriant youth gave birth to many kindsOf coarse food, ample enough for wretched men.But to allay their thirst rivers and springsInvited, as now waters, tumbling downFrom the great mountains with clear-sounding plash,Summon from far the thirsting tribes of beasts.Furthermore in their roamings they would visitThose renowned silvan precincts of the Nymphs,Caverns wherefrom they knew that copious streams,Gushing forth smoothly, bathed the dripping rocks,(The dripping rocks, o’er green moss trickling down,)Or sometimes welled up over the level plain.As yet they knew not how to employ fire,Or to make use of skins, and clothe their bodiesWith spoils of wild beasts; but inhabitingWoods, mountains, caves and forests, they would shelterTheir squalid limbs in thickets, when compelledTo shun the buffeting of winds and rains.No regard could they have to a general good,Nor did they know how to make use in commonOf any laws or customs. WhatsoeverFortune might set before him, that would eachTake as his prize, cunning to thrive and liveAs best might please him, each one for himself.And in the woods Venus would join the bodiesOf lovers, whether a mutual desire,Or the man’s violence and vehement lustHad won the woman over, or a bribeOf acorns, arbute-berries or choice pears.Endowed with marvellous strength of hands and feetThey chased the forest-roaming tribes of beasts;And many with flung stones and ponderous clubThey overcame, some few they would avoidIn hiding-places. And like bristly swineJust as they were they flung their savage limbsNaked upon the ground, when night o’ertook them,Enveloping themselves with leaves and boughs.Nor did they call for daylight and the sunWandering terror-stricken about the fieldsWith loud wails through the shadows of the night,But silently, buried in sleep they layWaiting until the sun with rosy torchBrought light into the sky. For since from childhoodThey had been wont to see darkness and lightAlternately begotten without fail,Never could they feel wonder or misgivingLest night eternal should possess the earthAnd the sun’s light for ever be withdrawn.But ’twas a worse anxiety that wild beastsOften made sleep unsafe for these poor wretches.For driven from their homes in sheltering rocksThey fled at the entrance of a foaming boarOr strong lion, yielding up at dead of nightTheir leaf-strewn beds in panic to fierce guests.Yet no more often in those days than nowWould mortal men leave the sweet light of lifeWith lamentation. Each one by himselfWould doubtless be more likely then than nowTo be seized and devoured by wild beasts’ teeth,A living food, and with his groans would fillMountains and forests, while he saw his ownLive flesh in a live monument entombed.But those whom flight had saved with mangled body,From that time forth would hold their trembling handsOver their noisome scars, with dreadful criesInvoking death, till agonising throesRid them of life, with none to give them aid,Ignorant of what wounds required. But thenA single day did not consign to deathThousands on thousands, marshalled beneath standards,Nor did the turbulent waters of the deepShatter upon the rocks both ships and men.At that time vainly, without aim or resultThe sea would often rise up and turmoil;Nor could the winsome wiles of the calm deepLure men on treacherously with laughing waves,While reckless seamanship was yet unknown.Moreover lack of food would then consignTheir fainting limbs to death: now rather plentySinks men to ruin. Often for themselvesWould they pour poison out unwittingly:To others now with subtler skill they give it.
Thus then the earth’s ponderous mass was formedWith close-packed body, and all the slime of the worldSlid to the lowest plane by its own weight,And at the bottom settled down like dregs.Then the sea, then the air, then the fire-ladenAether itself, all these were now left pureWith liquid bodies. Some indeed are lighterThan others, and most liquid and light of allOver the airy currents aether floats,Not blending with the turbulent atmosphereIts liquid substance. All below, it suffersTo be embroiled by violent hurricanes,Suffers all to be tossed with wayward storms,While itself gliding on with changeless sweepBears its own fires along. For, that the aetherMay stream on steadily with one impulse,The Pontos demonstrates, that sea which streamsWith an unchanging tide, unceasinglyPreserving as it glides one constant pace.
Now let us sing what cause could set the starsIn motion. First, if the great globe of heavenRevolves, then we must needs maintain that airPresses upon the axis at each end,And holds it from outside, closing it inAt both poles; also that there streams aboveAnother current, moving the same way,In which the stars of the eternal worldRoll glittering onward; or else that beneathThere is another stream, that drives the sphereUpwards the opposite way, just as we seeRivers turn mill-wheels with their water-scoops.It likewise may well be that the whole skyRemains at rest, yet that the shining signsAre carried onwards; either because within themAre shut swift tides of aether, that whirl roundSeeking a way out, and so roll their firesOn all sides through the sky’s nocturnal mansions;Or else that from some other source outsideAn air-stream whirls and drives the fires along;Or else they may be gliding of themselves,Moving whithersoever the food of eachCalls and invites them, nourishing everywhereTheir flaming bodies throughout the whole sky.For it is hard to affirm with certaintyWhich of these causes operates in this world:But what throughout the universe both canAnd does take place in various worlds, createdOn various plans, this I teach, and proceedTo expound what divers causes may existThrough the universe for the motion of the stars:And one of these in our world too must beThe cause which to the heavenly signs impartsTheir motive vigour: but dogmaticallyTo assert which this may be, is in no wiseThe function of those advancing step by step.
Now in order that the earth should be at restIn the world’s midst, it would seem probableThat its weight gradually diminishingShould disappear, and that the earth should haveAnother nature underneath, conjoinedAnd blent in union from its earliest ageWith those aerial portions of the worldWherein it lives embodied. For this causeIt is no burden, nor weighs down the air,Just as to a man his own limbs are no weight,Nor is the head a burden to the neck,Nor do we feel that the whole body’s weightRests on the feet: yet a much smaller burdenLaid on us from outside, will often hurt us.Of such great moment is it what each thing’sFunction may be. Thus then the earth is notAn alien body intruded suddenly,Nor thrust from elsewhere into an alien air,But was conceived together with the worldAt its first birth as a fixed portion of it,Just as our limbs are seen to be of us.Moreover the earth, when shaken suddenlyWith violent thunder, by its trembling shakesAll that is over it; which in no wiseCould happen, if it were not closely boundWith the world’s airy parts, and with the sky.For they all, as though by common roots, cohereOne with another, from their earliest ageConjoined and blent in union. See you not tooThat heavy as our body’s weight may be,Yet the soul’s force, though subtle exceedingly,Sustains it, being so closely joined and blentIn union with it? Also what has powerTo lift the body with a nimble leap,Except the mind’s force that controls the limbs?Do you not now perceive how great the powerMay be of a subtle nature, when ’tis joinedWith a heavy body, even as with the earthThe air is joined, and the mind’s force with us?
Also the sun’s disk cannot be much larger,Nor its heat be much less, than to our senseThey appear to be. For from whatever distanceFires can fling light, and breathe upon our limbsTheir warming heat, these intervening spacesTake away nothing from the body of flame;The fire is not shrunken visibly.So since the sun’s heat and the light it shedsBoth reach our senses and caress our limbs,The form also and contour of the sunMust needs be seen from the earth in their true scale,With neither addition nor diminishment.Also the moon, whether it moves alongIlluminating earth with borrowed light,Or throws out its own rays from its own body,Howe’er that be, moves with a shape no largerThan seems that shape which our eyes contemplate.For all things which we look at from far offThrough much air, seem to our vision to grow dimBefore their contours lessen. Therefore the moon,Seeing that it presents a clear aspectAnd definite shape, must needs by us on earthBe seen on high in its defining outlineJust as it is, and of its actual size.Lastly consider all those fires of aetherYou see from the earth. Since fires, which here belowWe observe, for so long as their flickeringRemains distinct, and their heat is perceived,Are sometimes seen to change their size to lessOr greater to some very slight extentAccording to their distance, you may thenceKnow that the fires of aether can be smallerOnly by infinitesimal degrees,Or larger by the tiniest minute fraction.
This also is not wonderful, how the sunSmall as it is, can shed so great a light,As with its flood to fill all seas and landsAnd sky, with warm heat bathing everything.For from this spot perhaps a single wellFor the whole world may open and gush out,Shooting forth an abundant stream of light,Because from everywhere throughout the worldIn such wise do the particles of heatGather together, and their united massConverges in such wise, that blazing fireStreams forth here from a single fountain-head.See you not too how wide a meadow-landOne little spring of water sometimes floods,Overflowing whole fields? It may be alsoThat from the sun’s flame, though it be not great,Heat pervades the whole air with scorching fires,Should the air chance to be susceptibleAnd ready to be kindled, when it is struckBy tiny heat-rays. Then we sometimes seeA wide-spread conflagration from one sparkCatch fields of corn or stubble. Perhaps tooThe sun shining on high with ruddy torchMay be surrounded by much fire and heatsInvisible, fire which no radianceReveals, but laden with heat it does no moreThan reinforce the stroke of the sun’s rays.
Nor is there any single theory,Certain and obvious, of how the sunOut of his summer stations passing forthApproaches the midwinter turning-pointOf Capricorn, and how coming back thenceHe bends his course to the solstitial goalOf Cancer; then too how the moon is seenTo traverse every month that space, whereonThe journeying sun spends a year’s period.For these events, I say, no single causeCan be assigned. It seems most probableThat the august opinion of DemocritusShould be the truth; the nearer to the earthThe several constellations move, the lessCan they be borne on with the whirl of heaven:For in the lower portions of this whirlHe says its speed and energy diminishAnd disappear; so that little by littleThe sun is outstripped by the signs that follow,Since he is far beneath the burning stars.And the moon, so he says, more than the sun.The lower and the further from the skyHer course is, and the nearer to the earth,The less can she keep even with the signs.For the more languid is the whirl wherebyShe is borne along, being lower than the sun,The more do all the signs around her pathOvertake and pass by her. Thus it isThat she seems to move backward to each signMore quickly, because the signs come up to her.It may be also that two streams of airCross the sun’s path at fixed times, each in turnFlowing from opposite quarters of the world,Whereof the first may thrust the sun awayOut of the summer signs, until he comesTo his winter turning-point and the icy frost;While the other from the freezing shades of coldSweeps him right back to the heat-laden regionsAnd the torrid constellations. And just soWe must suppose that the moon and the planets,Which roll in their huge orbits through huge years,May move on streams of air alternatelyFrom opposite quarters. Do you not also seeHow clouds are shifted by opposing winds,The lower in directions contraryTo those above? Why should not yonder starsBe likewise carried by opposing currentsUpon their mighty orbits through the sky?But night covers the earth with vast darknessEither when after his long course the sunHas entered on the uttermost parts of heaven,And now grown languid has breathed forth his fires,Exhausted by their journey, and worn outBy traversing much air; or else becauseThat same force which has borne his orb alongAbove the earth, compels him now to turnBackward his course and pass beneath the earth.
Likewise at a fixed time Matuta spreadsThe rosy dawn abroad through the sky’s borders,And opens out her light; either becauseThe same sun, travelling back below the earth,Seizes the sky beforehand, and is fainTo kindle it with his rays; or else becauseFires meet together, and many seeds of heatAre wont at a fixed time to stream togetherCausing new sunlight each day to be born.Even so ’tis told that from the mountain heightsOf Ida at daybreak scattered fires are seen;These then unite as if into one globeAnd make up the sun’s orb. Nor yet hereinShould it cause wonder that these seeds of fireCan stream together at a time so fixed,Repairing thus the radiance of the sun.For everywhere we see many eventsHappening at fixed times. Thus trees both flowerAnd shed their blossoms at fixed times; and ageAt a time no less fixed bids the teeth drop,And the boy clothe his features with the downOf puberty, and let a soft beard fallFrom either cheek. Lastly lightning and snow,Rains, clouds and winds happen at more or lessRegular yearly seasons. For where causesFrom the beginning have remained the same,And things from the first origin of the worldHave so fallen out, they still repeat themselvesIn regular sequence after a fixed order.
The cause too why days lengthen and nights wane,While daylight shortens as the nights increase,May either be because the same sun, journeyingUnderneath and above the earth in curvesOf unlike length, parts the celestial regionsAnd into unequal halves divides his orbit:Whatever he has subtracted from one half,Just so much does he add, when he comes round,On to the other half, till he has reachedThat sign of heaven where the year’s node makesThe night’s shade equal to the light of day.For in the sun’s mid course between the blastsOf south wind and of north, the heaven holdsHis turning-points apart at distancesNow equalised, since such is the positionOf the whole starry circle, to glide through whichThe sun takes up the period of a year,Lighting the earth and sky with slanting rays,As is shown by the arguments of thoseWho have mapped out all the quarters of the sky,Adorned with their twelve signs spaced out in order.Or else because the air in certain partsIs thicker, therefore the trembling lamp of fireIs hindered in its course beneath the earth,And cannot easily force a passage throughAnd emerge at the place where it should rise.So in winter-time the nights are long and lingering,Ere the day’s radiant oriflamme comes forth.Or else again those fires which cause the sunTo rise from a fixed point, for a like reasonAre wont to stream together slower or quickerIn alternating periods of the year.So those would seem to speak the truth who holdThat every morning a new sun is born.It may be the moon shines because she is struckBy the sun’s rays, and turns towards our eyesA larger portion of this light each day,The further she recedes from the sun’s orb,Until over against him with full lightShe has shone forth, and as she rises upHas looked upon his setting from on high.Thereafter in her gradual backward courseIn the same manner she must hide her light,The nearer she now glides to the sun’s fireTravelling through the circle of the signsFrom an opposite direction: as those holdWho fancy that the moon is like a ball,And moves along a course below the sun.It is also possible that she revolvesWith her own light, and yet shows varyingPhases of brightness: for there may well beAnother body which glides on beside her,Obstructing and occulting her continually,And yet cannot be seen, because it movesWithout light. Or perhaps she may turn roundLike a ball, let us say, whose sphere is tingedWith glowing light over one-half its surface;And as she turns her sphere, she may presentVarying phases, till she has turned that sideWhich glows with fire towards our gazing eyes;Then she twists gradually back once moreAnd hides the luminous half of her round ball:As the Chaldean sages seek to prove,Refuting with their Babylonian doctrineThe opposing science of the astronomers;Just as though what each sect is fighting forMight not be true, or there were any reasonWhy you should risk embracing the one creedLess than the other. Again why every timeThere should not be created a fresh moon,With fixed succession of phases and fixed shapes,So that each day this new-created moonWould perish, and another in its steadBe reproduced, this were no easy taskTo prove by argument convincingly,Since there can be so many things createdIn fixed succession. Thus Spring goes its way,And Venus, and the wingèd harbingerOf Venus leads them on; while treading closeOn Zephyr’s footsteps, mother Flora strewsThe path before them, covering it all overWith every loveliest colour and rich scent.Next in procession follows parching heat,With dusty Ceres in its company,And the Etesian blasts of the North winds.After these Autumn comes, and by its sideAdvances Euhius Euan,[G]following whomThe other Seasons with their winds appear,Volturnus thundering on high, and AusterTerrible with its lightnings. Then at lengthDecember brings snow and renews numb frost.Winter follows with teeth chattering for cold.Wherefore it seems less wonderful that the moonShould be begotten and destroyed againAt fixed times, seeing that so many thingsCan come to pass at times so surely fixed.
Likewise the occultations of the sunAnd the moon’s vanishings you must supposeMay be produced by many different causes.For why should the moon be able to shut outThe earth from the sun’s light, and lift her headOn high to obstruct him from the earthward side,Blocking his fiery beams with her dark orb,And yet at the same time some other bodyGliding on without light continuallyShould be supposed unable to do this?Why too should not the sun at a fixed timeGrow faint and lose his fires, and then againRevive his light, when he has had to passThrough tracts of air so hostile to his flamesThat awhile his fires are quenched by them and perish?And why should the earth have power in turn to robThe moon of light, and likewise keep the sunSuppressed, while in her monthly course the moonGlides through the clear-cut shadows of the cone,And yet at the same time some other bodyShould not have power to pass under the moon,Or glide above the sun’s orb, breaking offThe beams of light he sheds? And furthermore,If the moon shines with her own radiance,Why in a certain region of the worldMight she not grow faint, while she makes her wayThrough tracts that are unfriendly to her light?
Now since I have demonstrated how each thingMight come to pass throughout the azure spacesOf the great heaven, how we may know what forceCan cause the varying motions of the sun,And wanderings of the moon, and in what wayTheir light being intercepted they might vanishCovering with darkness the astonished earth,When as it were they close their eye of light,And opening it again, survey all placesRadiant with shining brightness,—therefore nowI will go back to the world’s infancyAnd the tender age of the world’s fields, and showWhat in their first fecundity they resolvedTo raise into the borders of the lightAnd give in charge unto the wayward winds.
In the beginning the Earth brought forth all kindsOf plants and growing verdure on hillsidesAnd over all the plains: the flowering meadowsShone with green colour: next to the various treesWas given a mighty emulous impulseTo shoot up into the air with unchecked growth.As feathers, hairs and bristles first are bornOn limbs of quadrupeds and on the bodiesOf winged fowl, so the new Earth then put forthGrasses and brushwood first, and afterwardsGave birth to all the breeds of mortal things,That sprang up many in number, in many modesAnd divers fashions. For no animalsCan have dropped from the sky, nor can land-creaturesHave issued from the salt pools. Hence it isThat with good reason the Earth has won the nameOf Mother, since from the Earth all things are born.And many living creatures even nowRise from the soil, formed by rains, and the sun’sFierce heat. Therefore the less strange it appearsIf then they arose more numerous and more largeFostered by a new earth and atmosphere.So first of all the varied familiesAnd tribes of birds would leave their eggs, hatched outIn the spring season, as now the cicadasIn summer-time leave of their own accordTheir filmy skins in search of food and life.Then was the time when first the Earth producedThe race of mortal men. For in the fieldsPlenteous heat and moisture would abound,So that wherever a fit place occurred,Wombs would grow, fastened to the earth by roots:And when the warmth of the infants in due time,Avoiding moisture and demanding air,Had broken these wombs open, then would NatureTurn to that place the porous ducts of the Earth,Compelling it to exude through open veinsA milk-like liquid, just as nowadaysAfter child-bearing every woman is filledWith sweet milk; for with her too the whole flowOf nutriment sets streaming towards her breasts.Earth to these children furnished food, the heatClothing, the grass a bed, well lined with richLuxuriance of soft down. Moreover thenThe world in its fresh newness would give riseNeither to rigorous cold nor extreme heat,Nor violent storms of wind, for in a likeProportion all things grow and gather strength.
Therefore again and yet again I sayThat with good reason the Earth has won and keepsThe name of Mother, since she of herselfGave birth to humankind, and at a periodWell nigh determined shed forth every beastThat roams o’er the great mountains far and wide,Likewise the birds of air, many in shape.But because she must have some limit setTo her time of bearing, she ceased, like a womanWorn out by lapse of years. For Time transformsThe whole world’s nature, and all things must passFrom one condition to another: nothingContinues like itself. All is in flux:Nature is ever changing and compellingAll that exists to alter. For one thingMoulders and wastes away grown weak with age,And then another comes forth into light,Issuing from obscurity. So thus TimeChanges the whole world’s nature, and the EarthPasses from one condition to another:So that what once it bore it can no longer,And now can bear what it did not before.
And many monsters too did the Earth essayTo produce in those days, creatures arisingWith marvellous face and limbs, the Hermaphrodite,A thing of neither sex, between the two,Differing from both: some things deprived of feet;Others again with no hands; others dumbWithout mouths, or else blind for lack of eyes,Or bound by limbs that everywhere adheredFast to their bodies, so that they could performNo function, nor go anywhere, nor shunDanger, nor take what their need might require.Many such monstrous prodigies did EarthProduce, in vain, since Nature banned their increase,Nor could they reach the coveted flower of age,Nor find food, nor be joined in bonds of love.For we see numerous conditions firstMust meet together, before living thingsCan beget and perpetuate their kind.First they must have food, then a means by whichThe seeds of birth may stream throughout the frameFrom the relaxed limbs; also that the maleAnd female may unite, they must have thatWhereby each may exchange mutual joys.
And many breeds of creatures in those daysMust have died out, being powerless to begetAnd perpetuate their kind. For those which nowYou see breathing the breath of life, ’tis craft,Or courage, or else speed, that from its originMust have protected and preserved each race.Moreover many by their usefulnessCommended to us, continue to existFavoured by our protection. The fierce breedOf lions first, and the other savage beasts,Their courage has preserved, foxes their craft,Stags their swift flight. But the light-slumbering heartsOf faithful dogs, and the whole familyBorn from the seed of burden-bearing beasts,Also the woolly flocks and horned herds,All these by man’s protection are preserved.For their desire has always been to shunWild beasts and to live peaceably, suppliedWithout toil of their own with food in plenty,Which to reward their services we give them.But those whom Nature has not thus endowedWith power either to live by their own meansOr else to render us such useful serviceThat in return we allow their race to feedAnd dwell in safety beneath our guardianship,All these, ’tis plain, would lie exposed a preyTo others, trammelled in their own fatal bonds,Till Nature had extinguished that whole kind.
But Centaurs there have never been, nor yetEver can things exist of twofold natureAnd double body moulded into oneFrom limbs of alien kind, whose facultiesAnd functions cannot be on either sideSufficiently alike. That this is so,The dullest intellect may be thus convinced.Consider first that a horse after three yearsIs in his flower of vigour, but a boyBy no means so: for often in sleep even thenWill he seek milk still from his mother’s breastsAfterwards, when the horse’s lusty strengthFails him in old age, and his limbs grow languidAs life ebbs, then first for a boy beginsThe flowering time of youth, and clothes his cheeksWith soft down. Do not then believe that everFrom man’s and burden-bearing horse’s seedCentaurs can be compounded and have being;Nor yet Scyllas with half-fish bodies girdledWith raging dogs, and other suchlike things,Whose limbs we see discordant with themselves,Since neither do they reach their flower together,Nor acquire bodily strength, nor in old ageLose it at the same time: dissimilarIn each the love that burns them, and their modesOf life incongruous: nor do the same things giveTheir bodies pleasure. Thus we may often seeBearded goats thrive on hemlock, which for manIs virulent poison. Since moreover flameIs wont to scorch and burn the tawny bodiesOf lions no less than every other kindOf flesh and blood on earth, how could it beThat one, yet with a triple body, in frontA lion, behind a serpent, in the midstIts goat’s self, a Chimaera should breathe forthFrom such a body fierce flame at the mouth?Therefore he who can fable that when earthWas new and the sky young, such animalsCould have been propagated, resting aloneUpon this vain term, newness, he no doubtWill babble out many follies in like fashion,Will say that rivers then throughout the earthCommonly flowed with gold, that trees were wontTo bloom with jewels, or that man was bornOf such huge bulk and force that he could wadeWith giant strides across deep seas and turnThe whole heaven round about him with his hands.For the fact that there were many seeds of thingsWithin the earth at that time when it firstShed living creatures forth, is yet no proofThat beasts could have been born of mingled kinds,Or limbs of different animals joined together;Because the various families of plants,The crops and thriving trees, which even nowTeem upward from the soil luxuriantly,Can yet never be born woven together;But each thing has its own process of growth:All must preserve their mutual differences,Governed by Nature’s irreversible law.
But that first race of men in the open fieldsWas hardier far, (small wonder, since hard EarthHad brought it forth,) built too around a frameOf bones more large and solid, knit togetherBy powerful sinews; nor was it easilyImpaired by heat or cold, nor by strange foods,Nor yet by any bodily disease.And during many revolving periodsOf the sun through the sky, they lived their livesAfter the roving habit of wild beasts.No one was then the bent plough’s stalwart guide,None yet had knowledge how to till the fieldsWith iron, or plant young saplings in the soil,Nor how to lop old boughs from the tall treesWith pruning-hooks. What suns and rains had given,What of her own free will Earth had brought forth,Was enough bounty to content their hearts.’Neath acorn-bearing oak-trees their wont wasTo alleviate their hunger; and those berriesWhich now upon the arbutus you seeRipening to scarlet hues in winter-time,The Earth then bore more plentifully and largerThan in these days. Moreover then the world’sLuxuriant youth gave birth to many kindsOf coarse food, ample enough for wretched men.But to allay their thirst rivers and springsInvited, as now waters, tumbling downFrom the great mountains with clear-sounding plash,Summon from far the thirsting tribes of beasts.Furthermore in their roamings they would visitThose renowned silvan precincts of the Nymphs,Caverns wherefrom they knew that copious streams,Gushing forth smoothly, bathed the dripping rocks,(The dripping rocks, o’er green moss trickling down,)Or sometimes welled up over the level plain.As yet they knew not how to employ fire,Or to make use of skins, and clothe their bodiesWith spoils of wild beasts; but inhabitingWoods, mountains, caves and forests, they would shelterTheir squalid limbs in thickets, when compelledTo shun the buffeting of winds and rains.No regard could they have to a general good,Nor did they know how to make use in commonOf any laws or customs. WhatsoeverFortune might set before him, that would eachTake as his prize, cunning to thrive and liveAs best might please him, each one for himself.And in the woods Venus would join the bodiesOf lovers, whether a mutual desire,Or the man’s violence and vehement lustHad won the woman over, or a bribeOf acorns, arbute-berries or choice pears.Endowed with marvellous strength of hands and feetThey chased the forest-roaming tribes of beasts;And many with flung stones and ponderous clubThey overcame, some few they would avoidIn hiding-places. And like bristly swineJust as they were they flung their savage limbsNaked upon the ground, when night o’ertook them,Enveloping themselves with leaves and boughs.Nor did they call for daylight and the sunWandering terror-stricken about the fieldsWith loud wails through the shadows of the night,But silently, buried in sleep they layWaiting until the sun with rosy torchBrought light into the sky. For since from childhoodThey had been wont to see darkness and lightAlternately begotten without fail,Never could they feel wonder or misgivingLest night eternal should possess the earthAnd the sun’s light for ever be withdrawn.But ’twas a worse anxiety that wild beastsOften made sleep unsafe for these poor wretches.For driven from their homes in sheltering rocksThey fled at the entrance of a foaming boarOr strong lion, yielding up at dead of nightTheir leaf-strewn beds in panic to fierce guests.Yet no more often in those days than nowWould mortal men leave the sweet light of lifeWith lamentation. Each one by himselfWould doubtless be more likely then than nowTo be seized and devoured by wild beasts’ teeth,A living food, and with his groans would fillMountains and forests, while he saw his ownLive flesh in a live monument entombed.But those whom flight had saved with mangled body,From that time forth would hold their trembling handsOver their noisome scars, with dreadful criesInvoking death, till agonising throesRid them of life, with none to give them aid,Ignorant of what wounds required. But thenA single day did not consign to deathThousands on thousands, marshalled beneath standards,Nor did the turbulent waters of the deepShatter upon the rocks both ships and men.At that time vainly, without aim or resultThe sea would often rise up and turmoil;Nor could the winsome wiles of the calm deepLure men on treacherously with laughing waves,While reckless seamanship was yet unknown.Moreover lack of food would then consignTheir fainting limbs to death: now rather plentySinks men to ruin. Often for themselvesWould they pour poison out unwittingly:To others now with subtler skill they give it.