PROEM
O who can build with puissant breast a songWorthy the majesty of these great finds?Or who in words so strong that he can frameThe fit laudations for deserts of himWho left us heritors of such vast prizes,By his own breast discovered and sought out?-There shall be none, methinks, of mortal stock.For if must needs be named for him the nameDemanded by the now known majestyOf these high matters, then a god was he,-Hear me, illustrious Memmius- a god;Who first and chief found out that plan of lifeWhich now is called philosophy, and whoBy cunning craft, out of such mighty waves,Out of such mighty darkness, moored lifeIn havens so serene, in light so clear.Compare those old discoveries divineOf others: lo, according to the tale,Ceres established for mortalityThe grain, and Bacchus juice of vine-born grape,Though life might yet without these things abide,Even as report saith now some peoples live.But man's well-being was impossibleWithout a breast all free. Wherefore the moreThat man doth justly seem to us a god,From whom sweet solaces of life, afarDistributed o'er populous domains,Now soothe the minds of men. But if thou thinkestLabours of Hercules excel the same,Much farther from true reasoning thou farest.For what could hurt us now that mighty mawOf Nemeaean Lion, or what the BoarWho bristled in Arcadia? Or, again,O what could Cretan Bull, or Hydra, pestOf Lerna, fenced with vipers venomous?Or what the triple-breasted power of herThe three-fold Geryon...The sojourners in the Stymphalian fensSo dreadfully offend us, or the SteedsOf Thracian Diomedes breathing fireFrom out their nostrils off along the zonesBistonian and Ismarian? And the Snake,The dread fierce gazer, guardian of the goldenAnd gleaming apples of the Hesperides,Coiled round the tree-trunk with tremendous bulk,O what, again, could he inflict on usAlong the Atlantic shore and wastes of sea?-Where neither one of us approacheth nighNor no barbarian ventures. And the restOf all those monsters slain, even if alive,Unconquered still, what injury could they do?None, as I guess. For so the glutted earthSwarms even now with savage beasts, even nowIs filled with anxious terrors through the woodsAnd mighty mountains and the forest deeps-Quarters 'tis ours in general to avoid.But lest the breast be purged, what conflicts then,What perils, must bosom, in our own despite!O then how great and keen the cares of lustThat split the man distraught! How great the fears!And lo, the pride, grim greed, and wantonness-How great the slaughters in their train! and lo,Debaucheries and every breed of sloth!Therefore that man who subjugated these,And from the mind expelled, by words indeed,Not arms, O shall it not be seemly himTo dignify by ranking with the gods?-And all the more since he was wont to give,Concerning the immortal gods themselves,Many pronouncements with a tongue divine,And to unfold by his pronouncements allThe nature of the world.ARGUMENT OF THE BOOK AND NEW PROEM AGAINST A TELEOLOGICAL CONCEPT And walking nowIn his own footprints, I do follow throughHis reasonings, and with pronouncements teachThe covenant whereby all things are framed,How under that covenant they must abideNor ever prevail to abrogate the aeons'Inexorable decrees,- how (as we've found),In class of mortal objects, o'er all else,The mind exists of earth-born frame createAnd impotent unscathed to abideAcross the mighty aeons, and how comeIn sleep those idol-apparitions,That so befool intelligence when weDo seem to view a man whom life has left.Thus far we've gone; the order of my planHath brought me now unto the point where IMust make report how, too, the universeConsists of mortal body, born in time,And in what modes that congregated stuffEstablished itself as earth and sky,Ocean, and stars, and sun, and ball of moon;And then what living creatures rose from outThe old telluric places, and what onesWere never born at all; and in what modeThe human race began to name its thingsAnd use the varied speech from man to man;And in what modes hath bosomed in their breastsThat awe of gods, which halloweth in all landsFanes, altars, groves, lakes, idols of the gods.Also I shall untangle by what powerThe steersman nature guides the sun's courses,And the meanderings of the moon, lest we,Percase, should fancy that of own free willThey circle their perennial courses round,Timing their motions for increase of cropsAnd living creatures, or lest we should thinkThey roll along by any plan of gods.For even those men who have learned full wellThat godheads lead a long life free of care,If yet meanwhile they wonder by what planThings can go on (and chiefly yon high thingsObserved o'erhead on the ethereal coasts),Again are hurried back unto the fearsOf old religion and adopt againHarsh masters, deemed almighty,- wretched men,Unwitting what can be and what cannot,And by what law to each its scope prescribed,Its boundary stone that clings so deep in Time.
But for the rest,- lest we delay thee hereLonger by empty promises- behold,Before all else, the seas, the lands, the sky:O Memmius, their threefold nature, lo,Their bodies three, three aspects so unlike,Three frames so vast, a single day shall giveUnto annihilation! Then shall crashThat massive form and fabric of the worldSustained so many aeons! Nor do IFail to perceive how strange and marvellousThis fact must strike the intellect of man,-Annihilation of the sky and earthThat is to be,- and with what toil of words'Tis mine to prove the same; as happens oftWhen once ye offer to man's listening earsSomething before unheard of, but may notSubject it to the view of eyes for himNor put it into hand- the sight and touch,Whereby the opened highways of beliefLead most directly into human breastAnd regions of intelligence. But yetI will speak out. The fact itself, perchance,Will force belief in these my words, and thouMayst see, in little time, tremendouslyWith risen commotions of the lands all thingsQuaking to pieces- which afar from usMay she, the steersman Nature, guide: and mayReason, O rather than the fact itself,Persuade us that all things can be o'erthrownAnd sink with awful-sounding breakage down!
But ere on this I take a step to utterOracles holier and soundlier basedThan ever the Pythian pronounced for menFrom out the tripod and the Delphian laurel,I will unfold for thee with learned wordsMany a consolation, lest perchance,Still bridled by religion, thou supposeLands, sun, and sky, sea, constellations, moon,Must dure forever, as of frame divine-And so conclude that it is just that those,(After the manner of the Giants), should allPay the huge penalties for monstrous crime,Who by their reasonings do overshakeThe ramparts of the universe and wishThere to put out the splendid sun of heaven,Branding with mortal talk immortal things-Though these same things are even so far removedFrom any touch of deity and seemSo far unworthy of numbering with the gods,That well they may be thought to furnish ratherA goodly instance of the sort of thingsThat lack the living motion, living sense.For sure 'tis quite beside the mark to thinkThat judgment and the nature of the mindIn any kind of body can exist-Just as in ether can't exist a tree,Nor clouds in the salt sea, nor in the fieldsCan fishes live, nor blood in timber be,Nor sap in boulders: fixed and arrangedWhere everything may grow and have its place.Thus nature of mind cannot arise aloneWithout the body, nor have its being farFrom thews and blood. Yet if 'twere possible?-Much rather might this very power of mindBe in the head, the shoulders, or the heels,And, born in any part soever, yetIn the same man, in the same vessel abideBut since within this body even of oursStands fixed and appears arranged sureWhere soul and mind can each exist and grow,Deny we must the more that they can dureOutside the body and the breathing formIn rotting clods of earth, in the sun's fire,In water, or in ether's skiey coasts.Therefore these things no whit are furnishedWith sense divine, since never can they beWith life-force quickened.
Likewise, thou canst ne'erBelieve the sacred seats of gods are hereIn any regions of this mundane world;Indeed, the nature of the gods, so subtle,So far removed from these our senses, scarceIs seen even by intelligence of mind.And since they've ever eluded touch and thrustOf human hands, they cannot reach to graspAught tangible to us. For what may notItself be touched in turn can never touch.Wherefore, besides, also their seats must beUnlike these seats of ours,- even subtle too,As meet for subtle essence- as I'll proveHereafter unto thee with large discourse.Further, to say that for the sake of menThey willed to prepare this world's magnificence,And that 'tis therefore duty and behoofTo praise the work of gods as worthy praise,And that 'tis sacrilege for men to shakeEver by any force from out their seatsWhat hath been stablished by the Forethought oldTo everlasting for races of mankind,And that 'tis sacrilege to assault by wordsAnd overtopple all from base to beam,-Memmius, such notions to concoct and pile,Is verily- to dote. Our gratefulness,O what emoluments could it conferUpon Immortals and upon the BlessedThat they should take a step to manage aughtFor sake of us? Or what new factor could,After so long a time, inveigle them-The hitherto reposeful- to desireTo change their former life? For rather heWhom old things chafe seems likely to rejoiceAt new; but one that in fore-passed timeHath chanced upon no ill, through goodly years,O what could ever enkindle in such an onePassion for strange experiment? Or whatThe evil for us, if we had ne'er been born?-As though, forsooth, in darkling realms and woeOur life were lying till should dawn at lastThe day-spring of creation! WhosoeverHath been begotten wills perforce to stayIn life, so long as fond delight detains;But whoso ne'er hath tasted love of life,And ne'er was in the count of living things,What hurts it him that he was never born?Whence, further, first was planted in the godsThe archetype for gendering the worldAnd the fore-notion of what man is like,So that they knew and pre-conceived with mindJust what they wished to make? Or how were knownEver the energies of primal germs,And what those germs, by interchange of place,Could thus produce, if nature's self had notGiven example for creating all?For in such wise primordials of things,Many in many modes, astir by blowsFrom immemorial aeons, in motion tooBy their own weights, have evermore been wontTo be so borne along and in all modesTo meet together and to try all sortsWhich, by combining one with other, theyAre powerful to create, that thus it isNo marvel now, if they have also fallenInto arrangements such, and if they've passedInto vibrations such, as those wherebyThis sum of things is carried on to-dayBy fixed renewal.
But knew I never whatThe seeds primordial were, yet would I dareThis to affirm, even from deep judgments basedUpon the ways and conduct of the skies-This to maintain by many a fact besides-That in no wise the nature of all thingsFor us was fashioned by a power divine-So great the faults it stands encumbered with.First, mark all regions which are overarchedBy the prodigious reaches of the sky:One yawning part thereof the mountain-chainsAnd forests of the beasts do have and hold;And cliffs, and desert fens, and wastes of sea(Which sunder afar the beaches of the lands)Possess it merely; and, again, thereofWell-nigh two-thirds intolerable heatAnd a perpetual fall of frost doth robFrom mortal kind. And what is left to till,Even that the force of nature would o'errunWith brambles, did not human force oppose,-Long wont for livelihood to groan and sweatOver the two-pronged mattock and to cleaveThe soil in twain by pressing on the plough. . . . . . .Unless, by the ploughshare turning the fruitful clodsAnd kneading the mould, we quicken into birth,[The crops] spontaneously could not come upInto the free bright air. Even then sometimes,When things acquired by the sternest toilAre now in leaf, are now in blossom all,Either the skiey sun with baneful heatsParches, or sudden rains or chilling rimeDestroys, or flaws of winds with furious whirlTorment and twist. Beside these matters, whyDoth nature feed and foster on land and seaThe dreadful breed of savage beasts, the foesOf the human clan? Why do the seasons bringDistempers with them? Wherefore stalks at largeDeath, so untimely? Then, again, the babe,Like to the castaway of the raging surf,Lies naked on the ground, speechless, in wantOf every help for life, when nature firstHath poured him forth upon the shores of lightWith birth-pangs from within the mother's womb,And with a plaintive wail he fills the place,-As well befitting one for whom remainsIn life a journey through so many ills.But all the flocks and herds and all wild beastsCome forth and grow, nor need the little rattles,Nor must be treated to the humouring nurse'sDear, broken chatter; nor seek they divers clothesTo suit the changing skies; nor need, in fine,Nor arms, nor lofty ramparts, wherewithalTheir own to guard- because the earth herselfAnd nature, artificer of the world, bring forthAboundingly all things for all.
THE WORLD IS NOT ETERNAL And first,Since body of earth and water, air's light breath,And fiery exhalations (of which fourThis sum of things is seen to be compact)So all have birth and perishable frame,Thus the whole nature of the world itselfMust be conceived as perishable too.For, verily, those things of which we seeThe parts and members to have birth in timeAnd perishable shapes, those same we markTo be invariably born in timeAnd born to die. And therefore when I seeThe mightiest members and the parts of thisOur world consumed and begot again,'Tis mine to know that also sky aboveAnd earth beneath began of old in timeAnd shall in time go under to disaster. And lest in these affairs thou deemest meTo have seized upon this point by sleight to serveMy own caprice- because I have assumedThat earth and fire are mortal things indeed,And have not doubted water and the airBoth perish too and have affirmed the sameTo be again begotten and wax big-Mark well the argument: in first place, lo,Some certain parts of earth, grievously parchedBy unremitting suns, and trampled onBy a vast throng of feet, exhale abroadA powdery haze and flying clouds of dust,Which the stout winds disperse in the whole air.A part, moreover, of her sod and soilIs summoned to inundation by the rains;And rivers graze and gouge the banks away.Besides, whatever takes a part its ownIn fostering and increasing [aught]... . . . . . .Is rendered back; and since, beyond a doubt,Earth, the all-mother, is beheld to beLikewise the common sepulchre of things,Therefore thou seest her minished of her plenty,And then again augmented with new growth.
And for the rest, that sea, and streams, and springsForever with new waters overflow,And that perennially the fluids well,Needeth no words- the mighty flux itselfOf multitudinous waters round aboutDeclareth this. But whatso water firstStreams up is ever straightway carried off,And thus it comes to pass that all in allThere is no overflow; in part becauseThe burly winds (that over-sweep amain)And skiey sun (that with his rays dissolves)Do minish the level seas; in part becauseThe water is diffused undergroundThrough all the lands. The brine is filtered off,And then the liquid stuff seeps back againAnd all regathers at the river-heads,Whence in fresh-water currents on it flowsOver the lands, adown the channels whichWere cleft erstwhile and erstwhile bore alongThe liquid-footed floods.
Now, then, of airI'll speak, which hour by hour in all its bodyIs changed innumerably. For whatso'erStreams up in dust or vapour off of things,The same is all and always borne alongInto the mighty ocean of the air;And did not air in turn restore to thingsBodies, and thus recruit them as they stream,All things by this time had resolved beenAnd changed into air. Therefore it neverCeases to be engendered off of thingsAnd to return to things, since verilyIn constant flux do all things stream.
Likewise,The abounding well-spring of the liquid light,The ethereal sun, doth flood the heaven o'erWith constant flux of radiance ever new,And with fresh light supplies the place of light,Upon the instant. For whatever effulgenceHath first streamed off, no matter where it falls,Is lost unto the sun. And this 'tis thineTo know from these examples: soon as cloudsHave first begun to under-pass the sun,And, as it were, to rend the rays of lightIn twain, at once the lower part of themIs lost entire, and earth is overcastWhere'er the thunderheads are rolled along-So know thou mayst that things forever needA fresh replenishment of gleam and glow,And each effulgence, foremost flashed forth,Perisheth one by one. Nor otherwiseCan things be seen in sunlight, lest alwayThe fountain-head of light supply new light.Indeed your earthly beacons of the night,The hanging lampions and the torches, brightWith darting gleams and dense with livid soot,Do hurry in like manner to supplyWith ministering heat new light amain;Are all alive to quiver with their fires,-Are so alive, that thus the light ne'er leavesThe spots it shines on, as if rent in twain:So speedily is its destruction veiledBy the swift birth of flame from all the fires.Thus, then, we must suppose that sun and moonAnd stars dart forth their light from under-birthsEver and ever new, and whatso flamesFirst rise do perish always one by one-Lest, haply, thou shouldst think they each endureInviolable.
Again, perceivest notHow stones are also conquered by Time?-Not how the lofty towers ruin down,And boulders crumble?- Not how shrines of godsAnd idols crack outworn?- Nor how indeedThe holy Influence hath yet no powerThere to postpone the Terminals of Fate,Or headway make 'gainst Nature's fixed decrees?Again, behold we not the monumentsOf heroes, now in ruins, asking us,In their turn likewise, if we don't believeThey also age with eld? Behold we notThe rended basalt ruining amainDown from the lofty mountains, powerlessTo dure and dree the mighty forces thereOf finite time?- for they would never fallRended asudden, if from infinite PastThey had prevailed against all engin'riesOf the assaulting aeons, with no crash.
Again, now look at This, which round, above,Contains the whole earth in its one embrace:If from itself it procreates all things-As some men tell- and takes them to itselfWhen once destroyed, entirely must it beOf mortal birth and body; for whate'erFrom out itself giveth to other thingsIncrease and food, the same perforce must beMinished, and then recruited when it takesThings back into itself.
Besides all this,If there had been no origin-in-birthOf lands and sky, and they had ever beenThe everlasting, why, ere Theban warAnd obsequies of Troy, have other bardsNot also chanted other high affairs?Whither have sunk so oft so many deedsOf heroes? Why do those deeds live no more,Ingrafted in eternal monumentsOf glory? Verily, I guess, becauseThe Sum is new, and of a recent dateThe nature of our universe, and hadNot long ago its own exordium.Wherefore, even now some arts are being stillRefined, still increased: now unto shipsIs being added many a new device;And but the other day musician-folkGave birth to melic sounds of organing;And, then, this nature, this account of thingsHath been discovered latterly, and IMyself have been discovered only now,As first among the first, able to turnThe same into ancestral Roman speech.Yet if, percase, thou deemest that ere thisExisted all things even the same, but thatPerished the cycles of the human raceIn fiery exhalations, or cities fellBy some tremendous quaking of the world,Or rivers in fury, after constant rains,Had plunged forth across the lands of earthAnd whelmed the towns- then, all the more must thouConfess, defeated by the argument,That there shall be annihilation tooOf lands and sky. For at a time when thingsWere being taxed by maladies so great,And so great perils, if some cause more fellHad then assailed them, far and wide they wouldHave gone to disaster and supreme collapse.And by no other reasoning are weSeen to be mortal, save that all of usSicken in turn with those same maladiesWith which have sickened in the past those menWhom nature hath removed from life. Again,Whatever abides eternal must indeedEither repel all strokes, because 'tis madeOf solid body, and permit no entranceOf aught with power to sunder from withinThe parts compact- as are those seeds of stuffWhose nature we've exhibited before;Or else be able to endure through timeFor this: because they are from blows exempt,As is the void, the which abides untouched,Unsmit by any stroke; or else becauseThere is no room around, whereto things can,As 'twere, depart in dissolution all,-Even as the sum of sums eternal is,Without or place beyond whereto things mayAsunder fly, or bodies which can smite,And thus dissolve them by the blows of might.But not of solid body, as I've shown,Exists the nature of the world, becauseIn things is intermingled there a void;Nor is the world yet as the void, nor are,Moreover, bodies lacking which, percase,Rising from out the infinite, can fellWith fury-whirlwinds all this sum of things,Or bring upon them other cataclysmOf peril strange; and yonder, too, abidesThe infinite space and the profound abyss-Whereinto, lo, the ramparts of the worldCan yet be shivered. Or some other powerCan pound upon them till they perish all.Thus is the door of doom, O nowise barredAgainst the sky, against the sun and earthAnd deep-sea waters, but wide open standsAnd gloats upon them, monstrous and agape.Wherefore, again, 'tis needful to confessThat these same things are born in time; for thingsWhich are of mortal body could indeedNever from infinite past until to-dayHave spurned the multitudinous assaultsOf the immeasurable aeons old.
Again, since battle so fiercely one with otherThe four most mighty members the world,Aroused in an all unholy war,Seest not that there may be for them an endOf the long strife?- Or when the skiey sunAnd all the heat have won dominion o'erThe sucked-up waters all?- And this they tryStill to accomplish, though as yet they fail,-For so aboundingly the streams supplyNew store of waters that 'tis rather theyWho menace the world with inundations vastFrom forth the unplumbed chasms of the sea.But vain- since winds (that over-sweep amain)And skiey sun (that with his rays dissolves)Do minish the level seas and trust their powerTo dry up all, before the waters canArrive at the end of their endeavouring.Breathing such vasty warfare, they contendIn balanced strife the one with other stillConcerning mighty issues,- though indeedThe fire was once the more victorious,And once- as goes the tale- the water wonA kingdom in the fields. For fire o'ermasteredAnd licked up many things and burnt away,What time the impetuous horses of the SunSnatched Phaethon headlong from his skiey roadDown the whole ether and over all the lands.But the omnipotent Father in keen wrathThen with the sudden smite of thunderboltDid hurl the mighty-minded hero offThose horses to the earth. And Sol, his sire,Meeting him as he fell, caught up in handThe ever-blazing lampion of the world,And drave together the pell-mell horses thereAnd yoked them all a-tremble, and amain,Steering them over along their own old road,Restored the cosmos,- as forsooth we hearFrom songs of ancient poets of the Greeks-A tale too far away from truth, meseems.For fire can win when from the infiniteHas risen a larger throng of particlesOf fiery stuff; and then its powers succumb,Somehow subdued again, or else at lastIt shrivels in torrid atmospheres the world.And whilom water too began to win-As goes the story- when it overwhelmedThe lives of men with billows; and thereafter,When all that force of water-stuff which forthFrom out the infinite had risen upDid now retire, as somehow turned aside,The rain-storms stopped, and streams their fury checked.
FORMATION OF THE WORLD AND ASTRONOMICAL QUESTIONS But in what modes that conflux of first-stuffDid found the multitudinous universeOf earth, and sky, and the unfathomed deepsOf ocean, and courses of the sun and moon,I'll now in order tell. For of a truthNeither by counsel did the primal germs'Stablish themselves, as by keen act of mind,Each in its proper place; nor did they make,Forsooth, a compact how each germ should move;But, lo, because primordials of things,Many in many modes, astir by blowsFrom immemorial aeons, in motion tooBy their own weights, have evermore been wontTo be so borne along and in all modesTo meet together and to try all sortsWhich, by combining one with other, theyAre powerful to create: because of thisIt comes to pass that those primordials,Diffused far and wide through mighty aeons,The while they unions try, and motions too,Of every kind, meet at the last amain,And so become oft the commencements fitOf mighty things- earth, sea, and sky, and raceOf living creatures.
In that long-agoThe wheel of the sun could nowhere be discernedFlying far up with its abounding blaze,Nor constellations of the mighty world,Nor ocean, nor heaven, nor even earth nor air.Nor aught of things like unto things of oursCould then be seen- but only some strange stormAnd a prodigious hurly-burly massCompounded of all kinds of primal germs,Whose battling discords in disorder keptInterstices, and paths, coherencies,And weights, and blows, encounterings, and motions,Because, by reason of their forms unlikeAnd varied shapes, they could not all thuswiseRemain conjoined nor harmoniouslyHave interplay of movements. But from therePortions began to fly asunder, and likeWith like to join, and to block out a world,And to divide its members and disposeIts mightier parts- that is, to set secureThe lofty heavens from the lands, and causeThe sea to spread with waters separate,And fires of ether separate and pureLikewise to congregate apart.
For, lo,First came together the earthy particles(As being heavy and intertangled) thereIn the mid-region, and all began to takeThe lowest abodes; and ever the more they gotOne with another intertangled, the moreThey pressed from out their mass those particlesWhich were to form the sea, the stars, the sun,And moon, and ramparts of the mighty world-For these consist of seeds more smooth and roundAnd of much smaller elements than earth.And thus it was that ether, fraught with fire,First broke away from out the earthen parts,Athrough the innumerable pores of earth,And raised itself aloft, and with itselfBore lightly off the many starry fires;And not far otherwise we often see . . . . . .And the still lakes and the perennial streamsExhale a mist, and even as earth herselfIs seen at times to smoke, when first at dawnThe light of the sun, the many-rayed, beginsTo redden into gold, over the grassBegemmed with dew. When all of these are broughtTogether overhead, the clouds on highWith now concreted body weave a coverBeneath the heavens. And thuswise ether too,Light and diffusive, with concreted bodyOn all sides spread, on all sides bent itselfInto a dome, and, far and wide diffusedOn unto every region on all sides,Thus hedged all else within its greedy clasp.Hard upon ether came the originsOf sun and moon, whose globes revolve in airMidway between the earth and mightiest ether,-For neither took them, since they weighed too littleTo sink and settle, but too much to glideAlong the upmost shores; and yet they areIn such a wise midway between the twainAs ever to whirl their living bodies round,And ever to dure as parts of the wide Whole;In the same fashion as certain members mayIn us remain at rest, whilst others move.When, then, these substances had been withdrawn,Amain the earth, where now extend the vastCerulean zones of all the level seas,Caved in, and down along the hollows pouredThe whirlpools of her brine; and day by dayThe more the tides of ether and rays of sunOn every side constrained into one massThe earth by lashing it again, again,Upon its outer edges (so that then,Being thus beat upon, 'twas all condensedAbout its proper centre), ever the moreThe salty sweat, from out its body squeezed,Augmented ocean and the fields of foamBy seeping through its frame, and all the moreThose many particles of heat and airEscaping, began to fly aloft, and form,By condensation there afar from earth,The high refulgent circuits of the heavens.The plains began to sink, and windy slopesOf the high mountains to increase; for rocksCould not subside, nor all the parts of groundSettle alike to one same level there.
Thus, then, the massy weight of earth stood firmWith now concreted body, when (as 'twere)All of the slime of the world, heavy and gross,Had run together and settled at the bottom,Like lees or bilge. Then ocean, then the air,Then ether herself, the fraught-with-fire, were allLeft with their liquid bodies pure and free,And each more lighter than the next below;And ether, most light and liquid of the three,Floats on above the long aerial winds,Nor with the brawling of the winds of airMingles its liquid body. It doth leaveAll there- those under-realms below her heights-There to be overset in whirlwinds wild,-Doth leave all there to brawl in wayward gusts,Whilst, gliding with a fixed impulse still,Itself it bears its fires along. For, lo,That ether can flow thus steadily on, on,With one unaltered urge, the Pontus proves-That sea which floweth forth with fixed tides,Keeping one onward tenor as it glides. Now let us sing what makes the stars to move.In first place, if the mighty sphere of heavenRevolveth round, then needs we must averThat on the upper and the under polePresses a certain air, and from withoutConfines them and encloseth at each end;And that, moreover, another air aboveStreams on athwart the top of the sphere and tendsIn same direction as are rolled alongThe glittering stars of the eternal world;Or that another still streams on belowTo whirl the sphere from under up and onIn opposite direction- as we seeThe rivers turn the wheels and water-scoops.It may be also that the heavens do allRemain at rest, whilst yet are borne alongThe lucid constellations; either becauseSwift tides of ether are by sky enclosed,And whirl around, seeking a passage out,And everywhere make roll the starry firesThrough the Summanian regions of the sky;Or else because some air, streaming alongFrom an eternal quarter off beyond,Whileth the driven fires, or, then, becauseThe fires themselves have power to creep along,Going wherever their food invites and calls,And feeding their flaming bodies everywhereThroughout the sky. Yet which of these is causeIn this our world 'tis hard to say for sure;But what can be throughout the universe,In divers worlds on divers plan create,This only do I show, and follow onTo assign unto the motions of the starsEven several causes which 'tis possibleExist throughout the universal All;Of which yet one must be the cause even hereWhich maketh motion for our constellations.Yet to decide which one of them it beIs not the least the business of a manAdvancing step by cautious step, as I.