De Rerum Natura
Lucretius
Lucretius. De Rerum Natura. William Ellery Leonard. E. P. Dutton. 1916.
- Besides, since shape examined by our hands
- Within the dark is known to be the same
- As that by eyes perceived within the light
- And lustrous day, both touch and sight must be
- By one like cause aroused. So, if we test
- A square and get its stimulus on us
- Within the dark, within the light what square
- Can fall upon our sight, except a square
- That images the things? Wherefore it seems
- The source of seeing is in images,
- Nor without these can anything be viewed.
- Now these same films I name are borne about
- And tossed and scattered into regions all.
- But since we do perceive alone through eyes,
- It follows hence that whitherso we turn
- Our sight, all things do strike against it there
- With form and hue. And just how far from us
- Each thing may be away, the image yields
- To us the power to see and chance to tell:
- For when 'tis sent, at once it shoves ahead
- And drives along the air that's in the space
- Betwixt it and our eyes. And thus this air
- All glides athrough our eyeballs, and, as 'twere,
- Brushes athrough our pupils and thuswise
- Passes across. Therefore it comes we see
- How far from us each thing may be away,
- And the more air there be that's driven before,
- And too the longer be the brushing breeze
- Against our eyes, the farther off removed
- Each thing is seen to be: forsooth, this work
- With mightily swift order all goes on,
- So that upon one instant we may see
- What kind the object and how far away.
- Nor over-marvellous must this be deemed
- In these affairs that, though the films which strike
- Upon the eyes cannot be singly seen,
- The things themselves may be perceived. For thus
- When the wind beats upon us stroke by stroke
- And when the sharp cold streams, 'tis not our wont
- To feel each private particle of wind
- Or of that cold, but rather all at once;
- And so we see how blows affect our body,
- As if one thing were beating on the same
- And giving us the feel of its own body
- Outside of us. Again, whene'er we thump
- With finger-tip upon a stone, we touch
- But the rock's surface and the outer hue,
- Nor feel that hue by contact- rather feel
- The very hardness deep within the rock.
- Now come, and why beyond a looking-glass
- An image may be seen, perceive. For seen
- It soothly is, removed far within.
- 'Tis the same sort as objects peered upon
- Outside in their true shape, whene'er a door
- Yields through itself an open peering-place,
- And lets us see so many things outside
- Beyond the house. Also that sight is made
- By a twofold twin air: for first is seen
- The air inside the door-posts; next the doors,
- The twain to left and right; and afterwards
- A light beyond comes brushing through our eyes,
- Then other air, then objects peered upon
- Outside in their true shape. And thus, when first
- The image of the glass projects itself,
- As to our gaze it comes, it shoves ahead
- And drives along the air that's in the space
- Betwixt it and our eyes, and brings to pass
- That we perceive the air ere yet the glass.
- But when we've also seen the glass itself,
- Forthwith that image which from us is borne
- Reaches the glass, and there thrown back again
- Comes back unto our eyes, and driving rolls
- Ahead of itself another air, that then
- 'Tis this we see before itself, and thus
- It looks so far removed behind the glass.
- Wherefore again, again, there's naught for wonder
- . . . . . .
- In those which render from the mirror's plane
- A vision back, since each thing comes to pass
- By means of the two airs. Now, in the glass
- The right part of our members is observed
- Upon the left, because, when comes the image
- Hitting against the level of the glass,
- 'Tis not returned unshifted; but forced off
- Backwards in line direct and not oblique,-
- Exactly as whoso his plaster-mask
- Should dash, before 'twere dry, on post or beam,
- And it should straightway keep, at clinging there,
- Its shape, reversed, facing him who threw,
- And so remould the features it gives back:
- It comes that now the right eye is the left,
- The left the right.
- An image too may be
- From mirror into mirror handed on,
- Until of idol-films even five or six
- Have thus been gendered. For whatever things
- Shall hide back yonder in the house, the same,
- However far removed in twisting ways,
- May still be all brought forth through bending paths
- And by these several mirrors seen to be
- Within the house, since nature so compels
- All things to be borne backward and spring off
- At equal angles from all other things.
- To such degree the image gleams across
- From mirror unto mirror; where 'twas left
- It comes to be the right, and then again
- Returns and changes round unto the left.
- Again, those little sides of mirrors curved
- Proportionate to the bulge of our own flank
- Send back to us their idols with the right
- Upon the right; and this is so because
- Either the image is passed on along
- From mirror unto mirror, and thereafter,
- When twice dashed off, flies back unto ourselves;
- Or else the image wheels itself around,
- When once unto the mirror it has come,
- Since the curved surface teaches it to turn
- To usward. Further, thou might'st well believe
- That these film-idols step along with us
- And set their feet in unison with ours
- And imitate our carriage, since from that
- Part of a mirror whence thou hast withdrawn
- Straightway no images can be returned.
- Further, our eye-balls tend to flee the bright
- And shun to gaze thereon; the sun even blinds,
- If thou goest on to strain them unto him,
- Because his strength is mighty, and the films
- Heavily downward from on high are borne
- Through the pure ether and the viewless winds,
- And strike the eyes, disordering their joints.
- So piecing lustre often burns the eyes,
- Because it holdeth many seeds of fire
- Which, working into eyes, engender pain.
- Again, whatever jaundiced people view
- Becomes wan-yellow, since from out their bodies
- Flow many seeds wan-yellow forth to meet
- The films of things, and many too are mixed
- Within their eye, which by contagion paint
- All things with sallowness.
- Again, we view
- From dark recesses things that stand in light,
- Because, when first has entered and possessed
- The open eyes this nearer darkling air,
- Swiftly the shining air and luminous
- Followeth in, which purges then the eyes
- And scatters asunder of that other air
- The sable shadows, for in large degrees
- This air is nimbler, nicer, and more strong.
- And soon as ever 'thas filled and oped with light
- The pathways of the eyeballs, which before
- Black air had blocked, there follow straightaway
- Those films of things out-standing in the light,
- Provoking vision- what we cannot do
- From out the light with objects in the dark,
- Because that denser darkling air behind
- Followeth in, and fills each aperture
- And thus blockades the pathways of the eyes
- That there no images of any things
- Can be thrown in and agitate the eyes.
- And when from far away we do behold
- The squared towers of a city, oft
- Rounded they seem,- on this account because
- Each distant angle is perceived obtuse,
- Or rather it is not perceived at all;
- And perishes its blow nor to our gaze
- Arrives its stroke, since through such length of air
- Are borne along the idols that the air
- Makes blunt the idol of the angle's point
- By numerous collidings. When thuswise
- The angles of the tower each and all
- Have quite escaped the sense, the stones appear
- As rubbed and rounded on a turner's wheel-
- Yet not like objects near and truly round,
- But with a semblance to them, shadowily.
- Likewise, our shadow in the sun appears
- To move along and follow our own steps
- And imitate our carriage- if thou thinkest
- Air that is thus bereft of light can walk,
- Following the gait and motion of mankind.
- For what we use to name a shadow, sure
- Is naught but air deprived of light. No marvel:
- Because the earth from spot to spot is reft
- Progressively of light of sun, whenever
- In moving round we get within its way,
- While any spot of earth by us abandoned
- Is filled with light again, on this account
- It comes to pass that what was body's shadow
- Seems still the same to follow after us
- In one straight course. Since, evermore pour in
- New lights of rays, and perish then the old,
- Just like the wool that's drawn into the flame.
- Therefore the earth is easily spoiled of light
- And easily refilled and from herself
- Washeth the black shadows quite away.
- And yet in this we don't at all concede
- That eyes be cheated. For their task it is
- To note in whatsoever place be light,
- In what be shadow: whether or no the gleams
- Be still the same, and whether the shadow which
- Just now was here is that one passing thither,
- Or whether the facts be what we said above,
- 'Tis after all the reasoning of mind
- That must decide; nor can our eyeballs know
- The nature of reality. And so
- Attach thou not this fault of mind to eyes,
- Nor lightly think our senses everywhere
- Are tottering. The ship in which we sail
- Is borne along, although it seems to stand;
- The ship that bides in roadstead is supposed
- There to be passing by. And hills and fields
- Seem fleeing fast astern, past which we urge
- The ship and fly under the bellying sails.
- The stars, each one, do seem to pause, affixed
- To the ethereal caverns, though they all
- Forever are in motion, rising out
- And thence revisiting their far descents
- When they have measured with their bodies bright
- The span of heaven. And likewise sun and moon
- Seem biding in a roadstead,- objects which,
- As plain fact proves, are really borne along.
- Between two mountains far away aloft
- From midst the whirl of waters open lies
- A gaping exit for the fleet, and yet
- They seem conjoined in a single isle.
- When boys themselves have stopped their spinning round,
- The halls still seem to whirl and posts to reel,
- Until they now must almost think the roofs
- Threaten to ruin down upon their heads.
- And now, when nature begins to lift on high
- The sun's red splendour and the tremulous fires,
- And raise him o'er the mountain-tops, those mountains-
- O'er which he seemeth then to thee to be,
- His glowing self hard by atingeing them
- With his own fire- are yet away from us
- Scarcely two thousand arrow-shots, indeed
- Oft scarce five hundred courses of a dart;
- Although between those mountains and the sun
- Lie the huge plains of ocean spread beneath
- The vasty shores of ether, and intervene
- A thousand lands, possessed by many a folk
- And generations of wild beasts. Again,
- A pool of water of but a finger's depth,
- Which lies between the stones along the pave,
- Offers a vision downward into earth
- As far, as from the earth o'erspread on high
- The gulfs of heaven; that thus thou seemest to view
- Clouds down below and heavenly bodies plunged
- Wondrously in heaven under earth.
- Then too, when in the middle of the stream
- Sticks fast our dashing horse, and down we gaze
- Into the river's rapid waves, some force
- Seems then to bear the body of the horse,
- Though standing still, reversely from his course,
- And swiftly push up-stream. And wheresoe'er
- We cast our eyes across, all objects seem
- Thus to be onward borne and flow along
- In the same way as we. A portico,
- Albeit it stands well propped from end to end
- On equal columns, parallel and big,
- Contracts by stages in a narrow cone,
- When from one end the long, long whole is seen,-
- Until, conjoining ceiling with the floor,
- And the whole right side with the left, it draws
- Together to a cone's nigh-viewless point.
- To sailors on the main the sun he seems
- From out the waves to rise, and in the waves
- To set and bury his light- because indeed
- They gaze on naught but water and the sky.
- Again, to gazers ignorant of the sea,
- Vessels in port seem, as with broken poops,
- To lean upon the water, quite agog;
- For any portion of the oars that's raised
- Above the briny spray is straight, and straight
- The rudders from above. But other parts,
- Those sunk, immersed below the water-line,
- Seem broken all and bended and inclined
- Sloping to upwards, and turned back to float
- Almost atop the water. And when the winds
- Carry the scattered drifts along the sky
- In the night-time, then seem to glide along
- The radiant constellations 'gainst the clouds
- And there on high to take far other course
- From that whereon in truth they're borne. And then,
- If haply our hand be set beneath one eye
- And press below thereon, then to our gaze
- Each object which we gaze on seems to be,
- By some sensation twain- then twain the lights
- Of lampions burgeoning in flowers of flame,
- And twain the furniture in all the house,
- Two-fold the visages of fellow-men,
- And twain their bodies. And again, when sleep
- Has bound our members down in slumber soft
- And all the body lies in deep repose,
- Yet then we seem to self to be awake
- And move our members; and in night's blind gloom
- We think to mark the daylight and the sun;
- And, shut within a room, yet still we seem
- To change our skies, our oceans, rivers, hills,
- To cross the plains afoot, and hear new sounds,
- Though still the austere silence of the night
- Abides around us, and to speak replies,
- Though voiceless. Other cases of the sort
- Wondrously many do we see, which all
- Seek, so to say, to injure faith in sense-
- In vain, because the largest part of these
- Deceives through mere opinions of the mind,
- Which we do add ourselves, feigning to see
- What by the senses are not seen at all.
- For naught is harder than to separate
- Plain facts from dubious, which the mind forthwith
- Adds by itself.
- Again, if one suppose
- That naught is known, he knows not whether this
- Itself is able to be known, since he
- Confesses naught to know. Therefore with him
- I waive discussion- who has set his head
- Even where his feet should be. But let me grant
- That this he knows,- I question: whence he knows
- What 'tis to know and not-to-know in turn,
- And what created concept of the truth,
- And what device has proved the dubious
- To differ from the certain?- since in things
- He's heretofore seen naught of true. Thou'lt find
- That from the senses first hath been create
- Concept of truth, nor can the senses be
- Rebutted. For criterion must be found
- Worthy of greater trust, which shall defeat
- Through own authority the false by true;
- What, then, than these our senses must there be
- Worthy a greater trust? Shall reason, sprung
- From some false sense, prevail to contradict
- Those senses, sprung as reason wholly is
- From out the senses?- For lest these be true,
- All reason also then is falsified.
- Or shall the ears have power to blame the eyes,
- Or yet the touch the ears? Again, shall taste
- Accuse this touch or shall the nose confute
- Or eyes defeat it? Methinks not so it is:
- For unto each has been divided off
- Its function quite apart, its power to each;
- And thus we're still constrained to perceive
- The soft, the cold, the hot apart, apart
- All divers hues and whatso things there be
- Conjoined with hues. Likewise the tasting tongue
- Has its own power apart, and smells apart
- And sounds apart are known. And thus it is
- That no one sense can e'er convict another.
- Nor shall one sense have power to blame itself,
- Because it always must be deemed the same,
- Worthy of equal trust. And therefore what
- At any time unto these senses showed,
- The same is true.
- And if the reason be
- Unable to unravel us the cause
- Why objects, which at hand were square, afar
- Seemed rounded, yet it more availeth us,
- Lacking the reason, to pretend a cause
- For each configuration, than to let
- From out our hands escape the obvious things
- And injure primal faith in sense, and wreck
- All those foundations upon which do rest
- Our life and safety. For not only reason
- Would topple down; but even our very life
- Would straightaway collapse, unless we dared
- To trust our senses and to keep away
- From headlong heights and places to be shunned
- Of a like peril, and to seek with speed
- Their opposites! Again, as in a building,
- If the first plumb-line be askew, and if
- The square deceiving swerve from lines exact,
- And if the level waver but the least
- In any part, the whole construction then
- Must turn out faulty- shelving and askew,
- Leaning to back and front, incongruous,
- That now some portions seem about to fall,
- And falls the whole ere long- betrayed indeed
- By first deceiving estimates: so too
- Thy calculations in affairs of life
- Must be askew and false, if sprung for thee
- From senses false. So all that troop of words
- Marshalled against the senses is quite vain.