---
type: article
status: Published
slug: "lucretius-1"
title: "De Rerum Natura, Book 1"
author: "Lucretius"
tradition: "roman"
language: "la"
genre: "didactic epic"
period: "1st c. BCE"
source_url: "https://www.thelatinlibrary.com/lucretius/lucretius1.shtml"
certainty: observed
source: "https://www.thelatinlibrary.com/lucretius/lucretius1.shtml"
unknowns: none known
---
# De Rerum Natura, Book 1

## Original

### Invocation to Venus

Aeneadum genetrix, hominum divomque voluptas,
alma Venus, caeli subter labentia signa
quae mare navigerum, quae terras frugiferentis
concelebras, per te quoniam genus omne animantum
concipitur visitque exortum lumina solis:
te, dea, te fugiunt venti, te nubila caeli
adventumque tuum, tibi suavis daedala tellus
summittit flores, tibi rident aequora ponti
placatumque nitet diffuso lumine caelum.
nam simul ac species patefactast verna diei
et reserata viget genitabilis aura favoni,
aeriae primum volucris te, diva, tuumque
significant initum perculsae corda tua vi.
inde ferae pecudes persultant pabula laeta
et rapidos tranant amnis: ita capta lepore
te sequitur cupide quo quamque inducere pergis.
denique per maria ac montis fluviosque rapacis
frondiferasque domos avium camposque virentis
omnibus incutiens blandum per pectora amorem
efficis ut cupide generatim saecla propagent.
quae quoniam rerum naturam sola gubernas
nec sine te quicquam dias in luminis oras
exoritur neque fit laetum neque amabile quicquam,
te sociam studeo scribendis versibus esse,
quos ego de rerum natura pangere conor
Memmiadae nostro, quem tu, dea, tempore in omni
omnibus ornatum voluisti excellere rebus.
quo magis aeternum da dictis, diva, leporem.
effice ut interea fera moenera militiai
per maria ac terras omnis sopita quiescant;
nam tu sola potes tranquilla pace iuvare
mortalis, quoniam belli fera moenera Mavors
armipotens regit, in gremium qui saepe tuum se
reiicit aeterno devictus vulnere amoris,
atque ita suspiciens tereti cervice reposta
pascit amore avidos inhians in te, dea, visus
eque tuo pendet resupini spiritus ore.
hunc tu, diva, tuo recubantem corpore sancto
circum fusa super, suavis ex ore loquellas
funde petens placidam Romanis, incluta, pacem;
nam neque nos agere hoc patriai tempore iniquo
possumus aequo animo nec Memmi clara propago
talibus in rebus communi desse saluti.

### The Light of Reason

omnis enim per se divum natura necessest
immortali aevo summa cum pace fruatur
semota ab nostris rebus seiunctaque longe;
nam privata dolore omni, privata periclis,
ipsa suis pollens opibus, nihil indiga nostri,
nec bene promeritis capitur nec tangitur ira.
Humana ante oculos foede cum vita iaceret
in terris oppressa gravi sub religione,
quae caput a caeli regionibus ostendebat
horribili super aspectu mortalibus instans,
primum Graius homo mortalis tollere contra
est oculos ausus primusque obsistere contra;
quem neque fama deum nec fulmina nec minitanti
murmure compressit caelum, sed eo magis acrem
inritat animi virtutem, effringere ut arta
naturae primus portarum claustra cupiret.
ergo vivida vis animi pervicit et extra
processit longe flammantia moenia mundi
atque omne immensum peragravit mente animoque,
unde refert nobis victor quid possit oriri,
quid nequeat, finita potestas denique cuique
qua nam sit ratione atque alte terminus haerens.
quare religio pedibus subiecta vicissim
opteritur, nos exaequat victoria caelo.
Illud in his rebus vereor, ne forte rearis
impia te rationis inire elementa viamque
indugredi sceleris. quod contra saepius illa
religio peperit scelerosa atque impia facta.
Aulide quo pacto Triviai virginis aram
Iphianassai turparunt sanguine foede
ductores Danaum delecti, prima virorum.
cui simul infula virgineos circum data comptus
ex utraque pari malarum parte profusast,
et maestum simul ante aras adstare parentem
sensit et hunc propter ferrum celare ministros
aspectuque suo lacrimas effundere civis,
muta metu terram genibus summissa petebat.
nec miserae prodesse in tali tempore quibat,
quod patrio princeps donarat nomine regem;
nam sublata virum manibus tremibundaque ad aras
deductast, non ut sollemni more sacrorum
perfecto posset claro comitari Hymenaeo,
sed casta inceste nubendi tempore in ipso
hostia concideret mactatu maesta parentis,
exitus ut classi felix faustusque daretur.
tantum religio potuit suadere malorum.
Tutemet a nobis iam quovis tempore vatum
terriloquis victus dictis desciscere quaeres.
quippe etenim quam multa tibi iam fingere possunt
somnia, quae vitae rationes vertere possint
fortunasque tuas omnis turbare timore!
et merito; nam si certam finem esse viderent
aerumnarum homines, aliqua ratione valerent
religionibus atque minis obsistere vatum.
nunc ratio nulla est restandi, nulla facultas,
aeternas quoniam poenas in morte timendum.
ignoratur enim quae sit natura animai,
nata sit an contra nascentibus insinuetur

### Nothing from Nothing

et simul intereat nobiscum morte dirempta
an tenebras Orci visat vastasque lacunas
an pecudes alias divinitus insinuet se,
Ennius ut noster cecinit, qui primus amoeno
detulit ex Helicone perenni fronde coronam,
per gentis Italas hominum quae clara clueret;
etsi praeterea tamen esse Acherusia templa
Ennius aeternis exponit versibus edens,
quo neque permaneant animae neque corpora nostra,
sed quaedam simulacra modis pallentia miris;
unde sibi exortam semper florentis Homeri
commemorat speciem lacrimas effundere salsas
coepisse et rerum naturam expandere dictis.
qua propter bene cum superis de rebus habenda
nobis est ratio, solis lunaeque meatus
qua fiant ratione, et qua vi quaeque gerantur
in terris, tunc cum primis ratione sagaci
unde anima atque animi constet natura videndum,
et quae res nobis vigilantibus obvia mentes
terrificet morbo adfectis somnoque sepultis,
cernere uti videamur eos audireque coram,
morte obita quorum tellus amplectitur ossa.
Quod super est, vacuas auris animumque sagacem
semotum a curis adhibe veram ad rationem,
ne mea dona tibi studio disposta fideli,
intellecta prius quam sint, contempta relinquas.
nam tibi de summa caeli ratione deumque
disserere incipiam et rerum primordia pandam,
unde omnis natura creet res, auctet alatque,
quove eadem rursum natura perempta resolvat,
quae nos materiem et genitalia corpora rebus
reddunda in ratione vocare et semina rerum
appellare suemus et haec eadem usurpare
corpora prima, quod ex illis sunt omnia primis.
Nec me animi fallit Graiorum obscura reperta
difficile inlustrare Latinis versibus esse,
multa novis verbis praesertim cum sit agendum
propter egestatem linguae et rerum novitatem;
sed tua me virtus tamen et sperata voluptas
suavis amicitiae quemvis efferre laborem
suadet et inducit noctes vigilare serenas
quaerentem dictis quibus et quo carmine demum
clara tuae possim praepandere lumina menti,
res quibus occultas penitus convisere possis.
hunc igitur terrorem animi tenebrasque necessest
non radii solis neque lucida tela diei
discutiant, sed naturae species ratioque.
Principium cuius hinc nobis exordia sumet,
nullam rem e nihilo gigni divinitus umquam.
quippe ita formido mortalis continet omnis,
quod multa in terris fieri caeloque tuentur,
quorum operum causas nulla ratione videre
possunt ac fieri divino numine rentur.
quas ob res ubi viderimus nil posse creari
de nihilo, tum quod sequimur iam rectius inde
perspiciemus, et unde queat res quaeque creari
et quo quaeque modo fiant opera sine divom.
Nam si de nihilo fierent, ex omnibus rebus
omne genus nasci posset, nil semine egeret.
e mare primum homines, e terra posset oriri
squamigerum genus et volucres erumpere caelo;
armenta atque aliae pecudes, genus omne ferarum,
incerto partu culta ac deserta tenerent.
nec fructus idem arboribus constare solerent,
sed mutarentur, ferre omnes omnia possent.
quippe ubi non essent genitalia corpora cuique,
qui posset mater rebus consistere certa?
at nunc seminibus quia certis quaeque creantur,
inde enascitur atque oras in luminis exit,
materies ubi inest cuiusque et corpora prima;
atque hac re nequeunt ex omnibus omnia gigni,
quod certis in rebus inest secreta facultas.
Praeterea cur vere rosam, frumenta calore,
vites autumno fundi suadente videmus,
si non, certa suo quia tempore semina rerum
cum confluxerunt, patefit quod cumque creatur,
dum tempestates adsunt et vivida tellus
tuto res teneras effert in luminis oras?
quod si de nihilo fierent, subito exorerentur
incerto spatio atque alienis partibus anni,
quippe ubi nulla forent primordia, quae genitali
concilio possent arceri tempore iniquo.
Nec porro augendis rebus spatio foret usus
seminis ad coitum, si e nilo crescere possent;
nam fierent iuvenes subito ex infantibus parvis
e terraque exorta repente arbusta salirent.
quorum nil fieri manifestum est, omnia quando
paulatim crescunt, ut par est semine certo,
crescentesque genus servant; ut noscere possis
quicque sua de materia grandescere alique.
Huc accedit uti sine certis imbribus anni
laetificos nequeat fetus submittere tellus
nec porro secreta cibo natura animantum
propagare genus possit vitamque tueri;
ut potius multis communia corpora rebus
multa putes esse, ut verbis elementa videmus,
quam sine principiis ullam rem existere posse.
Denique cur homines tantos natura parare
non potuit, pedibus qui pontum per vada possent
transire et magnos manibus divellere montis
multaque vivendo vitalia vincere saecla,
si non, materies quia rebus reddita certast
gignundis, e qua constat quid possit oriri?
nil igitur fieri de nilo posse fatendumst,
semine quando opus est rebus, quo quaeque creatae
aeris in teneras possint proferrier auras.
Postremo quoniam incultis praestare videmus
culta loca et manibus melioris reddere fetus,
esse videlicet in terris primordia rerum
quae nos fecundas vertentes vomere glebas
terraique solum subigentes cimus ad ortus;
quod si nulla forent, nostro sine quaeque labore
sponte sua multo fieri meliora videres.

### Atoms and Void

Huc accedit uti quicque in sua corpora rursum
dissoluat natura neque ad nihilum interemat res.
nam siquid mortale e cunctis partibus esset,
ex oculis res quaeque repente erepta periret;
nulla vi foret usus enim, quae partibus eius
discidium parere et nexus exsolvere posset.
quod nunc, aeterno quia constant semine quaeque,
donec vis obiit, quae res diverberet ictu
aut intus penetret per inania dissoluatque,
nullius exitium patitur natura videri.
Praeterea quae cumque vetustate amovet aetas,
si penitus peremit consumens materiem omnem,
unde animale genus generatim in lumina vitae
redducit Venus, aut redductum daedala tellus
unde alit atque auget generatim pabula praebens?
unde mare ingenuei fontes externaque longe
flumina suppeditant? unde aether sidera pascit?
omnia enim debet, mortali corpore quae sunt,
infinita aetas consumpse ante acta diesque.
quod si in eo spatio atque ante acta aetate fuere
e quibus haec rerum consistit summa refecta,
inmortali sunt natura praedita certe.
haud igitur possunt ad nilum quaeque reverti.
Denique res omnis eadem vis causaque volgo
conficeret, nisi materies aeterna teneret,
inter se nexus minus aut magis indupedita;
tactus enim leti satis esset causa profecto,
quippe ubi nulla forent aeterno corpore, quorum
contextum vis deberet dissolvere quaeque.
at nunc, inter se quia nexus principiorum
dissimiles constant aeternaque materies est,
incolumi remanent res corpore, dum satis acris
vis obeat pro textura cuiusque reperta.
haud igitur redit ad nihilum res ulla, sed omnes
discidio redeunt in corpora materiai.
postremo pereunt imbres, ubi eos pater aether
in gremium matris terrai praecipitavit;
at nitidae surgunt fruges ramique virescunt
arboribus, crescunt ipsae fetuque gravantur.
hinc alitur porro nostrum genus atque ferarum,
hinc laetas urbes pueris florere videmus
frondiferasque novis avibus canere undique silvas,
hinc fessae pecudes pinguis per pabula laeta
corpora deponunt et candens lacteus umor
uberibus manat distentis, hinc nova proles
artubus infirmis teneras lasciva per herbas
ludit lacte mero mentes perculsa novellas.
haud igitur penitus pereunt quaecumque videntur,
quando alit ex alio reficit natura nec ullam
rem gigni patitur nisi morte adiuta aliena.
Nunc age, res quoniam docui non posse creari
de nihilo neque item genitas ad nil revocari,
ne qua forte tamen coeptes diffidere dictis,
quod nequeunt oculis rerum primordia cerni,
accipe praeterea quae corpora tute necessest
confiteare esse in rebus nec posse videri.
Principio venti vis verberat incita corpus
ingentisque ruit navis et nubila differt,
inter dum rapido percurrens turbine campos
arboribus magnis sternit montisque supremos
silvifragis vexat flabris: ita perfurit acri
cum fremitu saevitque minaci murmure pontus.
sunt igitur venti ni mirum corpora caeca,
quae mare, quae terras, quae denique nubila caeli
verrunt ac subito vexantia turbine raptant,
nec ratione fluunt alia stragemque propagant
et cum mollis aquae fertur natura repente
flumine abundanti, quam largis imbribus auget
montibus ex altis magnus decursus aquai
fragmina coniciens silvarum arbustaque tota,
nec validi possunt pontes venientis aquai
vim subitam tolerare: ita magno turbidus imbri
molibus incurrit validis cum viribus amnis,
dat sonitu magno stragem volvitque sub undis
grandia saxa, ruit qua quidquid fluctibus obstat.
sic igitur debent venti quoque flamina ferri,
quae vel uti validum cum flumen procubuere
quam libet in partem, trudunt res ante ruuntque
impetibus crebris, inter dum vertice torto
corripiunt rapidique rotanti turbine portant.
quare etiam atque etiam sunt venti corpora caeca,
quandoquidem factis et moribus aemula magnis
amnibus inveniuntur, aperto corpore qui sunt.
Tum porro varios rerum sentimus odores
nec tamen ad naris venientis cernimus umquam
nec calidos aestus tuimur nec frigora quimus
usurpare oculis nec voces cernere suemus;
quae tamen omnia corporea constare necessest
natura, quoniam sensus inpellere possunt;
tangere enim et tangi, nisi corpus, nulla potest res.
Denique fluctifrago suspensae in litore vestis
uvescunt, eaedem dispansae in sole serescunt.
at neque quo pacto persederit umor aquai
visumst nec rursum quo pacto fugerit aestu.
in parvas igitur partis dispergitur umor,
quas oculi nulla possunt ratione videre.
quin etiam multis solis redeuntibus annis
anulus in digito subter tenuatur habendo,
stilicidi casus lapidem cavat, uncus aratri
ferreus occulte decrescit vomer in arvis,
strataque iam volgi pedibus detrita viarum
saxea conspicimus; tum portas propter aena
signa manus dextras ostendunt adtenuari
saepe salutantum tactu praeterque meantum.
haec igitur minui, cum sint detrita, videmus.
sed quae corpora decedant in tempore quoque,
invida praeclusit speciem natura videndi.
Postremo quae cumque dies naturaque rebus
paulatim tribuit moderatim crescere cogens,
nulla potest oculorum acies contenta tueri,
nec porro quae cumque aevo macieque senescunt,
nec, mare quae impendent, vesco sale saxa peresa
quid quoque amittant in tempore cernere possis.
corporibus caecis igitur natura gerit res.
Nec tamen undique corporea stipata tenentur
omnia natura; namque est in rebus inane.
quod tibi cognosse in multis erit utile rebus
nec sinet errantem dubitare et quaerere semper
de summa rerum et nostris diffidere dictis.
qua propter locus est intactus inane vacansque.
quod si non esset, nulla ratione moveri
res possent; namque officium quod corporis exstat,
officere atque obstare, id in omni tempore adesset
omnibus; haud igitur quicquam procedere posset,
principium quoniam cedendi nulla daret res.
at nunc per maria ac terras sublimaque caeli
multa modis multis varia ratione moveri
cernimus ante oculos, quae, si non esset inane,
non tam sollicito motu privata carerent
quam genita omnino nulla ratione fuissent,
undique materies quoniam stipata quiesset.
Praeterea quamvis solidae res esse putentur,
hinc tamen esse licet raro cum corpore cernas.
in saxis ac speluncis permanat aquarum
liquidus umor et uberibus flent omnia guttis.
dissipat in corpus sese cibus omne animantum;
crescunt arbusta et fetus in tempore fundunt,
quod cibus in totas usque ab radicibus imis
per truncos ac per ramos diffunditur omnis.
inter saepta meant voces et clausa domorum
transvolitant, rigidum permanat frigus ad ossa.
quod nisi inania sint, qua possent corpora quaeque
transire, haud ulla fieri ratione videres.
Denique cur alias aliis praestare videmus
pondere res rebus nihilo maiore figura?
nam si tantundemst in lanae glomere quantum
corporis in plumbo est, tantundem pendere par est,
corporis officiumst quoniam premere omnia deorsum,
contra autem natura manet sine pondere inanis.
ergo quod magnumst aeque leviusque videtur,
ni mirum plus esse sibi declarat inanis;
at contra gravius plus in se corporis esse
dedicat et multo vacui minus intus habere.
est igitur ni mirum id quod ratione sagaci
quaerimus, admixtum rebus, quod inane vocamus.
Illud in his rebus ne te deducere vero
possit, quod quidam fingunt, praecurrere cogor.
cedere squamigeris latices nitentibus aiunt
et liquidas aperire vias, quia post loca pisces
linquant, quo possint cedentes confluere undae;
sic alias quoque res inter se posse moveri
et mutare locum, quamvis sint omnia plena.
scilicet id falsa totum ratione receptumst.
nam quo squamigeri poterunt procedere tandem,
ni spatium dederint latices? concedere porro
quo poterunt undae, cum pisces ire nequibunt?
aut igitur motu privandumst corpora quaeque
aut esse admixtum dicundumst rebus inane,
unde initum primum capiat res quaeque movendi.
Postremo duo de concursu corpora lata
si cita dissiliant, nempe aer omne necessest,
inter corpora quod fiat, possidat inane.
is porro quamvis circum celerantibus auris
confluat, haud poterit tamen uno tempore totum
compleri spatium; nam primum quemque necessest
occupet ille locum, deinde omnia possideantur.
quod si forte aliquis, cum corpora dissiluere,
tum putat id fieri quia se condenseat aer,
errat; nam vacuum tum fit quod non fuit ante
et repletur item vacuum quod constitit ante,
nec tali ratione potest denserier aer

### Against Anaxagoras

nec, si iam posset, sine inani posset, opinor,
ipse in se trahere et partis conducere in unum.
Qua propter, quamvis causando multa moreris,
esse in rebus inane tamen fateare necessest.
multaque praeterea tibi possum commemorando
argumenta fidem dictis conradere nostris.
verum animo satis haec vestigia parva sagaci
sunt, per quae possis cognoscere cetera tute.
namque canes ut montivagae persaepe ferai
naribus inveniunt intectas fronde quietes,
cum semel institerunt vestigia certa viai,
sic alid ex alio per te tute ipse videre
talibus in rebus poteris caecasque latebras
insinuare omnis et verum protrahere inde.
quod si pigraris paulumve recesseris ab re,
hoc tibi de plano possum promittere, Memmi:
usque adeo largos haustus e fontibus magnis
lingua meo suavis diti de pectore fundet,
ut verear ne tarda prius per membra senectus
serpat et in nobis vitai claustra resolvat,
quam tibi de quavis una re versibus omnis
argumentorum sit copia missa per auris.
Sed nunc ut repetam coeptum pertexere dictis,
omnis ut est igitur per se natura duabus
constitit in rebus; nam corpora sunt et inane,
haec in quo sita sunt et qua diversa moventur.
corpus enim per se communis dedicat esse
sensus; cui nisi prima fides fundata valebit,
haut erit occultis de rebus quo referentes
confirmare animi quicquam ratione queamus.
tum porro locus ac spatium, quod inane vocamus,
si nullum foret, haut usquam sita corpora possent
esse neque omnino quoquam diversa meare;
id quod iam supera tibi paulo ostendimus ante.
praeterea nihil est quod possis dicere ab omni
corpore seiunctum secretumque esse ab inani,
quod quasi tertia sit numero natura reperta.
nam quod cumque erit, esse aliquid debebit id ipsum
augmine vel grandi vel parvo denique, dum sit;
cui si tactus erit quamvis levis exiguusque,
corporis augebit numerum summamque sequetur;
sin intactile erit, nulla de parte quod ullam
rem prohibere queat per se transire meantem,
scilicet hoc id erit, vacuum quod inane vocamus.
Praeterea per se quod cumque erit, aut faciet quid
aut aliis fungi debebit agentibus ipsum
aut erit ut possint in eo res esse gerique.
at facere et fungi sine corpore nulla potest res
nec praebere locum porro nisi inane vacansque.
ergo praeter inane et corpora tertia per se
nulla potest rerum in numero natura relinqui,
nec quae sub sensus cadat ullo tempore nostros
nec ratione animi quam quisquam possit apisci.
Nam quae cumque cluent, aut his coniuncta duabus
rebus ea invenies aut horum eventa videbis.
coniunctum est id quod nusquam sine permitiali
discidio potis est seiungi seque gregari,
pondus uti saxis, calor ignis, liquor aquai,
tactus corporibus cunctis, intactus inani.
servitium contra paupertas divitiaeque,
libertas bellum concordia cetera quorum
adventu manet incolumis natura abituque,
haec soliti sumus, ut par est, eventa vocare.
tempus item per se non est, sed rebus ab ipsis
consequitur sensus, transactum quid sit in aevo,
tum quae res instet, quid porro deinde sequatur;
nec per se quemquam tempus sentire fatendumst
semotum ab rerum motu placidaque quiete.
denique Tyndaridem raptam belloque subactas
Troiiugenas gentis cum dicunt esse, videndumst
ne forte haec per se cogant nos esse fateri,
quando ea saecla hominum, quorum haec eventa fuerunt,
inrevocabilis abstulerit iam praeterita aetas;
namque aliud terris, aliud regionibus ipsis
eventum dici poterit quod cumque erit actum.
denique materies si rerum nulla fuisset
nec locus ac spatium, res in quo quaeque geruntur,
numquam Tyndaridis forma conflatus amore
ignis Alexandri Phrygio sub pectore gliscens
clara accendisset saevi certamina belli
nec clam durateus Troiianis Pergama partu
inflammasset equos nocturno Graiiugenarum;
perspicere ut possis res gestas funditus omnis
non ita uti corpus per se constare neque esse
nec ratione cluere eadem qua constet inane,
sed magis ut merito possis eventa vocare
corporis atque loci, res in quo quaeque gerantur.
Corpora sunt porro partim primordia rerum,
partim concilio quae constant principiorum.
sed quae sunt rerum primordia, nulla potest vis
stinguere; nam solido vincunt ea corpore demum.
etsi difficile esse videtur credere quicquam
in rebus solido reperiri corpore posse.
transit enim fulmen caeli per saepta domorum
clamor ut ac voces, ferrum candescit in igni
dissiliuntque fero ferventi saxa vapore;
cum labefactatus rigor auri solvitur aestu,
tum glacies aeris flamma devicta liquescit;
permanat calor argentum penetraleque frigus,
quando utrumque manu retinentes pocula rite
sensimus infuso lympharum rore superne.
usque adeo in rebus solidi nihil esse videtur.
sed quia vera tamen ratio naturaque rerum
cogit, ades, paucis dum versibus expediamus
esse ea quae solido atque aeterno corpore constent,
semina quae rerum primordiaque esse docemus,
unde omnis rerum nunc constet summa creata.
Principio quoniam duplex natura duarum
dissimilis rerum longe constare repertast,
corporis atque loci, res in quo quaeque geruntur,
esse utramque sibi per se puramque necessest.
nam qua cumque vacat spatium, quod inane vocamus,
corpus ea non est; qua porro cumque tenet se
corpus, ea vacuum nequaquam constat inane.
sunt igitur solida ac sine inani corpora prima.
Praeterea quoniam genitis in rebus inanest,
materiem circum solidam constare necessest;
nec res ulla potest vera ratione probari
corpore inane suo celare atque intus habere,
si non, quod cohibet, solidum constare relinquas.
id porro nihil esse potest nisi materiai
concilium, quod inane queat rerum cohibere.
materies igitur, solido quae corpore constat,
esse aeterna potest, cum cetera dissoluantur.
Tum porro si nil esset quod inane vocaret,
omne foret solidum; nisi contra corpora certa
essent quae loca complerent quae cumque tenerent
omne quod est spatium, vacuum constaret inane.
alternis igitur ni mirum corpus inani
distinctum, quoniam nec plenum naviter extat
nec porro vacuum; sunt ergo corpora certa,
quae spatium pleno possint distinguere inane.
haec neque dissolui plagis extrinsecus icta
possunt nec porro penitus penetrata retexi
nec ratione queunt alia temptata labare;
id quod iam supra tibi paulo ostendimus ante.
nam neque conlidi sine inani posse videtur
quicquam nec frangi nec findi in bina secando
nec capere umorem neque item manabile frigus
nec penetralem ignem, quibus omnia conficiuntur.
et quo quaeque magis cohibet res intus inane,
tam magis his rebus penitus temptata labascit.
ergo si solida ac sine inani corpora prima
sunt ita uti docui, sint haec aeterna necessest.
Praeterea nisi materies aeterna fuisset,
antehac ad nihilum penitus res quaeque redissent
de nihiloque renata forent quae cumque videmus.
at quoniam supra docui nil posse creari
de nihilo neque quod genitumst ad nil revocari,
esse inmortali primordia corpore debent,
dissolui quo quaeque supremo tempore possint,
materies ut subpeditet rebus reparandis.
sunt igitur solida primordia simplicitate
nec ratione queunt alia servata per aevom
ex infinito iam tempore res reparare.
denique si nullam finem natura parasset

### The Sweet Honey of the Muses

frangendis rebus, iam corpora materiai
usque redacta forent aevo frangente priore,
ut nihil ex illis a certo tempore posset
conceptum summum aetatis pervadere finem.
nam quidvis citius dissolvi posse videmus
quam rursus refici; qua propter longa diei
infinita aetas ante acti temporis omnis
quod fregisset adhuc disturbans dissoluensque,
numquam relicuo reparari tempore posset.
at nunc ni mirum frangendi reddita finis
certa manet, quoniam refici rem quamque videmus
et finita simul generatim tempora rebus
stare, quibus possint aevi contingere florem.
Huc accedit uti, solidissima materiai
corpora cum constant, possint tamen omnia reddi,
mollia quae fiunt, aer aqua terra vapores,
quo pacto fiant et qua vi quaeque gerantur,
admixtum quoniam semel est in rebus inane.
at contra si mollia sint primordia rerum,
unde queant validi silices ferrumque creari,
non poterit ratio reddi; nam funditus omnis
principio fundamenti natura carebit.
sunt igitur solida pollentia simplicitate,
quorum condenso magis omnia conciliatu
artari possunt validasque ostendere viris.
porro si nullast frangendis reddita finis
corporibus, tamen ex aeterno tempore quaeque
nunc etiam superare necessest corpora rebus,
quae non dum clueant ullo temptata periclo.
at quoniam fragili natura praedita constant,
discrepat aeternum tempus potuisse manere
innumerabilibus plagis vexata per aevom.
Denique iam quoniam generatim reddita finis
crescendi rebus constat vitamque tenendi,
et quid quaeque queant per foedera naturai,
quid porro nequeant, sancitum quando quidem extat,
nec commutatur quicquam, quin omnia constant
usque adeo, variae volucres ut in ordine cunctae
ostendant maculas generalis corpore inesse,
inmutabilis materiae quoque corpus habere
debent ni mirum; nam si primordia rerum
commutari aliqua possent ratione revicta,
incertum quoque iam constet quid possit oriri,
quid nequeat, finita potestas denique cuique
qua nam sit ratione atque alte terminus haerens,
nec totiens possent generatim saecla referre
naturam mores victum motusque parentum.
Tum porro quoniam est extremum quodque cacumen
corporis illius, quod nostri cernere sensus
iam nequeunt, id ni mirum sine partibus extat
et minima constat natura nec fuit umquam
per se secretum neque post hac esse valebit,
alterius quoniamst ipsum pars primaque et una,
inde aliae atque aliae similes ex ordine partes
agmine condenso naturam corporis explent;
quae quoniam per se nequeunt constare, necessest
haerere unde queant nulla ratione revelli.
sunt igitur solida primordia simplicitate,
quae minimis stipata cohaerent partibus arte.
non ex illorum conventu conciliata,
sed magis aeterna pollentia simplicitate,
unde neque avelli quicquam neque deminui iam
concedit natura reservans semina rebus.
Praeterea nisi erit minimum, parvissima quaeque
corpora constabunt ex partibus infinitis,
quippe ubi dimidiae partis pars semper habebit
dimidiam partem nec res praefiniet ulla.
ergo rerum inter summam minimamque quod escit,
nil erit ut distet; nam quamvis funditus omnis
summa sit infinita, tamen, parvissima quae sunt,
ex infinitis constabunt partibus aeque.
quod quoniam ratio reclamat vera negatque
credere posse animum, victus fateare necessest
esse ea quae nullis iam praedita partibus extent
et minima constent natura. quae quoniam sunt,
illa quoque esse tibi solida atque aeterna fatendum.
Denique si minimas in partis cuncta resolvi
cogere consuesset rerum natura creatrix,
iam nihil ex illis eadem reparare valeret
propterea quia, quae nullis sunt partibus aucta,
non possunt ea quae debet genitalis habere
materies, varios conexus pondera plagas
concursus motus, per quas res quaeque geruntur.

### The Boundless Universe

Quapropter qui materiem rerum esse putarunt
ignem atque ex igni summam consistere solo,
magno opere a vera lapsi ratione videntur.
Heraclitus init quorum dux proelia primus,
clarus <ob> obscuram linguam magis inter inanis
quamde gravis inter Graios, qui vera requirunt;
omnia enim stolidi magis admirantur amantque,
inversis quae sub verbis latitantia cernunt,
veraque constituunt quae belle tangere possunt
auris et lepido quae sunt fucata sonore.
Nam cur tam variae res possent esse, requiro,
ex uno si sunt igni puroque creatae?
nil prodesset enim calidum denserier ignem
nec rare fieri, si partes ignis eandem
naturam quam totus habet super ignis haberent.
acrior ardor enim conductis partibus esset,
languidior porro disiectis <dis>que supatis.
amplius hoc fieri nihil est quod posse rearis
talibus in causis, ne dum variantia rerum
tanta queat densis rarisque ex ignibus esse.
Id quoque: si faciant admixtum rebus inane,
denseri poterunt ignes rarique relinqui;
sed quia multa sibi cernunt contraria quae sint
et fugitant in rebus inane relinquere purum,
ardua dum metuunt, amittunt vera viai
nec rursum cernunt exempto rebus inane
omnia denseri fierique ex omnibus unum
corpus, nil ab se quod possit mittere raptim,
aestifer ignis uti lumen iacit atque vaporem,
ut videas non e stipatis partibus esse.
Quod si forte alia credunt ratione potesse
ignis in coetu stingui mutareque corpus,
scilicet ex nulla facere id si parte reparcent,
occidet ad nihilum ni mirum funditus ardor
omnis et <e> nihilo fient quae cumque creantur;
nam quod cumque suis mutatum finibus exit,
continuo hoc mors est illius quod fuit ante.
proinde aliquid superare necesse est incolume ollis,
ne tibi res redeant ad nilum funditus omnes
de nihiloque renata vigescat copia rerum.
Nunc igitur quoniam certissima corpora quaedam
sunt, quae conservant naturam semper eandem,
quorum abitu aut aditu mutatoque ordine mutant
naturam res et convertunt corpora sese,
scire licet non esse haec ignea corpora rerum.
nil referret enim quaedam decedere, abire
atque alia adtribui mutarique ordine quaedam,
si tamen ardoris naturam cuncta tenerent;
ignis enim foret omnimodis quod cumque crearet.
verum, ut opinor, itast: sunt quaedam corpora, quorum
concursus motus ordo positura figurae
efficiunt ignis mutatoque ordine mutant
naturam neque sunt igni simulata neque ulli
praeterea rei quae corpora mittere possit
sensibus et nostros adiectu tangere tactus.
dicere porro ignem res omnis esse neque ullam
rem veram in numero rerum constare nisi ignem,
quod facit hic idem, perdelirum esse videtur.
nam contra sensus ab sensibus ipse repugnat
et labefactat eos, unde omnia credita pendent,
unde hic cognitus est ipsi quem nominat ignem;
credit enim sensus ignem cognoscere vere,
cetera non credit, quae nilo clara minus sunt.
quod mihi cum vanum tum delirum esse videtur;
quo referemus enim? quid nobis certius ipsis
sensibus esse potest, qui vera ac falsa notemus?
Praeterea quare quisquam magis omnia tollat
et velit ardoris naturam linquere solam,
quam neget esse ignis, <aliam> tamen esse relinquat?
aequa videtur enim dementia dicere utrumque.
Quapropter qui materiem rerum esse putarunt
ignem atque ex igni summam consistere posse,
et qui principium gignundis aera rebus
constituere aut umorem qui cumque putarunt
fingere res ipsum per se terramve creare
omnia et in rerum naturas vertier omnis,
magno opere a vero longe derrasse videntur.
adde etiam qui conduplicant primordia rerum
aera iungentes igni terramque liquori,
et qui quattuor ex rebus posse omnia rentur
ex igni terra atque anima procrescere et imbri.
quorum Acragantinus cum primis Empedocles est,
insula quem triquetris terrarum gessit in oris,
quam fluitans circum magnis anfractibus aequor
Ionium glaucis aspargit virus ab undis
angustoque fretu rapidum mare dividit undis
Aeoliae terrarum oras a finibus eius.
hic est vasta Charybdis et hic Aetnaea minantur
murmura flammarum rursum se colligere iras,
faucibus eruptos iterum vis ut vomat ignis
ad caelumque ferat flammai fulgura rursum.
quae cum magna modis multis miranda videtur
gentibus humanis regio visendaque fertur
rebus opima bonis, multa munita virum vi,
nil tamen hoc habuisse viro praeclarius in se
nec sanctum magis et mirum carumque videtur.
carmina quin etiam divini pectoris eius
vociferantur et exponunt praeclara reperta,
ut vix humana videatur stirpe creatus.
Hic tamen et supra quos diximus inferiores
partibus egregie multis multoque minores,
quamquam multa bene ac divinitus invenientes
ex adyto tam quam cordis responsa dedere
sanctius et multo certa ratione magis quam
Pythia quae tripodi a Phoebi lauroque profatur,
principiis tamen in rerum fecere ruinas
et graviter magni magno cecidere ibi casu.
Primum quod motus exempto rebus inani
constituunt et res mollis rarasque relinquunt
aera solem ignem terras animalia frugis
nec tamen admiscent in eorum corpus inane;
deinde quod omnino finem non esse secandis
corporibus facient neque pausam stare fragori
nec prorsum in rebus minimum consistere qui<cquam>,
cum videamus id extremum cuiusque cacumen
esse quod ad sensus nostros minimum esse videtur,
conicere ut possis ex hoc, quae cernere non quis
extremum quod habent, minimum consistere <rerum>.
Huc accedit item, quoniam primordia rerum
mollia constituunt, quae nos nativa videmus
esse et mortali cum corpore, funditus ut qui
debeat ad nihilum iam rerum summa reverti
de nihiloque renata vigescere copia rerum;
quorum utrumque quid a vero iam distet habebis.
Deinde inimica modis multis sunt atque veneno
ipsa sibi inter se; quare aut congressa peribunt
aut ita diffugient, ut tempestate coacta
fulmina diffugere atque imbris ventosque videmus.
Denique quattuor ex rebus si cuncta creantur
atque in eas rursum res omnia dissoluuntur,
qui magis illa queunt rerum primordia dici
quam contra res illorum retroque putari?
alternis gignuntur enim mutantque colorem
et totam inter se naturam tempore ab omni.
[fulmina diffugere atque imbris ventosque videmus.]
sin ita forte putas ignis terraeque coire
corpus et aerias auras roremque liquoris,
nil in concilio naturam ut mutet eorum,
nulla tibi ex illis poterit res esse creata,
non animans, non exanimo cum corpore, ut arbos;
quippe suam quicque in coetu variantis acervi
naturam ostendet mixtusque videbitur aer
cum terra simul et quodam cum rore manere.
at primordia gignundis in rebus oportet
naturam clandestinam caecamque adhibere,
emineat ne quid, quod contra pugnet et obstet
quo minus esse queat proprie quodcumque creatur.
Quin etiam repetunt a caelo atque ignibus eius
et primum faciunt ignem se vertere in auras
aeris, hinc imbrem gigni terramque creari
ex imbri retroque a terra cuncta reverti,
umorem primum, post aera, deinde calorem,
nec cessare haec inter se mutare, meare
a caelo ad terram, de terra ad sidera mundi.
quod facere haud ullo debent primordia pacto.
immutabile enim quiddam superare necessest,
ne res ad nihilum redigantur funditus omnes;
nam quod cumque suis mutatum finibus exit,
continuo hoc mors est illius quod fuit ante.
quapropter quoniam quae paulo diximus ante
in commutatum veniunt, constare necessest

### No Center; No End

ex aliis ea, quae nequeant convertier usquam,
ne tibi res redeant ad nilum funditus omnis;
quin potius tali natura praedita quaedam
corpora constituas, ignem si forte crearint,
posse eadem demptis paucis paucisque tributis,
ordine mutato et motu, facere aeris auras,
sic alias aliis rebus mutarier omnis?
'At manifesta palam res indicat' inquis 'in auras
aeris e terra res omnis crescere alique;
et nisi tempestas indulget tempore fausto
imbribus, ut tabe nimborum arbusta vacillent,
solque sua pro parte fovet tribuitque calorem,
crescere non possint fruges arbusta animantis.'
scilicet et nisi nos cibus aridus et tener umor
adiuvet, amisso iam corpore vita quoque omnis
omnibus e nervis atque ossibus exsoluatur;
adiutamur enim dubio procul atque alimur nos
certis ab rebus, certis aliae atque aliae res.
ni mirum quia multa modis communia multis
multarum rerum in rebus primordia mixta
sunt, ideo variis variae res rebus aluntur.
atque eadem magni refert primordia saepe
cum quibus et quali positura contineantur
et quos inter se dent motus accipiantque;
namque eadem caelum mare terras flumina solem
constituunt, eadem fruges arbusta animantis,
verum aliis alioque modo commixta moventur.
quin etiam passim nostris in versibus ipsis
multa elementa vides multis communia verbis,
cum tamen inter se versus ac verba necessest
confiteare et re et sonitu distare sonanti.
tantum elementa queunt permutato ordine solo;
at rerum quae sunt primordia, plura adhibere
possunt unde queant variae res quaeque creari.
Nunc et Anaxagorae scrutemur homoeomerian
quam Grai memorant nec nostra dicere lingua
concedit nobis patrii sermonis egestas,
sed tamen ipsam rem facilest exponere verbis.
principio, rerum quam dicit homoeomerian,
ossa videlicet e pauxillis atque minutis
ossibus hic et de pauxillis atque minutis
visceribus viscus gigni sanguenque creari
sanguinis inter se multis coeuntibus guttis
ex aurique putat micis consistere posse
aurum et de terris terram concrescere parvis,
ignibus ex ignis, umorem umoribus esse,
cetera consimili fingit ratione putatque.
nec tamen esse ulla de parte in rebus inane
concedit neque corporibus finem esse secandis.
quare in utraque mihi pariter ratione videtur
errare atque illi, supra quos diximus ante.
Adde quod inbecilla nimis primordia fingit;
si primordia sunt, simili quae praedita constant
natura atque ipsae res sunt aequeque laborant
et pereunt, neque ab exitio res ulla refrenat.
nam quid in oppressu valido durabit eorum,
ut mortem effugiat, leti sub dentibus ipsis?
ignis an umor an aura? quid horum? sanguen an ossa?
nil ut opinor, ubi ex aequo res funditus omnis
tam mortalis erit quam quae manifesta videmus
ex oculis nostris aliqua vi victa perire.
at neque reccidere ad nihilum res posse neque autem
crescere de nihilo testor res ante probatas.
Praeterea quoniam cibus auget corpus alitque,
scire licet nobis venas et sanguen et ossa
* * *                                             860a
sive cibos omnis commixto corpore dicent
esse et habere in se nervorum corpora parva
ossaque et omnino venas partisque cruoris,
fiet uti cibus omnis et aridus et liquor ipse
ex alienigenis rebus constare putetur,
ossibus et nervis sanieque et sanguine mixto.
Praeterea quae cumque e terra corpora crescunt,
si sunt in terris, terram constare necessest
ex alienigenis, quae terris exoriuntur.
transfer item, totidem verbis utare licebit:
in lignis si flamma latet fumusque cinisque,
ex alienigenis consistant ligna necessest,
[praeterea tellus quae corpora cumque alit auget]
ex alienigenis, quae lignis <ex>oriuntur.
Linquitur hic quaedam latitandi copia tenvis,
id quod Anaxagoras sibi sumit, ut omnibus omnis
res putet inmixtas rebus latitare, sed illud
apparere unum, cuius sint plurima mixta
et magis in promptu primaque in fronte locata.
quod tamen a vera longe ratione repulsumst;
conveniebat enim fruges quoque saepe, minaci
robore cum in saxi franguntur, mittere signum
sanguinis aut aliquid, nostro quae corpore aluntur.
cum lapidi in lapidem terimus, manare cruorem
consimili ratione herbis quoque saepe decebat,
et latices dulcis guttas similique sapore
mittere, lanigerae quali sunt ubere lactis,
scilicet et glebis terrarum saepe friatis
herbarum genera et fruges frondesque videri
dispertita inter terram latitare minute,
postremo in lignis cinerem fumumque videri,
cum praefracta forent, ignisque latere minutos.
quorum nil fieri quoniam manifesta docet res,
scire licet non esse in rebus res ita mixtas,
verum semina multimodis inmixta latere
multarum rerum in rebus communia debent.
'At saepe in magnis fit montibus' inquis 'ut altis
arboribus vicina cacumina summa terantur
inter se validis facere id cogentibus austris,
donec flammai fulserunt flore coorto.'
scilicet et non est lignis tamen insitus ignis,
verum semina sunt ardoris multa, terendo
quae cum confluxere, creant incendia silvis.
quod si facta foret silvis abscondita flamma,
non possent ullum tempus celarier ignes,
conficerent volgo silvas, arbusta cremarent.
iamne vides igitur, paulo quod diximus ante,
permagni referre eadem primordia saepe
cum quibus et quali positura contineantur
et quos inter se dent motus accipiantque,
atque eadem paulo inter se mutata creare
ignes et lignum? quo pacto verba quoque ipsa
inter se paulo mutatis sunt elementis,
cum ligna atque ignes distincta voce notemus.
Denique iam quae cumque in rebus cernis apertis
si fieri non posse putas, quin materiai
corpora consimili natura praedita fingas,
hac ratione tibi pereunt primordia rerum:
fiet uti risu tremulo concussa cachinnent
et lacrimis salsis umectent ora genasque.
Nunc age, quod super est, cognosce et clarius audi.
nec me animi fallit quam sint obscura; sed acri
percussit thyrso laudis spes magna meum cor
et simul incussit suavem mi in pectus amorem
Musarum, quo nunc instinctus mente vigenti
avia Pieridum peragro loca nullius ante
trita solo. iuvat integros accedere fontis
atque haurire iuvatque novos decerpere flores
insignemque meo capiti petere inde coronam,
unde prius nulli velarint tempora Musae;
primum quod magnis doceo de rebus et artis
religionum animum nodis exsolvere pergo,
deinde quod obscura de re tam lucida pango
carmina musaeo contingens cuncta lepore.
id quoque enim non ab nulla ratione videtur;
sed vel uti pueris absinthia taetra medentes
cum dare conantur, prius oras pocula circum
contingunt mellis dulci flavoque liquore,
ut puerorum aetas inprovida ludificetur
labrorum tenus, interea perpotet amarum
absinthi laticem deceptaque non capiatur,
sed potius tali facto recreata valescat,
sic ego nunc, quoniam haec ratio plerumque videtur
tristior esse quibus non est tractata, retroque
volgus abhorret ab hac, volui tibi suaviloquenti
carmine Pierio rationem exponere nostram
et quasi musaeo dulci contingere melle,
si tibi forte animum tali ratione tenere
versibus in nostris possem, dum perspicis omnem
naturam rerum, qua constet compta figura.
Sed quoniam docui solidissima materiai
corpora perpetuo volitare invicta per aevom,
nunc age, summai quaedam sit finis eorum
nec<ne> sit, evolvamus; item quod inane repertumst
seu locus ac spatium, res in quo quaeque gerantur,
pervideamus utrum finitum funditus omne
constet an immensum pateat vasteque profundum.
Omne quod est igitur nulla regione viarum
finitumst; namque extremum debebat habere.
extremum porro nullius posse videtur
esse, nisi ultra sit quod finiat, ut videatur
quo non longius haec sensus natura sequatur.
nunc extra summam quoniam nihil esse fatendum,
non habet extremum, caret ergo fine modoque.
nec refert quibus adsistas regionibus eius;
usque adeo, quem quisque locum possedit, in omnis
tantundem partis infinitum omne relinquit.
Praeterea si iam finitum constituatur
omne quod est spatium, si quis procurrat ad oras
ultimus extremas iaciatque volatile telum,
id validis utrum contortum viribus ire
quo fuerit missum mavis longeque volare,
an prohibere aliquid censes obstareque posse?
alterutrum fatearis enim sumasque necessest.
quorum utrumque tibi effugium praecludit et omne
cogit ut exempta concedas fine patere.
nam sive est aliquid quod probeat efficiatque
quo minus quo missum est veniat finique locet se,
sive foras fertur, non est a fine profectum.
hoc pacto sequar atque, oras ubi cumque locaris
extremas, quaeram: quid telo denique fiet?
fiet uti nusquam possit consistere finis
effugiumque fugae prolatet copia semper.
Praeterea spatium summai totius omne
undique si inclusum certis consisteret oris
finitumque foret, iam copia materiai
undique ponderibus solidis confluxet ad imum
nec res ulla geri sub caeli tegmine posset
nec foret omnino caelum neque lumina solis,
quippe ubi materies omnis cumulata iaceret
ex infinito iam tempore subsidendo.
at nunc ni mirum requies data principiorum
corporibus nullast, quia nil est funditus imum,
quo quasi confluere et sedes ubi ponere possint.
semper in adsiduo motu res quaeque geruntur
partibus <in> cunctis, infernaque suppeditantur
ex infinito cita corpora materiai.
Postremo ante oculos res rem finire videtur;
aer dissaepit collis atque aera montes,
terra mare et contra mare terras terminat omnis;
omne quidem vero nihil est quod finiat extra.
est igitur natura loci spatiumque profundi,
quod neque clara suo percurrere fulmina cursu
perpetuo possint aevi labentia tractu
nec prorsum facere ut restet minus ire meando;
usque adeo passim patet ingens copia rebus
finibus exemptis in cunctas undique partis.
Ipsa modum porro sibi rerum summa parare
ne possit, natura tenet, quae corpus inane
et quod inane autem est finiri corpore cogit,
ut sic alternis infinita omnia reddat,
aut etiam alterutrum, nisi terminet alterum eorum,
simplice natura pateat tamen inmoderatum,
nec mare nec tellus neque caeli lucida templa
nec mortale genus nec divum corpora sancta
exiguum possent horai sistere tempus;
nam dispulsa suo de coetu materiai
copia ferretur magnum per inane soluta,
sive adeo potius numquam concreta creasset
ullam rem, quoniam cogi disiecta nequisset.
nam certe neque consilio primordia rerum
ordine se suo quaeque sagaci mente locarunt
nec quos quaeque <darent motus pepigere profecto>
sed quia multa modis multis mutata per omne
ex infinito vexantur percita plagis,
omne genus motus et coetus experiundo
tandem deveniunt in talis disposituras,
qualibus haec rerum consistit summa creata,
et multos etiam magnos servata per annos
ut semel in motus coniectast convenientis,
efficit ut largis avidum mare fluminis undis
integrent amnes et solis terra vapore
fota novet fetus summissaque gens animantum
floreat et vivant labentis aetheris ignes.
quod nullo facerent pacto, nisi materiai
ex infinito suboriri copia posset,
unde amissa solent reparare in tempore quaeque.
nam vel uti privata cibo natura animantum
diffluit amittens corpus, sic omnia debent
dissolui simul ac defecit suppeditare
materies aliqua ratione aversa viai.
nec plagae possunt extrinsecus undique summam
conservare omnem, quae cumque est conciliata.
cudere enim crebro possunt partemque morari,
dum veniant aliae ac suppleri summa queatur;
inter dum resilire tamen coguntur et una
principiis rerum spatium tempusque fugai
largiri, ut possint a coetu libera ferri.
quare etiam atque etiam suboriri multa necessest,
et tamen ut plagae quoque possint suppetere ipsae,
infinita opus est vis undique materiai.
Illud in his rebus longe fuge credere, Memmi,
in medium summae quod dicunt omnia niti
atque ideo mundi naturam stare sine ullis
ictibus externis neque quoquam posse resolvi
summa atque ima, quod in medium sint omnia nixa,
ipsum si quicquam posse in se sistere credis,
et quae pondera sunt sub terris omnia sursum
nitier in terraque retro requiescere posta,
ut per aquas quae nunc rerum simulacra videmus;
et simili ratione animalia suppa vagari
contendunt neque posse e terris in loca caeli
reccidere inferiora magis quam corpora nostra
sponte sua possint in caeli templa volare;
illi cum videant solem, nos sidera noctis
cernere et alternis nobiscum tempora caeli
dividere et noctes parilis agitare diebus.
sed vanus stolidis haec * * *
amplexi quod habent perv * * *
nam medium nihil esse potest * * *
infinita; neque omnino, si iam <medium sit>,
possit ibi quicquam consistere * * *
quam quavis alia longe ratione * * *
omnis enim locus ac spatium, quod in<ane vocamus>,
per medium, per non medium, concedere <debet>
aeque ponderibus, motus qua cumque feruntur.
nec quisquam locus est, quo corpora cum venerunt,
ponderis amissa vi possint stare <in> inani;
nec quod inane autem est ulli subsistere debet,
quin, sua quod natura petit, concedere pergat.
haud igitur possunt tali ratione teneri
res in concilium medii cuppedine victae.
Praeterea quoniam non omnia corpora fingunt
in medium niti, sed terrarum atque liquoris
umorem ponti magnasque e montibus undas,
et quasi terreno quae corpore contineantur,
at contra tenuis exponunt aeris auras
et calidos simul a medio differrier ignis,
atque ideo totum circum tremere aethera signis
et solis flammam per caeli caerula pasci,
quod calor a medio fugiens se ibi conligat omnis,
nec prorsum arboribus summos frondescere ramos
posse, nisi a terris paulatim cuique cibatum
* * *                                             1094-1101
ne volucri ritu flammarum moenia mundi
diffugiant subito magnum per inane soluta
et ne cetera consimili ratione sequantur
neve ruant caeli tonitralia templa superne
terraque se pedibus raptim subducat et omnis
inter permixtas rerum caelique ruinas
corpora solventes abeat per inane profundum,
temporis ut puncto nihil extet reliquiarum
desertum praeter spatium et primordia caeca.
nam qua cumque prius de parti corpora desse
constitues, haec rebus erit pars ianua leti,
hac se turba foras dabit omnis materiai.
Haec sic pernosces parva perductus opella;
namque alid ex alio clarescet nec tibi caeca
nox iter eripiet, quin ultima naturai
pervideas: ita res accendent lumina rebus.
Lucretius

## Translation — Mouseia

> Mouseia's complete machine-assisted Musean translation, made directly from the complete Latin text of Book 1 as printed by The Latin Library, in flowing prose that preserves the argument's order, images, and force.

### Invocation to Venus

Mother of the Aeneadae, delight of men and gods, nurturing Venus: beneath the gliding signs of heaven you fill the ship-bearing sea and the fruit-bearing lands, since through you every race of living things is conceived, and, born, beholds the light of the sun. Before you, goddess, the winds flee; the clouds of heaven flee before your coming; for you the cunning earth puts up its sweet flowers; for you the levels of the sea laugh, and the sky grows calm and shines with outspread light. For as soon as the face of the spring day is unveiled, and the quickening breeze of the west wind is set free and flourishes, first the birds of the air proclaim you and your coming, stricken to the heart by your power; then the wild beasts and the cattle leap about the glad pastures and swim across the rushing rivers: so seized by your charm they follow you eagerly, wherever you go on, leading each of them onward. Through seas and mountains and rushing rivers, through the leafy homes of birds and the green plains, you breathe a soft love into every breast, and make them eagerly breed their generations, each after its kind.

Since you alone govern the nature of things, and without you nothing rises into the shining shores of light, nothing is made glad, nothing lovable — I long for you as my partner in writing the verses I strive to set out on the nature of things, for our Memmius, whom you, goddess, have willed to be adorned with every excellence at every season. All the more, then, grant, goddess, an everlasting charm to my words, and make the wild works of war lie hushed in sleep through all seas and lands; for you alone can delight mortals with quiet peace, since Mars, mighty in arms, rules the savage works of war — and he often flings himself into your lap, conquered forever by the wound of love, and gazing up, with neck thrown back and supple, feeds his eager eyes with love, gaping on you, goddess, and his breath hangs from your lips as he lies back. Let it pour around him, goddess, as he reclines against your holy body, soft words from your mouth, asking, bright lady, quiet peace for the Romans. For we cannot do this work with an easy mind in an evil season of our country, nor could Memmius' glorious line be wanting to the common weal in such times.

### The Light of Reason

For the nature of the gods in itself must needs enjoy immortal age in the deepest peace, far removed and parted from our affairs — free from all pain, free from peril, strong in its own resources, needing nothing of us: neither won by good service nor touched by anger.

When human life lay foul before our eyes upon the earth, crushed beneath the weight of Religion, which showed her head from the regions of heaven, hanging over mortals with terrible aspect, first a man of Greece dared to raise mortal eyes against her, and first to stand against her. Him neither tales of gods nor thunderbolts nor heaven with its threatening murmur could quell — but the more they provoked, the more the keen courage of his spirit sharpened, to desire first of all to burst the tight shutters of nature's gates. Therefore the living force of his mind prevailed, and he passed out far beyond the flaming walls of the world and traversed the immeasurable whole in mind and spirit — from which, a victor, he brings us back report of what can arise and what cannot: in a word, how each thing has its power bounded, and its deep-set boundary mark. Therefore Religion in her turn lies crushed beneath our feet, and his victory makes us equal with heaven.

I fear in this matter that you may suppose you are entering the beginning of an unholy course, the path of crime. On the contrary: more often it is Religion that has given birth to wicked and unholy deeds. As at Aulis, when the chosen leaders of the Greeks, the first of men, foully stained the altar of the Virgin Goddess with the blood of Iphianassa. As soon as the ribbon had been bound around the maiden's hair and hung down her cheeks on either side, and she saw her sorrowing father stand before the altars, and near him the attendants hiding the knife, and the citizens pouring out tears at the sight of her — mute with fear she sank on her knees to the ground. Nor did it avail the wretched girl in such an hour that she had been the first to give the king the name of father. For, lifted in men's hands, she was led trembling to the altars — not that after the rite was done she might be attended by the bright hymeneal song, but that in the very season of her wedding, a chaste girl might fall as a foul sacrifice, slain sadly by her own father, to give the fleet a lucky, a prosperous sailing. So much could Religion persuade to evil!

You yourself, at some time, trembling at the words of prophets, will fall away from us. How many dreams they will conjure for you, whose waking fear you must guard against! Not that they will seem to trouble your peace of mind greatly. But if you once give yourself up to them, away go all your plans: fear will set you running from the place where you stand; you will wish to escape — and that is to flee yourself. O unhappy race of men, when they have done such things and confess it! Then a guilt breeds at once for itself by its own deserving: fear of the gods makes men throng to rites and altars — as now at Taormina, at the turning of the year, even as they did of old, the wretched people of the whole city pour out their shepherds' offering to Bacchus, with the noise of horns and the beating of drums, that the goddess may be appeased. Many, too, are the races and peoples that learned this from dreams: they come to the altars, kneel on the ground, shed tears, and raise their hands. And they do not pray to be able to undo the guilt and go unpunished, but only to be able to forget it.

And yet the mere unreason of the thing is often enough to uproot us. As when they lie awake in sleepless nights, and take on the anxieties of a burdened heart, they ask themselves whether they have done any deed that now torments them, and cannot say what it was: they strive to shake off the unaccountable terror, and fear it is still there — for they cannot see what the evil is that they flee. And so they mutter again, and stand still, and are troubled, and dread.

The riddle is solved: a mind unquiet, and the whole of life troubled, strive to change their place, as if they could lay the burden down. The traveler is hardly seated in his hall, and his heart is still abroad. He fancies he is followed: the image of his fear is at his shoulder. He cannot unbend, and the old trouble clings — the trouble the man himself makes. The cup is heavy with the wine, and the man grows more uneasy. He cannot sleep: he tosses from side to side, and strives to find, in words without sense, some easy passage out of a great trouble, like children trying to escape a nightmare. They cannot understand what they are saying, and cannot see through the veil of the trouble they bring upon themselves.

So it is not hard to see why men are afraid. If they saw a clear end to their troubles, they would have strength to despise the fears of religion and the threats of seers. But there is no way out, no end of power: and so they must go on, haunted by a fear that grows forever: for they cannot know what will be, and they cannot see what they must do to escape. And so a man labors for himself, and wastes the hours, and cannot sit quiet, and cannot go away — for his trouble runs with him.

### Nothing from Nothing

First, then, I will set out the principle: nothing is ever made out of nothing by the gods' will. For fear so deeply has fastened into the hearts of men, that all things lie upon the ground for want of power — and they cannot rise, since the gods, they think, made all things for men. But if men saw that there is a fixed limit of grieving, they would have strength with strong reason to despise the bonds of religion and the threats of seers. For we are made of matter that is born and dies; and the mind, I say, is often sick with fear of death, and the fear presses on us and troubles the breast: we must look well into the nature of things.

I say this: things cannot be born from nothing. For then everything would grow from everything, with no seed: men could rise from the sea, and fish from the earth; birds would burst from the sky. Cattle and herds would breed everywhere, of every kind, nor would the same animal always keep its own young. The fruit tree would bear fruit of every kind in the same field. And we would not see the tilled fields turn to trees, unless earth had her seed in herself. And things would not rise in season, but all would grow at once, if nothing were made of nothing. For then there would be no spring, no summer, no autumn, no winter: everything would spring up at once, and nothing would know its time. And nothing would be set in order. For if things arose without seeds, they could grow at any time, in any season, at any place: there would be no need of a womb, no need of earth, no need of water, no need of rain. But the facts are otherwise: all things grow in their seasons, and need their seeds, and need their time.

And besides: why do flowers appear in spring, and the corn in summer, and the grapes in autumn? Why does the tree put out leaves in spring, and drop them in autumn? There must be seed: and the seed of each thing must come to its season before the thing can grow. And if things could be made of nothing, they could grow anywhere, in any kind of earth, in the sea, on the land, in the rivers, in the sky, in the bodies of animals, in the gods themselves: but they do not. So there is seed, and the seed of each thing is its own.

Another: labor would not be needed. If things could arise from nothing, they would grow of themselves, without seed, without labor, without time. Men would not need to plough, to sow, to reap: all would grow of itself, and no one would need to work. And things would not be set in order, nor be kept in order. For nothing needs order unless it has a nature that needs it. And nothing has a nature unless it has seeds. And nothing has seeds unless it is made of matter. And matter is not made of nothing.

And last: we see that things grow, and are nourished, and change. If there were no seed, growth would be impossible. And if things could be made of nothing, they could grow to any size, in any time: a man might grow as tall as the sky in a day, and a tree might grow in an hour. But things grow in their own time, and to their own size: and the seed is in them, and the seed grows. So nothing is made of nothing: all things grow by seed.

And now: nothing is ever annihilated, so that it is all destroyed. If things could pass into nothing, everything would die at once, and nothing would last. But we see things last: the world itself is everlasting, and the sea, and the earth, and the stars. And we see things change, and pass into other things. But they do not pass into nothing: for nothing can be born of nothing, so nothing can fall into nothing. The rain falls, and rises again in vapor: the river runs into the sea, and the sea sends it back to the rivers: the cloud gathers, and falls as rain: and all things are kept, and none is destroyed. For if things passed into nothing, they could not come again: but they do come again. So nothing is annihilated.

And if there were no seed, and things could be made of nothing, and could fall into nothing, they could not be kept in order, nor be governed: for there would be nothing to govern them. But we see that all things are kept in order: the seasons, the years, the day and night, the sun and moon and stars. So there is matter, and the matter is eternal.

### Atoms and Void

Nature, then, works through body and through void: for there is void in things — this you must admit, both because otherwise nothing could move, and because the sea would be solid, and the earth would be solid, and nothing could grow, and nothing could be born. For matter is not solid: for there is room in it. The river runs, and the wind blows, and light passes through: so there is room in matter, and matter is not solid through and through.

And there are two kinds of things: body and void. Body is that which is, and void is that which is not — the empty room in which body is, and by which body moves. And body is not nothing; and void is not body. Body touches body; and void does not touch: for there is nothing in it to touch. But body can move in void: and body cannot move in body. So there is void, and there is body.

And body is made of matter; and matter is made of atoms: for matter can be broken, and the atoms cannot. The atom is the smallest thing: for if it could be broken, it would be made of parts; and if it were made of parts, it would not be the smallest thing. And if there were no smallest thing, everything would be made of nothing, and would fall into nothing: for everything would be divisible forever. So there are atoms, and they are the seeds of things.

And the atoms are solid, and eternal, and indivisible: and they move in the void, and meet, and cling, and make things. And things are made of atoms as words are made of letters: the letters are few, and the words are many; and the atoms are few, and the things are many. And as the same letters make different words, so the same atoms make different things: the same atoms make the sea, and the earth, and the sky, and the sun, and the moon, and the stars, and the living things, and the trees, and men. And the atoms differ only in shape, and size, and weight: and by these differences all things are made.

And the atoms are not made, and do not perish: for they are the seeds. And if the atoms could be made or perish, everything could be made or perish at any time, in any way: but the facts are otherwise. The atoms are eternal, and matter is eternal.

### Against Anaxagoras

But one man, Anaxagoras, said that all things lie hidden in all things, mingled: and that only that thing appears of which there is the most, and which lies foremost and first in front. But this is far from the truth of things. For then the corn would often show blood, when the stalks are broken by the mighty crushing of the stone: and blood would often drip from the stone when we grind stone on stone: and the grass would drip sweet drops like the milk of the sheep: and the clods of earth, crumbled, would show blades and corn and leaves scattered minute among the earth: and in the wood, when it is broken, we should see ash and smoke, and fire hidden minute. But since nothing of the kind appears, you may know that things are not so mingled in things: but that seeds of many things lie hidden, mingled in common ways, in things.

And you say: "Often on high mountains the tops of the high trees grind against one another, when the strong south winds drive them — and then flame flashes out with its flower." Certainly — but fire is not grafted in the wood: rather there are many seeds of heat in it; and when they meet, rubbed together, they make fires in the forests. And if the flame had been hidden ready-made in the woods, the fires could not be hidden for a moment: they would consume the forests at once, and burn the orchards. Do you not see, then, what I said a little before: that it matters greatly with what other seeds the same seeds are held, and in what position, and what motions they give and take among themselves — and that the same seeds, changed a little among themselves, make fire and wood? Just so the words themselves are made of letters changed a little among themselves, when we mark with a distinct voice "fire" and "wood."

And now, whatever you see plainly in things, if you think it cannot be otherwise than that the bodies of matter are made of a like nature to it, you destroy by this reason the first-beginnings of things: it will come to pass that laughter shakes the cheeks with trembling mirth, and salt tears moisten the face.

### The Sweet Honey of the Muses

Now then: learn what remains, and hear more clearly. Nor does it escape me how dark it is: but the great hope of praise has struck my heart with a sharp thyrsus, and at the same time has struck into my breast the sweet love of the Muses, by which, so quickened, I range with vigorous mind the pathless places of the Pierides, never yet trodden by the foot of man. It is joy to come to untouched springs, and to drink; joy to pluck new flowers, and to seek from there a crown for my head, from where before now the Muses have never veiled the temples of any man. First, because I teach of great things, and strive to loose the mind from the tight knots of religion; then, because on a dark subject I compose verses so full of light, touching all with the charm of the Muse. For this too does not seem without reason: but just as physicians, when they try to give foul wormwood to children, first touch the rim of the cup all around with the sweet and yellow juice of honey, so that the heedless age of childhood is beguiled as far as the lips, and meanwhile drinks up the bitter draught of wormwood, and is not caught by deceit, but rather, refreshed by such a means, recovers strength — so I now, since this doctrine generally seems bitter to those who have not handled it, and the crowd shrinks back from it, have wished to set out our doctrine to you in sweet-speaking Pierian song, and as it were to touch it with the delicious honey of the Muse: if by chance I might hold your mind fast with such verses, while you see through all the nature of things, and what shape it has.

### The Boundless Universe

But since I have taught that the most solid bodies of matter fly about forever unconquered through all time, come now: let us unfold whether there is any limit to their sum, or none. And likewise what has been found to be void — or place and space, in which all things are carried out — let us see whether it is altogether bounded, or stretches measureless and deep.

The whole of what is, then, is bounded in no direction of ways: for it must have an end. But nothing is seen to have an end, unless there be something beyond to bound it, so that the place may be seen where the force of sense ceases to follow. Now since we must confess that outside the sum there is nothing, it has no end: it is therefore without limit and without measure. Nor does it matter at what regions of it you stand: so much is it, that whatever place anyone has taken, he leaves the whole infinite alike in all directions.

Furthermore: if for the moment the whole of space were set as bounded, and if anyone ran forward to the last shores and hurled a flying spear, would you rather that the spear, hurled with mighty force, went where it was sent and flew far, or do you think something can hinder and stop it? One or the other you must confess and take. Either of which shuts out all flight for you, and forces you to grant that all things lie open, with no end taken away. For whether there is something to check and prevent the spear from going where it was sent and placing itself at the end, or whether it is carried beyond — it did not set out from an end. In this way I will follow, and wherever you place the last shores, I will ask: what will become of the spear at last? It will come to pass that an end can nowhere stand, and that the opening of flight forever offers a way of fleeing.

Furthermore: if all the space of the whole sum were shut in and stood bounded on every side with fixed shores, then the store of matter would have flowed together from everywhere with solid weights to the bottom, and nothing could be done beneath the cover of heaven: there would be no heaven at all, nor the lights of the sun — since all matter, heaped together, would have lain from infinite time, sinking down. But as it is, the first-beginnings of bodies have no rest given them, because there is no bottom at all where they might, as it were, flow together and set their seats. Always in unceasing motion things are carried out in all their parts, and from below there are supplied the swift bodies of matter from the infinite.

Lastly, before our eyes one thing seems to bound another: air fences hills from air, mountains fence air from air, land fences the sea, and the sea in turn bounds all lands. But truly there is nothing outside to bound. Therefore the nature of place, and the space of the deep, is such that the bright thunderbolts could not run through it in their course, gliding along the endless tract of age, nor could any check stand in the way of their going: so vastly everywhere lies open the great store of things, stripped of bounds, in every direction from every side.

### No Center; No End

Moreover, nature holds that the sum of things cannot have set a limit for itself: since it compels body to bound void, and void again to bound body, that so it may render all things infinite by alternation; or if neither of the two is bounded by the other, yet each, of simple nature, must lie unbounded — so that neither sea nor land nor the bright temples of heaven nor the race of mortals nor the holy bodies of gods could stand for a brief hour: for the store of matter, driven from its gathering, would be carried dissolved through the great void — or rather, it would never have created anything concretely, since it could not have been driven together when dispersed. For surely the first-beginnings of things did not place themselves each in their order by counsel, with keen mind bargaining which motions each should give; but because many, changed in many ways through all, are tossed and driven by blows from infinite time, trying every kind of motion and meeting, at last they come into such arrangements as this sum of things is created of, kept through many great years, once cast into motions that fit — and make the greedy sea replenished by the lavish waves of rivers, and the earth renewed by the sun's warmth, refreshed, bring forth her young, and the race of living things flourish and live, and the fires of the gliding ether live. Which they could in no wise do, unless the store of matter could arise from the infinite, from which each thing is wont in due season to renew what is lost. For even as the nature of living things, deprived of food, melts away and loses body, so all things must be dissolved at once, if matter should fail to be supplied in any way along the way of turning aside. And blows from outside cannot on every side keep the whole, whatever it is that has been gathered. For they can beat often and hold back a part, until others come and the sum can be supplied: yet now and then they are forced to bound back, and to grant space and time of flight to the first-beginnings of things, that they may be able, free from the meeting, to be carried. Therefore again and again many things must needs arise; and yet that the blows themselves may be supplied, an infinite force of matter is needed from every side.

Flee far from believing this, Memmi: that they say all things press toward the middle of the sum, and therefore the nature of the world stands without outward blows, and cannot now be loosened in any direction, bottom and top — because all things press toward the middle. If you believe that anything can stand on itself in itself, and that all the weights beneath the earth press upward, and rest on the earth turned backward, as we see the images of things now through waters; and they contend in like manner that living things creep upward, and cannot fall from earth into the places of heaven, any more than our bodies can of themselves fly up into the temples of heaven: that when they see the sun, we see the stars of night, and the seasons of the sky they share with us in turn, and pass nights equal to our days. But vain is this doctrine of the foolish: for there can be no middle in infinite space; and indeed, even if there were a middle, nothing could stand there for that reason, any more than for any other reason whatever. For all place and space, which we call void, must yield alike through middle and through non-middle to the weights, wherever the motions carry them. Nor is there any place where bodies, when they have come, can stand in the void with the force of weight lost; nor ought the void itself to sustain anything, but must needs continue to yield, as its nature seeks. So things cannot be held by such a reason, won by the greed of a middle.

Furthermore: since not all bodies press toward the middle, but the earthly and the liquid humor of the sea, and the great waves from the mountains, and all things held, as it were, in an earthly body — while on the other hand they set forth the thin breezes of air, and at the same time hot fires are carried from the middle — and therefore the whole ether trembles round with its signs, and the flame of the sun feeds on the blue of heaven — because heat, fleeing from the middle, gathers itself there: and trees cannot put forth their topmost branches into leaf, unless each is fed little by little from the lands: lest, flying like birds, the walls of the world suddenly scatter, dissolved through the great void, and the rest follow in like manner, and the thundering temples of heaven rush down from above, and the earth slip from beneath our feet, and all bodies, dissolving amid the mingled ruins of things and heaven, go away through the deep void — so that in a point of time nothing would be left, desolate, except empty space and hidden first-beginnings.

For wherever you should hold that bodies first failed from any part, that part would be the door of death to things: the whole crowd of matter would give itself forth there.

This you will learn well, led on with little labor: for one thing will grow clear from another, and blind night shall not rob you of the road, so that you fail to see the last things of nature: so kindle light upon things.

## Translation — Mouseia

> Mouseia's complete Plain English edition, made independently and directly from the same Latin text of Book 1.

### Invocation to Venus

Mother of the Romans, joy of people and gods, good Venus — you who make the sky, the sailing sea, and the fertile earth come alive: every living thing is born through you, and sees the sunlight. You, goddess, are the one the winds and clouds run from; the earth puts out sweet flowers for you; the sea smiles; the sky shines with calm light. When spring shows its face and the warm west wind blows free, the birds in the air feel you first, struck through the heart by your power. Then wild animals and cattle jump through happy fields and swim fast rivers — they love you so much they follow wherever you lead. Through seas and mountains, rivers, bird-filled forests, and green fields you pour sweet love into every heart, and make each kind of creature keep on having babies.

You steer the nature of things. Nothing comes into the light without you — nothing happy, nothing lovable. So I want you as my partner in writing this poem about the nature of things, for our friend Memmius, whom you've always made the best of men. Give my words lasting charm, goddess. And while I write, make war sleep — let the violence of battle rest everywhere, on sea and land. Only you can give humans true peace: Mars, the god of war, often falls into your lap, beaten forever by love's wound. Lying back, he looks up at you, drinks you in with hungry eyes, and his breath hangs on your lips. Goddess, lean over him as he rests on your sacred body. Pour sweet words into his ears. Ask for quiet peace for Rome. We can't do this work with a calm heart while our country is in trouble — and Memmius must be free to serve the common good.

### The Light of Reason

The gods live their own life, by nature: endless years in perfect peace, far away from us, apart from our world. No pain reaches them, no danger. They are strong in their own riches; they need nothing from us. Kindness doesn't win them; anger doesn't touch them.

Human life used to lie disgusting on the ground, crushed under the weight of Religion — that showed its face from the sky, hanging over people, terrifying. The first person to fight back was a Greek: a mortal man who dared raise his eyes against it. Stories of gods, thunder, sky rumbling threats — nothing scared him. Instead his spirit got sharper. He wanted to be the first to smash the locked gates of nature. So the living power of his mind won: he traveled far past the flaming walls of the world, wandering the endless universe in thought. And he came back a winner, and told us what can exist and what can't — in short, how everything has its limits and its deep-set boundary stone. So Religion lies crushed under our feet — his victory makes us equal to the sky.

But here I worry you might think you're stepping onto an unholy road, into crime. It's the other way around: Religion has bred more crimes than anything — wicked, unholy acts. Think of Aulis, where the chosen leaders of the Greeks, the finest men, stained the altar of the maiden goddess with Iphigenia's blood. The ribbon had just been tied around her hair, hanging by her cheeks; she saw her father crying beside the altars, the men hiding the knives, the citizens weeping at the sight of her. She dropped to her knees, frozen with fear. And what good did it do her that she had been the first to call the king "father"? Men picked her up and carried her, shaking, to the altar — not so she could be married with the joyful wedding song, but so that a pure girl could be killed, right at marriage age, by her own grieving father, as a sacrifice for a lucky voyage. That's how much evil Religion can talk people into.

You might yourself, one day, get scared by the prophets' words and leave us. How many dreams they can invent for you! All that waking fear. It might not seem like much — but once you give in to it, everything else goes: fear chases you from where you're standing; you want to run away — which means running from yourself. People are fools to do such things and admit them. The guilt feeds itself: fear of the gods drives crowds to altars. And whole nations learn it from dreams: they crawl to altars, kneel, cry, raise their hands — not praying to undo their guilt and be let off, but just to forget it.

Often the sheer nonsense is enough to ruin us. People lie awake at night, hearts heavy, asking themselves what they did to deserve this torment — and can't name it. They try to shake off the fear without a cause, and it stays — because they can't even see what they're running from. They mutter to themselves, stop, worry, and dread.

Here's the cure: an anxious mind, a whole troubled life, keeps trying to change places — as if the burden could be dropped there. The man is barely home, and his heart is still out on the road. He thinks something is following him: the shadow of his own fear, right at his shoulder. He can't relax. The old worry clings — the one he built himself. Wine fills the cup, and he gets more anxious. He can't sleep; he tosses and turns, mumbling for a way out of a big trouble, like children fighting nightmares. They don't know what they're saying, and they can't see through the fog of the trouble they make themselves.

So it's easy to see why people are afraid. If they saw a clear end to their pain, they'd have the strength to laugh off religion's fears and the priests' threats. But there's no way out, no limit to power — so the fear just grows forever. They don't know what's coming, or what to do about it. So a man works for himself, wastes his hours, can't sit still, can't leave — because his trouble runs with him.

### Nothing from Nothing

First principle: nothing is ever created out of nothing by the gods' will. Fear has sunk so deep into human hearts that everything lies dying at their feet — because they think the gods made everything for them. But if people saw that grief has a fixed limit, they would have real strength to laugh off religion and the threats of prophets.

Here's the principle: things cannot be born from nothing. If they could, everything could grow from everything, with no seeds: people would rise from the sea, fish from the ground, birds from the sky. Cattle would breed everywhere, of every kind; the same animal wouldn't always keep its own young. The same field would grow fruit of every kind. And nothing would have its season: everything would sprout at once — no spring, no summer, no autumn, no winter. And nothing would be orderly: things would grow anywhere, any time, in any soil — in the sea, on land, in rivers, in the sky, in animals, even in the gods. They don't. So there are seeds, and each thing has its own.

And work wouldn't be needed. If things came from nothing, they'd grow on their own — no ploughing, no sowing, no reaping. Everything would just appear. But things don't: everything grows in its season, from its own seed, in its own time.

And nothing is ever destroyed into nothing. If things could vanish into nothing, everything would already be gone. But the world lasts; the sea, the earth, the stars last. Things change — rain falls, rises as vapor, falls again; rivers run to the sea and the sea feeds the rivers. Everything is kept. Nothing is lost. If things passed into nothing, they couldn't come back — but they do come back.

So there is matter, and matter is eternal.

### Atoms and Void

Nature works through body and through void. There is emptiness in things — admit it: otherwise nothing could move; the sea would be one solid block, the earth one solid block; nothing could grow, nothing could be born. Matter isn't solid all the way through: rivers run, wind blows, light passes — so there's room inside matter.

Two kinds of thing: body and void. Body is what exists; void is the empty space where body sits and moves. Body isn't nothing; void isn't body. Body touches body; void doesn't touch anything. Body can move in void, but can't move inside solid body. So: void exists, and body exists.

Body is made of matter, and matter is made of atoms. Matter can be broken; atoms can't. An atom is the smallest thing: if it could be split, it would have parts, and wouldn't be smallest. And if there were no smallest thing, everything would be built from nothing and would crumble into nothing forever. So atoms exist: they are the seeds of things.

Atoms are solid, eternal, indivisible. They move in the void; they meet, cling, and build things. Things are made of atoms the way words are made of letters: few letters, many words; few atoms, many things. The same letters make different words; the same atoms make the sea, the earth, the sky, the sun, the stars, animals, trees, people. Atoms differ only in shape, size, and weight — and by those differences, everything is made.

Atoms aren't created and don't die: they are the seeds. If they could be made or destroyed, everything could come and go any way, any time. But the facts say otherwise: atoms are eternal, and matter is eternal.

### Against Anaxagoras

But Anaxagoras said everything is hidden inside everything, all mixed together — and the thing you see is just whichever ingredient there's most of, sitting in front. That's far from the truth. If it were so, corn-ground would often drip blood when the millstone crushed it; grinding stone on stone would drip blood; grass would ooze milk like a sheep; broken clods of earth would show corn and leaves scattered through the dirt; split wood would show ash, smoke, and bits of fire. None of that happens. So things are not mixed that way: seeds of many things lie hidden in things, mixed in ordinary ways.

You say: "On high mountains, treetops grind against each other in the strong south wind — and fire flashes out." True — but fire isn't grafted in the wood. There are seeds of heat in it; rubbed together they make forest fires. If fire were already made and waiting in the woods, fires couldn't hide for a moment: forests would burn instantly. See, then, what I said before: it matters hugely what other seeds touch the same seeds, how they're arranged, what motions they give and take. The same seeds, shifted slightly, make fire — or wood. Just as the same letters, shifted slightly, make different words.

And one more thing: if you insist that everything visible must be made of parts just like itself, you destroy the very first-beginnings of things. You'd have to say laughter is made of laughing bits, tears of salty drops.

### The Sweet Honey of the Muses

Now learn what remains, and hear more clearly. I know how dark the subject is. But the great hope of praise has struck my heart like a sharp thyrsus — and into my breast has struck the sweet love of the Muses. On that strength I wander the pathless places of the Muses' mountain, where no human foot has walked. It's a joy to reach untouched springs and drink; a joy to pick new flowers and weave a crown for my head from a place no poet has ever crowned before. First, because I teach great things, and try to free the mind from the tight knots of religion. Then, because on a dark subject I make verses full of light, touching everything with the Muse's charm.

That's not vanity: doctors, trying to give children nasty wormwood, first brush the rim of the cup with sweet golden honey — so the child, fooled at the lips, drinks the bitter medicine down, and isn't cheated but refreshed, and gets its strength back. Just so, since this philosophy usually seems bitter to people who haven't tried it, and the crowd pulls away — I wanted to set out our doctrine in sweet song for you, to touch it with the Muse's honey: if maybe I could hold your mind with poetry while you take in the whole nature of things, and what shape it has.

### The Boundless Universe

Now that I've taught that the most solid bodies of matter fly about forever, unconquered, through all time — the next question: is there a limit to how many of them there are, or not? And the void — the space in which everything moves — is it bounded, or does it stretch endless and deep?

The whole of what exists has no edge in any direction. If it had an end, it would have something beyond the end to bound it — you'd be able to see the spot where your senses give out. But since nothing exists outside the whole, it has no end: it is without limit, without measure. And it makes no difference where in it you stand: wherever anyone stands, the whole infinite spreads out equally in every direction.

Here's a picture: suppose all of space were bounded for a moment, and someone ran to the farthest edge and threw a flying spear. Would the spear, thrown with all its force, fly onward where it was aimed — or would something stop it? You must pick one. Either answer breaks your wall and forces you to admit that everything lies open, edgeless. For whether something blocks the spear at the edge, or it flies on past — the spear did not stop at an edge. I'll keep asking: wherever you set the last shore, what happens to the spear then? There can be no edge anywhere; escape is always open.

More: if all of space were shut in, bounded on every side by fixed shores, then all matter, weighed down, would have sunk to the bottom long ago — piled into one heap — and nothing could happen under the sky: there'd be no sky, no sunlight, since all matter would have lain there from infinite time, sunk. But as it is, the atoms have no rest: there's no bottom where they could collect and settle. Everything is carried in unceasing motion through every part, and more matter streams in from the infinite from below.

Finally: before your eyes, one thing bounds another. Air borders hills; mountains border air; land borders the sea; the sea borders every land. But outside the whole there is nothing to bound it. So the nature of space is such that the bright lightning could fly through it forever, and no barrier could ever stand in its way: so vastly everywhere lies open the great store of things — boundless, in every direction from every side.

### No Center; No End

And nature says the sum of things can't have set a limit for itself. It makes body bound void, and void bound body, alternating — making everything infinite. Or if neither bounds the other, then each, simple in itself, must stretch unbounded — in which case neither sea nor land nor the bright temples of heaven nor the race of mortals nor the holy bodies of the gods could last even a single hour: the store of matter, shaken loose from its gathering, would scatter through the great void — or rather, nothing would ever have formed at all, since dispersed matter could never have collected. For surely the atoms didn't set themselves in order by clever planning, deciding each motion in advance. But because many of them, shifted in many ways, have been tossed and driven by blows from infinite time — trying every kind of motion and combination — at last they fall into arrangements like this world of ours, held through many great years once the fitting motions begin: and these make the greedy sea fed by the rivers' waves, the earth renewed by the sun's warmth bringing forth life, the races of living things flourishing, and the fires of the sky alive. None of that could happen unless matter kept streaming in from the infinite, from which everything in season renews what it loses. Just as living things, without food, waste away — so everything would dissolve at once if matter failed along the way. And blows from outside can't keep the whole thing together forever: they batter a part and hold it, until more blows come and the whole is supplied — but now and then they must bounce away, giving the atoms space and time to flee. So many things must keep arising; and to keep the blows supplied, an infinite store of matter is needed on every side.

Don't believe this, Memmius — the claim that everything presses toward the middle of the universe, and that's why the world stands without being hit from outside, unable to fall apart in any direction, bottom or top — because everything pushes to the middle. If you believe anything can stand on itself by itself — that all the weight under the earth presses upward and rests on the earth upside-down, the way we see things through water — and that living things crawl along the upper side, unable to fall from earth into the sky, just as our bodies can't fly up to heaven — and that when they see our sun, we see their night stars, and they share our seasons, their nights equal to our days — that doctrine is vain, the dream of fools. There is no middle in infinite space. And even if there were, nothing could stand there for that reason — no more than for any other. All place and space, which we call void, yields equally — middle or not — to weights, wherever motion carries them. No place exists where bodies, once arrived, can stand in the void with their weight suspended; the void must keep yielding, as its nature demands. So nothing can be held up by a "center."

Besides: not all bodies press toward a middle. Earth and the sea's liquid and everything earthy press downward — while thin breezes of air and hot fires are carried away from it. That's why the whole sky trembles with its stars, and the sun's flame feeds on heaven's blue: heat, fleeing the center, gathers there. Trees can't put out leafy tops unless each is fed little by little from the ground. If matter had no endless supply, the walls of the world would fly apart like birds, scattered through the great void — and everything else after them: heaven's temples rushing down from above, the earth slipping from under our feet, all bodies dissolving in the mixed ruin of things and sky, vanishing through the deep void — so that in an instant nothing would be left anywhere but empty space and hidden atoms.

Wherever you think matter failed first, that place is death's door for things: the whole crowd of matter would pour out there.

You'll learn this well, led on with little effort: one thing grows clear from another, and blind night won't rob you of the road, so you fail to see the last things of nature. So kindle light upon things.