On the Nature of the Universe (Oxford World’s Classics) Page 10

Indeed things we can see, if some great distance

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  Divides them from us, oft conceal their movements.

  You see sheep on a hillside creeping forward

  Cropping the fresh green grass new-pearled with dew

  Where pastures new invite and tempt them on,

  And fat lambs play and butt and frisk around.

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  We see all this confused and blurred by distance,

  A white patch standing still amid the green.

  And when in mimic war the mighty legions

  Fill all the plain with movements far and wide,

  And sheen of armour rises to the sky;

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  Earth flashes with bronze; the tramp of marching feet

  Resounds on high; the hills struck by the noise

  Throw back the echoes to the stars of heaven;

  And wheeling horsemen gallop, and suddenly

  Charge, and shake all the plain with their attack—

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  And yet among high mountains there’s a place

  From which they seem to stand still, motionless,

  A flash of brightness on the plain below.

  Now let us consider the qualities of atoms,

  The extent to which they differ in their shapes

  And all the rich variety of their figures.

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  Not that there are not many of the same shape,

  But all by no means are identical.

  Nor is this strange. For since their multitude

  As I have shown has neither sum nor end,

  Not all, for sure, must be the same in build

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  As all the rest, nor marked by the same shape.

  Consider the race of men, and silent shoals

  Of scaly fish, fat cattle, and wild beasts,

  And all the varied birds that throng the waters

  By joyful lakes and streams and river banks,

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  And flock and fly among the pathless woods.

  Take any one you will among its kind,

  And you will find they all have different shapes.

  This is the only way the young can know

  Their mothers, and the mothers know their young.

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  And this we see they do; no less than men

  They recognize each other readily.

  For oft in front of noble shrines of gods

  A calf falls slain beside the incensed altars,

  A stream of hot blood gushing from its breast.

  The mother wandering through the leafy glens

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  Bereaved seeks on the ground the cloven footprints.

  With questing eyes she seeks if anywhere

  Her lost child may be seen; she stands, and fills with moaning

  The woodland glades; she comes back to the byre

  Time and again in yearning for her calf.

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  Nor tender willows nor meadows lush with dew

  Nor those sweet rivers brimming to their banks

  Can charm her mind or ease the sudden care,

  Nor sight of other calves in happy pastures

  Divert her mind and lift the care away,

  So does she seek what was her own, her darling,

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  So steadfastly the child she knows so well.

  And tender kids with trembling voices know

  Their horned mothers well, and playful lambs

  The bleating ewes. So each as Nature bids

  To its own udder scampers back for milk.

  Lastly, consider corn of any kind.

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  Not every grain you’ll find is quite the same,

  But through their shapes there runs some difference.

  So likewise all the various shells we see

  Painting the lap of earth, the curving shore

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  Where waves beat softly on the thirsty sands.

  Therefore again and yet again I say

  That in the same way it must be that atoms,

  Since they exist by nature and are not made by hand

  To the fixed pattern of a single atom,

  Must, some of them, be different in their shapes.

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  With this in mind it is easy to explain

  Why the fire of lightning penetrates much further

  Than our fire does which springs from earthly torches.

  For you could say that the heavenly fire of lightning

  Is finer, being composed of smaller shapes

  And therefore passes through apertures impassable

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  By our fire sprung from wood and lit by torch.

  Besides, light passes through a pane of horn, but rain

  Is thrown off. Why? Because the atoms of light

  Are smaller than those that make life-giving water.

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  And though we see wine pass quickly through a strainer,

  Yet olive oil by contrast lags and lingers;

  No doubt, either because its atoms are larger

  Or they are more hooked and more closely interwoven,

  And therefore cannot separate so quickly

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  And trickle through the holes each one by one.

  And here’s another thing. Honey and milk

  Rolled in the mouth have a delightful taste;

  But bitter wormwood and harsh centaury

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  Quite screw the face up with their loathsome flavour.

  So you can easily see that smooth round atoms

  Make up things which give pleasure to our senses,

  But, by contrast, things that seem harsh and bitter

  Are more composed of atoms that are hooked,

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  Which therefore tear their way into our senses,

  And entering break the surface of our bodies.

  There is conflict between those things that strike the senses

  As good or bad, because their shapes are different.

  The strident rasping of a screeching saw

  You must not think consists of elements

  As smooth as melodies musicians shape

  Waking the tuneful lyre with nimble fingers.

  Nor must you think that atoms of the same shape

  Enter men’s nostrils when foul corpses burn

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  As when Cilician saffron o’er the stage

  Is freshly cast, or when a near-by altar

  Exhales the perfumes of Arabia.

  And colours too, whose beauty feeds the eye,

  Cannot be composed of atoms similar

  To those that prick the pupil and force tears,

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  Or bring through ugliness disgust and loathing.

  For everything that charms the senses must

  Contain some smoothness in its primal atoms.

  But by contrast things that are harsh and painful

  Are found to have some roughness in their matter.

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  Some atoms are rightly thought to be neither smooth

  Nor altogether hooked, with curving points,

  But rather to have angles projecting slightly;

  These tickle our senses without harming them.

  Of such kind are wine-lees and piquant endive.

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  And fire with heat and frost with cold have teeth

  That bite our senses in quite different ways,

  As touch in each case indicates to us.

  For touch (by all the holy powers of heaven!),

  Touch is the body’s sense, whether from outside

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  A thing slips in, or something inside hurts us,

  Or pleasure comes when something issues forth

  In procreative acts of Venus, or when some blow

  Upsets the body’s atoms and we feel

  Disordered by their ferment—and for proof

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&nbs
p; Hit yourself anywhere with your own hand!

  So atoms must have widely different shapes

  Since they can cause such varying sensations.

  Again, things that seem hard and dense must be

  Composed much more of atoms hooked together

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  Held tight deep down by branch-like particles.

  First in this class and in the leading rank

  Stand diamonds, well used to scorn all blows.

  Next come stout flints and the hard strength of iron

  And bronze that fights and shrieks when bolts are shot.

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  But liquids in their fluid composition

  Must consist more of atoms smooth and round.

  You can pour poppy seeds as easily as water,

  The tiny spheres do not hold each other back,

  And if you knock a heap of them they run

  Downhill in the same way as water does.

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  And all those things you see that in an instant

  Disperse, like smoke or clouds or flames, must be,

  If not composed entirely of smooth round atoms,

  At least not hampered by a close-knit texture,

  So they can sting the body and pass through stones

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  Without adhering together. So you can see

  That all things of this kind that prick the senses

  Are made of atoms sharp but not enmeshed.

  And some things too can be both fluid and bitter,

  Like the salt sea. This should cause no surprise.

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  For, being fluid, it consists of smooth round atoms,

  And rough ones are mixed with them, thus causing pain.

  There is no need for them to be hooked together.

  You must know that they are round as well as rough

  And so can roll and also hurt the senses.

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  It can be shown that Neptune’s bitter brine

  Comes from a mixture of atoms, rough with smooth.

  There is a way to separate them. You can see

  How the sweet water, when the same is filtered

  Through many layers of earth, runs separately

  Into a pit and loses all its saltness.

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  The atoms of nauseous salt are left on top.

  Since being rough they adhere more to the earth.

  Now I have explained this I will link a fact

  Associated with it and gaining credence from it:

  That atoms have a finite number of shapes.

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  If this were not so, then inevitably

  Some atoms will have to be of infinite size.

  Within the small space of a single atom

  There can be no large variety of shapes.

  Suppose that atoms consist of three minimal parts,

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  Or make them larger by adding a few more,

  When you have taken those parts of a single body

  And turned them top to bottom, changed them right and left,

  And have worked out in every possible way

  What shape each order gives to the whole body,

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  Then, if you wish perhaps to vary the shapes,

  You must add other parts; thence it will follow

  That if you wish to change the shapes still further

  The arrangement in like manner will need others.

  Therefore novelty of shape involves

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  Increase in size. And so you cannot believe

  That atoms differ infinitely in shape

  Or you will make some have enormous magnitude,

  Which I have proved above to be impossible.

  Were it not so, the Orient’s richest robes

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  And gleaming silks of Meliboean purple

  Dyed with the hues of shells of Thessaly,

  And peacocks’ golden breed of laughing beauty,

  All, put to shame, would pale before new colours.

  Myrrh’s scent and honey’s taste would be despised,

  The swan’s sweet song, the high-wrought melodies

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  Of Phoebus’ lyre would vanish, crushed and silent.

  Always there would be something more excellent.

  And as we see good things would yield to better,

  So turning back, they might give way to worse.

  Things might well come successively more filthy

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  And foul to eyes and ears and mouth and nostrils.

  Since this does not occur, but things are bound

  By limits at each extreme, you must admit

  A limit too for matter’s different forms.

  The path that leads from fires to icy frosts

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  Also is finite, and the way back is finite.

  There are heat and cold and middle temperatures

  Between the two which make the range complete.

  A finite distance governs their creation,

  And two points mark the extremes at either end,

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  Where flame scorches the one and frost the other.

  Now I have explained this I will link a fact

  Associated with it, and gaining credence from it:

  That atoms which are made of similar shapes

  Are infinite in number. Since the variety

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  Of shapes is finite, then of necessity

  The number of similar shapes must be infinite,

  Or else the sum of matter would be finite,

  Which I have proved it not to be, and in my verses

  Have shown that the universe is held together

  From infinity by particles of matter

  In endless chain of impacts everywhere.

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  You can see that certain animals are rarer,

  And nature grants them less fertility;

  Yet other climes and places, distant lands,

  Breed many of that kind, to swell the total.

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  Of quadrupeds among the first we see

  Snake-handed elephants, where India

  Lies safe behind a wall of countless thousands,

  Of ivory, a rampart none can pass.

  So huge the number is of those great beasts,

  Of which we see but very few examples.

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  Let me concede this too: let us suppose

  One thing exists alone, unique from birth,

  That has no likeness in the whole wide world.

  Unless there is an infinite supply

  Of matter to conceive it, give it birth,

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  It would have no chance of ever being created,

  Still less of growth and further nourishment.

  Let us assume also that a finite number

  Of atoms generative of one single thing

  Exists, dispersed at large through the universe,

  Then whence, then where, by what force, in what way

  Shall they combine and meet in that vast sea,

  That alien turmoil of endless matter?

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  They have no means, I think, of union ever.

  Observe, when some great flotilla has been wrecked

  How the sea throws up pieces everywhere,

  And scatters thwarts, ribs, masts, yards, oars adrift,

  And every shore along the coast can see

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  Stern-posts a-floating, warning mortal men

  To shun the snares and violence and guile

  Of the false faithless sea, and never trust

  A calm sea’s smiling treacherous blandishments.

  So, if you once decide that certain atoms

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  Are in number finite, through all time they must be tossed

  And scattered on conflicting tides of matter,

  Unable ever to join and form connections

 
Or stay connected or to grow by increase.

  But plain fact shows that both these things do happen:

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  Things can be born, and being born can grow.

  Therefore it is obvious that an infinite number

  Of primal atoms exists of every kind

  So as to maintain the supply of everything.

  Thus never can the motions of destruction

  Prevail for ever, entombing life for ever,

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  Nor can the motions of creation and growth

  Forever keep intact what they have fashioned.

  Thus the war waged between the primal atoms

  Is fought from infinity on equal terms.

  Now here, now there, the vital powers in things

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  Vanquish and in turn are vanquished. The funeral dirge

  Blends with the wailing of the infant child

  When first newborn it sees the shores of light.

  No night has followed day, no dawn a night,

  That has not heard, mixed with those fretful cries,

  Laments that march with death and death’s dark obsequies.

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  Now here’s another thing you should keep signed and sealed

  And locked and treasured in your memory:

  That there is nothing, among all things visible,

  That consists of one kind of atom only;

  Nothing that is not a mixture of elements.

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  The more qualities and powers a thing possesses,

  The more it tells that it has great quantity

  Of different atoms and of varied shapes.

  Firstly, the earth holds atoms in itself

  From which the springs, their coolness welling forth,

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  Continually renew the boundless sea.

  It holds those atoms too whence fires are born.

  The surface of the earth in many a place

  Is set alight and burns, while from deep down

  The fires arise that kindle Etna’s fury.

  Further, it holds the means to raise bright crops

  And joyful orchards for the race of men,

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  And rivers too and leaves and joyful pastures

  For creatures of the wild that range the hills.

  Therefore the earth and earth alone is named

  Great Mother of the Gods, Mother of beasts,

  And procreatress of our human frame.

  Of her of old the Grecian poets sang

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  Learned in ancient lore; a goddess she

  In chariot seated by two lions drawn;

  Teaching thereby that the world’s mighty mass

  Hangs fast in space, and earth cannot rest on earth.

  They yoked wild beasts to show that stubborn children

  Must be subdued by parents’ loving care.

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  Upon her head they set a mural crown

  Because established safe on chosen heights

  Well fortified she bears the weight of cities.