On the Nature of the Universe (Oxford World’s Classics) Read online

  Into the depths compacted and compressed.

  For only then the limbs relax and lie.

  For there is no doubt that by the work of the spirit

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  Sensation comes, and when sleep deadens it

  We must suppose that the spirit has been disordered

  And quite cast out; not all of it; for then the body

  Would lie steeped in the eternal chill of death.

  Since if no part of the spirit remained hidden

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  In our body, as fire lies covered deep in ashes,

  Whence could our feeling suddenly through the limbs

  Rekindle, as flame leaps from hidden fire?

  But by what cause this new state comes to pass

  And whence the spirit can be disordered, and how

  The body made to languish, I will explain.

  930

  Please see that my words are not wasted on the winds.

  First it must be that since the body is touched

  By the motions of the air surrounding it

  Its outer part by frequent blows of air

  Is thumped and buffeted; and that is why

  Nearly all things that live and grow are covered

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  By skin or even shells or rind or bark.

  The body’s inside also when we breathe

  This same air strikes, drawn in and out. And so

  Since the body is beaten outside and in, and since

  The blows through tiny channels penetrate

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  The primary parts and primal elements,

  Slowly, collapse (as it were) occurs in the limbs.

  The atoms of mind and body are dislodged

  From their positions. Next part of the spirit

  Is ejected out, and part withdraws within,

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  And part also is scattered through the body

  And so cannot unite and combine in motion.

  For nature blocks the paths and meeting places,

  So feeling sinks down deep when the motions are changed.

  And since there is nothing to prop up the limbs,

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  The body becomes weak, the limbs grow faint,

  Arms and eyelids fall, and as we lie down

  The knees give way and all their strength is gone.

  Again sleep follows food, since it acts like air

  When it has dissolved through all the veins.

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  And much the deepest sleep is that which comes

  From satiety or weariness, for then

  The greatest number of atoms is disordered,

  Bruised by much labour. Of the spirit too

  In the same way a part is thrown together

  At a greater depth, and the part ejected is greater,

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  And the separations and divisions magnified.

  And those pursuits which most we love to follow,

  The things in which just now we have been engaged,

  The mind being thus the more intent upon them,

  These are most oft the substance of our dreams.

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  Lawyers argue their cases and make laws,

  Generals fight battles, leading troops to war,

  Sailors pursue their struggles with the wind,

  And I ply my own task and seek the nature of things

  Always, and tell them in our native tongue.

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  All other pursuits and arts seem thus in dreams

  To hold the minds of men with their illusions.

  When men have been to games and theatres

  For many days, we usually see,

  When they have ceased to observe these with their senses,

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  That paths are left still open in the mind

  By which the images of these things can enter.

  For many days then these same things are moving

  Before their eyes, so that even while awake

  They seem to see dancers swaying supple limbs,

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  And the lyre’s liquid notes and speaking strings

  Enter their ears, and the same audience

  They see and the varied glories of the stage.

  So great is the effect of interest and pleasure

  And of things which form the habits of men’s lives,

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  Not only of men, but of all animals.

  You will see horses, when they lie in sleep,

  Break out in sweat and panting hard and fast

  As if straining every nerve to win a race,

  Or plunging from the opened starting gates.

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  And often hounds lying in gentle sleep

  Suddenly throw up their legs and all at once

  Give tongue and keenly sniff the air, as if

  They have found and held the scent of some wild beast.

  And even when awake they often chase

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  Phantoms of stags as though they saw them in flight

  Until, the error spent, they come to their senses.

  A litter of soft puppies, household pets,

  Will shake themselves and jump up, just as if

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  They saw the forms and faces of strangers coming in.

  And the fiercer the breed, the wilder it is in its dreams.

  And birds fly up and suddenly at night

  With whirring wings disturb the gods’ dark groves,

  If in their quiet sleep dreams come to them

  Of hawks stooping to the fray in hot pursuit.

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  And mighty men do mighty deeds in dreams.

  Kings conquer, and are captured, and give battle,

  And scream with the assassin’s dagger at their throats,

  All without moving from the spot. Men fight

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  And groan in pain and fill the air with cries

  As if in the jaws of a panther or a lion.

  And men in sleep things of great moment tell

  And by their words themselves betray their guilt.

  Many meet death. And many from high cliffs

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  Feeling themselves falling are beside themselves

  And start from sleep almost out of their minds, and hardly

  Recover from the torment of their body.

  A thirsty man oft sits beside a river

  Or pleasant spring and nearly drinks it up.

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  And often boys held fast in sleep believe

  They are standing by a privy or chamber pot

  Lifting their clothes, and pour out all the fluid

  That has filtered through their body and drench the sheets

  And splendid Babylonian coverlets.

  And others, when the seed first penetrates

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  The racing tides of youth, as time matures it,

  Meet with a wandering image from some body

  That tells of lovely face and rosy cheeks,

  And this excites the parts swelling with seed,

  And so, as if the act were being performed,

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  They pour a great flood out and stain their clothes.

  This seed I speak of is stirred up in us

  As soon as manhood in our limbs grows strong.

  And different things respond to different forces.

  But only man from man draws human seed.

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  As soon as seed comes out from its retreats,

  It travels through every member of the body

  And gathers in a fixed place in the loins

  And arouses straight away the genital parts.

  The parts swell with the seed, then comes desire

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  To eject it where the dire craving pulls

  And the body seeks that which has wounded the mind with love.

  For men in battle fall towards a wound

  And th
e blood spurts out in the direction of the blow

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  And if he is close the foe is drenched in blood.

  So therefore when the shafts of Venus strike,

  Whether a boy with girlish limbs has thrown it

  Or a woman from her whole body launches love,

  He leans towards the blow, desires to unite,

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  And cast the fluid from body into body;

  His speechless yearning tells of bliss to come.

  This is our Venus; hence the name of love;

  Hence into the heart distilled the drop

  Of Venus’ sweetness, and numbing heartache followed.

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  For if what you love is absent, none the less

  Its images are there, and the sweet name

  Sounds in your ears. Ah, cursed images!

  Flee them you must and all the food of love

  Reject, and turn the mind away, and throw

  The pent-up fluid into other bodies,

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  And let it go, not with one single love

  Straitjacketed, not storing in your heart

  The certainty of endless cares and pain.

  For feeding quickens the sore and strengthens it,

  And day by day the madness grows and woe

  Is heaped on woe, unless the first wounds by new blows

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  Are deadened and while the wound’s still fresh you cure it

  By wandering with Venus of the streets,

  Or to some newer purpose turn your mind.

  And by avoiding love you need not miss

  The fruits that Venus offers, but instead

  You may take the goods without the penalty.

  For sure from this a purer pleasure comes

  1075

  To the healthy than to the lovesick. Yes, for in

  The moment of possession lovers’ minds

  Are all at sea storm-tossed, confused, and can’t

  Decide what first to enjoy with eye or hand,

  They hurt the body they love, so close they press,

  They kiss so fiercely that teeth enter lips,

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  All this because the pleasure is not pure,

  And hidden stings there are which make them harm

  Whatever it be from which the frenzy comes.

  But in their loving Venus lightly lifts

  The penalties she inflicts, and soothing pleasure

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  Holds back the sting; for there is hope in it

  That the same body whence the frenzy came

  May have the power also to quench the fire—

  And that does nature totally reject.

  This is the only thing for which the more we have

  The more the heart burns with fell desire for it.

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  For food and drink are taken into the body

  And since they can enter their appointed places

  Easily the desire for water and bread is met.

  But from a pretty face or rosy cheeks

  Nothing comes into the body to enjoy

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  But images, thin images, fond hopes,

  For often they are scattered to the winds.

  As when in dreams a thirsty man seeks water

  And none is given to quench the fire within

  But he seeks the image of the water all in vain

  And standing in a river thirsts while he drinks,

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  So in love Venus mocks lovers with images.

  They cannot satisfy their eyes with looking,

  Nor with hands wandering aimless o’er the body

  Can they glean anything from tender limbs;

  And when at last with body clasped to body

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  They pluck the flower of youth, when body knows

  The bliss to come and Venus is ready, poised

  To sow the fields of love, they cling together

  Mouth pressed to watering mouth and lips to lips

  Drawing deep breaths as body calls to body.

  In vain. For they can rub nothing off from it,

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  Neither can body be absorbed in body.

  For that sometimes they seem to want and strive for,

  So ardently in Venus’ toils they cling

  Their limbs with rapture liquefied and melted.

  At last when all the pent-up lust is spent

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  There comes a brief pause in the raging fever;

  But then the fit returns, madness comes back,

  They ask themselves what it is they are craving for,

  They can find no device to cure their ill,

  Bewildered and confused they waste away,

  The hapless victims of an unseen wound.

  1120

  And add this also, they consume their strength,

  The effort kills them; and their days are passed

  Obeying another’s whim. Wealth vanishes

  Turned into Babylonian coverlets.

  Duties neglected, reputation falls.

  For her, soft lovely slippers from Sicyon

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  Shine on her feet, great emeralds set in gold

  Glow with green light, the sea-blue dress well worn

  In constant use absorbs the sweat of Venus.

  The family’s wealth, hard earned, binds up her hair

  Turned into a tiara or becomes

  A gown of silk from Elis or from Ceos.

  1130

  Banquets with shining tables and rich fare,

  Wines, dancers, ointments, garlands, ribbons—

  All useless; since from the very fount of joy

  Something bitter comes, and midst the flowers

  Brings torment. Perchance a guilty conscience bites

  1135

  With rue for years of idleness and vice,

  Perchance she’s spoken some doubtful word which sticks

  And burns like fire in his yearning heart;

  Or else he thinks she moves her eyes too much,

  Too many glances at another man,

  And in her face a hint of mockery.

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  These evils can be found in love that prospers

  And goes well; but in a love that’s starved and wretched

  Though your eyes be closed they are there all plain to see,

  Innumerable; so be on your guard,

  Take my advice and keep your fancy free.

  1145

  For to avoid being captured in the snares of love

  Is not so difficult as to escape

  Once in, and break the powerful knots of Venus.

  And yet, although entangled and ensnared,

  You can escape this danger unless you stand

  1150

  In your own way, and overlook the faults

  In the body and the mind of her you love,

  For this is what men blinded with desire

  So often do, attributing to them

  Virtues with which in truth they are not endowed.

  So ugly and mis-shapen women are called

  1155

  Sweet charmers and are held in highest honour.

  A lover derides another, and urges him

  To propitiate Venus since his love’s so foul,

  But cannot see his own disastrous plight.

  The dark girl is a nut-brown maid, the rank

  And filthy is a sweet disorder. Is she green-eyed?

  1160

  Then she’s grey-eyed Athene. Stringy and wooden?

  Then she’s a gazelle. Is she a dwarf? Why then

  She’s one of the Graces, the very soul of wit.

  A giantess? She’s full of dignity.

  If she stammers, she has a lisp. If dumb, she’s modest.

  If she’s a fiery hateful chatterbox,

  1165

  She’s a little squib. If she’s too thin to live,

  She’s s
velte and willowy. If she’s half dead

  With coughing, then she’s delicate, you see.

  Is she swollen, with enormous breasts? She’s Ceres

  Suckling Iacchus. She’s a faun or satyr

  If she’s snub-nosed. If she’s thick-lipped she’s ‘Kissie’.

  I will not weary you with all the rest.

  1170

  But let her have the finest face of all,

  Let Venus radiate from all her body,

  Still there are others; still we have lived so far

  Without this woman; still, as well we know,

  She does things which the plainest women do.

  She fumigates herself, poor wretch, with odours

  1175

  So foul and evil-smelling that her maids

  Keep well away and laugh behind her back.

  The lover, shut out, weeping, heaps the threshold

  With flowers, anoints the proud doorposts with perfumes,

  And plants his lovesick kisses on the door.

  But, once admitted, one whiff would promptly make him

  1180

  Seek some polite excuse to take his leave;

  His fond complaint, deep-seated, long-rehearsed,

  Would turn to nothing, he’ld damn his stupid folly

  In placing her above all mortal women.

  Our Venuses know this; hence the pains they take

  1185

  To hide all that goes on behind the scenes

  From those they wish to hold in chains of love.

  In vain; for in your mind as clear as day

  You can see it, and all those other absurdities.

  And if you like her mind and she’s good-tempered,

  Why then you in your turn can overlook

  1190

  And make allowances for human frailty.

  Not always is a woman feigning love

  When she sighs and clings to a man in close embrace

  And body pressed to body, lips to lips,

  Moistens his mouth with hers to prolong his kisses.

  Often she does it from the heart, and seeking

  1195

  Shared mutual delights she rouses him

  To run with her through all the lists of love.

  And in no wise could birds and beasts and sheep

  And mares and cattle to the male submit

  But that their nature burns for it, and with joy

  Receives the seed from the covering animal.

  1200

  Do you not see how pairs whom mutual pleasure

  Has bound are tortured in their common chains?

  Dogs at a crossroads often you may see,

  Wanting to part, pull hard with all their might

  In different directions, while all the time

  By the strong couplings of Venus they are held fast.

  This they would never do unless both felt

  1205

  Pleasures which lead them astray and hold them bound.

  Wherefore again and again, I say, the pleasure is mutual.

  And in the mingling of seed it sometimes happens