Delphi Complete Works of Lucretius

by Titus Lucretius Carus

  For the huge effort of their going-forth;

  Next, when the cloud no longer can retain

  The increment of their fierce impetus,

  Their force is pressed out, and therefore flies

  With impetus so wondrous, like to shots

  Hurled from the powerful Roman catapults.

  Note, too, this force consists of elements

  Both small and smooth, nor is there aught that can

  With ease resist such nature. For it darts

  Between and enters through the pores of things;

  And so it never falters in delay

  Despite innumerable collisions, but

  Flies shooting onward with a swift elan.

  Next, since by nature always every weight

  Bears downward, doubled is the swiftness then

  And that elan is still more wild and dread,

  When, verily, to weight are added blows,

  So that more madly and more fiercely then

  The thunderbolt shakes into shivers all

  That blocks its path, following on its way.

  Then, too, because it comes along, along

  With one continuing elan, it must

  Take on velocity anew, anew,

  Which still increases as it goes, and ever

  Augments the bolt’s vast powers and to the blow

  Gives larger vigour; for it forces all,

  All of the thunder’s seeds of fire, to sweep

  In a straight line unto one place, as ‘twere, —

  Casting them one by other, as they roll,

  Into that onward course. Again, perchance,

  In coming along, it pulls from out the air

  Some certain bodies, which by their own blows

  Enkindle its velocity. And, lo,

  It comes through objects leaving them unharmed,

  It goes through many things and leaves them whole,

  Because the liquid fire flieth along

  Athrough their pores. And much it does transfix,

  When these primordial atoms of the bolt

  Have fallen upon the atoms of these things

  Precisely where the intertwined atoms

  Are held together. And, further, easily

  Brass it unbinds and quickly fuseth gold,

  Because its force is so minutely made

  Of tiny parts and elements so smooth

  That easily they wind their way within,

  And, when once in, quickly unbind all knots

  And loosen all the bonds of union there.

  And most in autumn is shaken the house of heaven,

  The house so studded with the glittering stars,

  And the whole earth around — most too in spring

  When flowery times unfold themselves: for, lo,

  In the cold season is there lack of fire,

  And winds are scanty in the hot, and clouds

  Have not so dense a bulk. But when, indeed,

  The seasons of heaven are betwixt these twain,

  The divers causes of the thunderbolt

  Then all concur; for then both cold and heat

  Are mixed in the cross-seas of the year,

  So that a discord rises among things

  And air in vast tumultuosity

  Billows, infuriate with the fires and winds —

  Of which the both are needed by the cloud

  For fabrication of the thunderbolt.

  For the first part of heat and last of cold

  Is the time of spring; wherefore must things unlike

  Do battle one with other, and, when mixed,

  Tumultuously rage. And when rolls round

  The latest heat mixed with the earliest chill —

  The time which bears the name of autumn — then

  Likewise fierce cold-spells wrestle with fierce heats.

  On this account these seasons of the year

  Are nominated “cross-seas.” — And no marvel

  If in those times the thunderbolts prevail

  And storms are roused turbulent in heaven,

  Since then both sides in dubious warfare rage

  Tumultuously, the one with flames, the other

  With winds and with waters mixed with winds.

  This, this it is, O Memmius, to see through

  The very nature of fire-fraught thunderbolt;

  O this it is to mark by what blind force

  It maketh each effect, and not, O not

  To unwind Etrurian scrolls oracular,

  Inquiring tokens of occult will of gods,

  Even as to whence the flying flame hath come,

  Or to which half of heaven it turns, or how

  Through walled places it hath wound its way,

  Or, after proving its dominion there,

  How it hath speeded forth from thence amain,

  Or what the thunderstroke portends of ill

  From out high heaven. But if Jupiter

  And other gods shake those refulgent vaults

  With dread reverberations and hurl fire

  Whither it pleases each, why smite they not

  Mortals of reckless and revolting crimes,

  That such may pant from a transpierced breast

  Forth flames of the red levin — unto men

  A drastic lesson? — why is rather he —

  O he self-conscious of no foul offence —

  Involved in flames, though innocent, and clasped

  Up-caught in skiey whirlwind and in fire?

  Nay, why, then, aim they at eternal wastes,

  And spend themselves in vain? — perchance, even so

  To exercise their arms and strengthen shoulders?

  Why suffer they the Father’s javelin

  To be so blunted on the earth? And why

  Doth he himself allow it, nor spare the same

  Even for his enemies? O why most oft

  Aims he at lofty places? Why behold we

  Marks of his lightnings most on mountain tops?

  Then for what reason shoots he at the sea? —

  What sacrilege have waves and bulk of brine

  And floating fields of foam been guilty of?

  Besides, if ’tis his will that we beware

  Against the lightning-stroke, why feareth he

  To grant us power for to behold the shot?

  And, contrariwise, if wills he to o’erwhelm us,

  Quite off our guard, with fire, why thunders he

  Off in yon quarter, so that we may shun?

  Why rouseth he beforehand darkling air

  And the far din and rumblings? And O how

  Canst thou believe he shoots at one same time

  Into diverse directions? Or darest thou

  Contend that never hath it come to pass

  That divers strokes have happened at one time?

  But oft and often hath it come to pass,

  And often still it must, that, even as showers

  And rains o’er many regions fall, so too

  Dart many thunderbolts at one same time.

  Again, why never hurtles Jupiter

  A bolt upon the lands nor pours abroad

  Clap upon clap, when skies are cloudless all?

  Or, say, doth he, so soon as ever the clouds

  Have come thereunder, then into the same

  Descend in person, that from thence he may

  Near-by decide upon the stroke of shaft?

  And, lastly, why, with devastating bolt

  Shakes he asunder holy shrines of gods

  And his own thrones of splendour, and to-breaks

  The well-wrought idols of divinities,

  And robs of glory his own images

  By wound of violence?

  But to return apace,

  Easy it is from these same facts to know

  In just what wise those things (which from their sort

  The Greeks have named “bellows”) do come down,

  Discharged from on high, upon the seas.r />
  For it haps that sometimes from the sky descends

  Upon the seas a column, as if pushed,

  Round which the surges seethe, tremendously

  Aroused by puffing gusts; and whatso’er

  Of ships are caught within that tumult then

  Come into extreme peril, dashed along.

  This haps when sometimes wind’s aroused force

  Can’t burst the cloud it tries to, but down-weighs

  That cloud, until ’tis like a column from sky

  Upon the seas pushed downward — gradually,

  As if a Somewhat from on high were shoved

  By fist and nether thrust of arm, and lengthened

  Far to the waves. And when the force of wind

  Hath rived this cloud, from out the cloud it rushes

  Down on the seas, and starts among the waves

  A wondrous seething, for the eddying whirl

  Descends and downward draws along with it

  That cloud of ductile body. And soon as ever

  ‘Thas shoved unto the levels of the main

  That laden cloud, the whirl suddenly then

  Plunges its whole self into the waters there

  And rouses all the sea with monstrous roar,

  Constraining it to seethe. It happens too

  That very vortex of the wind involves

  Itself in clouds, scraping from out the air

  The seeds of cloud, and counterfeits, as ‘twere,

  The “bellows” pushed from heaven. And when this shape

  Hath dropped upon the lands and burst apart,

  It belches forth immeasurable might

  Of whirlwind and of blast. Yet since ’tis formed

  At most but rarely, and on land the hills

  Must block its way, ’tis seen more oft out there

  On the broad prospect of the level main

  Along the free horizons.

  Into being

  The clouds condense, when in this upper space

  Of the high heaven have gathered suddenly,

  As round they flew, unnumbered particles —

  World’s rougher ones, which can, though interlinked

  With scanty couplings, yet be fastened firm,

  The one on other caught. These particles

  First cause small clouds to form; and, thereupon,

  These catch the one on other and swarm in a flock

  And grow by their conjoining, and by winds

  Are borne along, along, until collects

  The tempest fury. Happens, too, the nearer

  The mountain summits neighbour to the sky,

  The more unceasingly their far crags smoke

  With the thick darkness of swart cloud, because

  When first the mists do form, ere ever the eyes

  Can there behold them (tenuous as they be),

  The carrier-winds will drive them up and on

  Unto the topmost summits of the mountain;

  And then at last it happens, when they be

  In vaster throng upgathered, that they can

  By this very condensation lie revealed,

  And that at same time they are seen to surge

  From very vertex of the mountain up

  Into far ether. For very fact and feeling,

  As we up-climb high mountains, proveth clear

  That windy are those upward regions free.

  Besides, the clothes hung-out along the shore,

  When in they take the clinging moisture, prove

  That nature lifts from over all the sea

  Unnumbered particles. Whereby the more

  ’Tis manifest that many particles

  Even from the salt upheavings of the main

  Can rise together to augment the bulk

  Of massed clouds. For moistures in these twain

  Are near akin. Besides, from out all rivers,

  As well as from the land itself, we see

  Up-rising mists and steam, which like a breath

  Are forced out from them and borne aloft,

  To curtain heaven with their murk, and make,

  By slow foregathering, the skiey clouds.

  For, in addition, lo, the heat on high

  Of constellated ether burdens down

  Upon them, and by sort of condensation

  Weaveth beneath the azure firmament

  The reek of darkling cloud. It happens, too,

  That hither to the skies from the Beyond

  Do come those particles which make the clouds

  And flying thunderheads. For I have taught

  That this their number is innumerable

  And infinite the sum of the Abyss,

  And I have shown with what stupendous speed

  Those bodies fly and how they’re wont to pass

  Amain through incommunicable space.

  Therefore, ’tis not exceeding strange, if oft

  In little time tempest and darkness cover

  With bulking thunderheads hanging on high

  The oceans and the lands, since everywhere

  Through all the narrow tubes of yonder ether,

  Yea, so to speak, through all the breathing-holes

  Of the great upper-world encompassing,

  There be for the primordial elements

  Exits and entrances.

  Now come, and how

  The rainy moisture thickens into being

  In the lofty clouds, and how upon the lands

  ’Tis then discharged in down-pour of large showers,

  I will unfold. And first triumphantly

  Will I persuade thee that up-rise together,

  With clouds themselves, full many seeds of water

  From out all things, and that they both increase —

  Both clouds and water which is in the clouds —

  In like proportion, as our frames increase

  In like proportion with our blood, as well

  As sweat or any moisture in our members.

  Besides, the clouds take in from time to time

  Much moisture risen from the broad marine, —

  Whilst the winds bear them o’er the mighty sea,

  Like hanging fleeces of white wool. Thuswise,

  Even from all rivers is there lifted up

  Moisture into the clouds. And when therein

  The seeds of water so many in many ways

  Have come together, augmented from all sides,

  The close-jammed clouds then struggle to discharge

  Their rain-storms for a two-fold reason: lo,

  The wind’s force crowds them, and the very excess

  Of storm-clouds (massed in a vaster throng)

  Giveth an urge and pressure from above

  And makes the rains out-pour. Besides when, too,

  The clouds are winnowed by the winds, or scattered

  Smitten on top by heat of sun, they send

  Their rainy moisture, and distil their drops,

  Even as the wax, by fiery warmth on top,

  Wasteth and liquefies abundantly.

  But comes the violence of the bigger rains

  When violently the clouds are weighted down

  Both by their cumulated mass and by

  The onset of the wind. And rains are wont

  To endure awhile and to abide for long,

  When many seeds of waters are aroused,

  And clouds on clouds and racks on racks outstream

  In piled layers and are borne along

  From every quarter, and when all the earth

  Smoking exhales her moisture. At such a time

  When sun with beams amid the tempest-murk

  Hath shone against the showers of black rains,

  Then in the swart clouds there emerges bright

  The radiance of the bow.

  And as to things

  Not mentioned here which of themselves do grow

  Or of themselves are gendered, and all things

  Which in the clo
uds condense to being — all,

  Snow and the winds, hail and the hoar-frosts chill,

  And freezing, mighty force — of lakes and pools

  The mighty hardener, and mighty check

  Which in the winter curbeth everywhere

  The rivers as they go— ’tis easy still,

  Soon to discover and with mind to see

  How they all happen, whereby gendered,

  When once thou well hast understood just what

  Functions have been vouchsafed from of old

  Unto the procreant atoms of the world.

  Now come, and what the law of earthquakes is

  Hearken, and first of all take care to know

  That the under-earth, like to the earth around us,

  Is full of windy caverns all about;

  And many a pool and many a grim abyss

  She bears within her bosom, ay, and cliffs

  And jagged scarps; and many a river, hid

  Beneath her chine, rolls rapidly along

  Its billows and plunging boulders. For clear fact

  Requires that earth must be in every part

  Alike in constitution. Therefore, earth,

  With these things underneath affixed and set,

  Trembleth above, jarred by big down-tumblings,

  When time hath undermined the huge caves,

  The subterranean. Yea, whole mountains fall,

  And instantly from spot of that big jar

  There quiver the tremors far and wide abroad.

  And with good reason: since houses on the street

  Begin to quake throughout, when jarred by a cart

  Of no large weight; and, too, the furniture

  Within the house up-bounds, when a paving-block

  Gives either iron rim of the wheels a jolt.

  It happens, too, when some prodigious bulk

  Of age-worn soil is rolled from mountain slopes

  Into tremendous pools of water dark,

  That the reeling land itself is rocked about

  By the water’s undulations; as a basin

  Sometimes won’t come to rest until the fluid

  Within it ceases to be rocked about

  In random undulations.

  And besides,

  When subterranean winds, up-gathered there

  In the hollow deeps, bulk forward from one spot,

  And press with the big urge of mighty powers

  Against the lofty grottos, then the earth

  Bulks to that quarter whither push amain

  The headlong winds. Then all the builded houses

  Above ground — and the more, the higher up-reared

  Unto the sky — lean ominously, careening

  Into the same direction; and the beams,

  Wrenched forward, over-hang, ready to go.

  Yet dread men to believe that there awaits