BOOK I, lines 1-328

Thou mother of the Aenead race, delight Of men and deities, bountiful Venus, thou Who under the sky’s gliding constellations Fillest ship-carrying ocean with thy presence And the corn-bearing lands, since through thy power Each kind of living creature is conceived Then riseth and beholdeth the sun’s light: Before thee and thine advent the winds and clouds Of heaven take flight, O goddess: daedal earth Puts forth sweet-scented flowers beneath thy feet: Beholding thee the smooth deep laughs, the sky Grows calm and shines with wide-outspreading light. For soon as the day’s vernal countenance Has been revealed, and fresh from wintry bonds Blows the birth-giving breeze of the West wind, First do the birds of air give sign of thee, Goddess, and thine approach, as through their hearts Thine influence smites. Next the wild herds of beasts Bound over the rich pastures and swim through The rapid streams, as captured by thy charm Each one with eager longing follows thee Whithersoever thou wouldst lure them on. And thus through seas, mountains and rushing rivers, Through the birds’ leafy homes and the green plains, Striking bland love into the hearts of all, Thou art the cause that following his lust Each should renew his race after his kind. Therefore since thou alone art nature’s mistress, And since without thine aid naught can rise forth Into the glorious regions of the light, Nor aught grow to be gladsome and delectable, Thee would I win to help me while I write These verses, wherein I labour to describe The nature of things in honour of my friend This scion of the Memmian house, whom thou Hast willed to be found peerless all his days In every grace. Therefore the more, great deity, Grant to my words eternal loveliness: Cause meanwhile that the savage works of warfare Over all seas and lands sink hushed to rest. For thou alone hast power to bless mankind With tranquil peace; since of war’s savage works Mavors mighty in battle hath control, Who oft flings himself back upon thy lap, Quite vanquished by love’s never-healing wound; And so with upturned face and shapely neck Thrown backward, feeds with love his hungry looks, Gazing on thee, goddess, while thus he lies Supine, and on thy lips his spirit hangs. O’er him thus couched upon thy holy body Do thou bend down to enfold him, and from thy lips Pour tender speech, petitioning calm peace, O glorious divinity, for thy Romans. For nor can we in our country’s hour of trouble Toil with a mind untroubled at our task, Nor yet may the famed child of Memmius Be spared from public service in such times.

For the rest,[A] leisured ears and a keen mind Withdrawn from cares, lend to true reasoning, Lest my gifts, which with loving diligence I set out for you, ere they be understood You should reject disdainfully. For now About the most high theory of the heavens And of the deities, I will undertake To tell you in my discourse, and will reveal The first beginnings of existing things, Out of which nature gives birth and increase And nourishment to all things; into which Nature likewise, when they have been destroyed, Resolves them back in turn. These we are wont, In setting forth our argument, to call Matter, or else begetting particles, Or to name them the seeds of things: again As primal atoms we shall speak of them, Because from them first everything is formed.

When prostrate upon earth lay human life Visibly trampled down and foully crushed Beneath religion’s cruelty, who meanwhile Forth from the regions of the heavens above Showed forth her face, lowering down on men With horrible aspect, first did a man of Greece[B] Dare to lift up his mortal eyes against her; The first was he to stand up and defy her. Him neither stories of the gods, nor lightnings, Nor heaven with muttering menaces could quell, But all the more did they arouse his soul’s Keen valour, till he longed to be the first To break through the fast-bolted doors of nature. Therefore his fervent energy of mind Prevailed, and he passed onward, voyaging far Beyond the flaming ramparts of the world, Ranging in mind and spirit far and wide Throughout the unmeasured universe; and thence A conqueror he returns to us, bringing back Knowledge both of what can and what cannot Rise into being, teaching us in fine Upon what principle each thing has its powers Limited, and its deep-set boundary stone. Therefore now has religion been cast down Beneath men’s feet, and trampled on in turn: Ourselves heaven-high his victory exalts.

Herein this fear assails me, lest perchance You should suppose I would initiate you Into a school of reasoning unholy, And set your feet upon a path of sin: Whereas in truth often has this religion Given birth to sinful and unholy deeds. So once at Aulis did those chosen chiefs Of Hellas, those most eminent among heros, Foully defile the Trivian Virgin’s altar With Iphianassa’s lifeblood. For so soon As the fillet wreathed around her maiden locks Streamed down in equal lengths from either cheek, And soon as she was aware of her father standing Sorrowful by the altar, and at his side The priestly ministers hiding the knife, And the folk shedding tears at sight of her, Speechless in terror, dropping on her knees To the earth she sank down. Nor in that hour Of anguish might it avail her that she first Had given the name of father to the king; For by the hands of men lifted on high Shuddering to the altar she was borne, Not that, when the due ceremonial rites Had been accomplished, she might be escorted By the clear-sounding hymenaeal song, But that a stainless maiden foully stained, In the very season of marriage she might fall A sorrowful victim by a father’s stroke, That so there might be granted to the fleet A happy and hallowed sailing. Such the crimes Whereto religion has had power to prompt.

Yet there may come a time when you yourself, Surrendering to the terror-breathing tales Of seers and bards, will seek to abandon us. Ay verily, how many dreams even now May they be forging for you, which might well Overturn your philosophy of life, And trouble all your happiness with fear! And with good cause: for if men could perceive That there was a fixed limit to their sorrows, By some means they would find strength to withstand The hallowed lies and threatenings of these seers. But as it is, men have no means, no power To make a stand, since everlasting seem The penalties that they must fear in death. For none knows what is the nature of the soul, Whether ’tis born, or on the contrary Enters into our bodies at their birth: Whether, when torn from us by death, it perishes Together with us, or thereafter goes To visit Orcus’ glooms and the vast chasms; Or penetrates by ordinance divine Into brutes in man’s stead, as sang our own Ennius, who first from pleasant Helicon Brought down a garland of unfading leaf, Destined among Italian tribes of men To win bright glory. And yet in spite of this Ennius sets forth in immortal verse That none the less there does exist a realm Of Acheron, though neither do our souls Nor bodies penetrate thither, but a kind Of phantom images, pale in wondrous wise: And thence it was, so he relates, that once The ghost of ever-living Homer rose Before him, shedding salt tears, and began To unfold in discourse the nature of things. Therefore not only must we grasp the truth Concerning things on high, what principle Controls the courses of the sun and moon, And by what force all that takes place on earth Is governed, but above all by keen thought We must investigate whereof consists The soul and the mind’s nature, and what it is That comes before us when we wake, if then We are preyed on by disease, or when we lie Buried in sleep, and terrifies our minds, So that we seem face to face to behold And hear those speaking to us who are dead, Whose bones the earth now holds in its embrace.

Nor am I unaware how hard my task In Latin verses to set clearly forth The obscure truths discovered by the Greeks, Chiefly because so much will need new terms To deal with it, owing to our poverty Of language, and the novelty of the themes. Nevertheless your worth and the delight Of your sweet friendship, which I hope to win, Prompt me to bear the burden of any toil, And lead me on to watch the calm nights through, Seeking by means of what words and what measures I may attain my end, and shed so clear A light upon your spirit, that thereby Your gaze may search the depths of hidden things.

This terror, then, and darkness of the mind Must needs be scattered not by the sun’s beams And day’s bright arrows, but by contemplation Of nature’s aspect and her inward law. And this first principle of her design Shall be our starting point: nothing is ever By divine will begotten out of nothing. In truth the reason fear so dominates All mortals, is that they behold on earth And in the sky many things happening, Yet of these operations by no means Can they perceive the causes, and so fancy That they must come to pass by power divine. Therefore when we have understood that nothing Can be born out of nothing, we shall then Win juster knowledge of the truth we seek, Both from what elements each thing can be formed, And in what way all things can come to pass Without the intervention of the gods.

For if things came from nothing, any kind Might be born out of anything; naught then Would require seed. Thus men might rise from ocean The scaly race out of the land, while birds Might suddenly be hatched forth from the sky: Cattle and other herds and every kind Of wild beast, bred by no fixed law of birth, Would roam o’er tilth and wilderness alike. No fruit would remain constant to its tree, But would change; every tree would bear all kinds. For if there were not for each thing its own Begetting particles, how could they have A fixed unvarying mother? But in fact Since all are formed from fixed seeds, each is born And issues into the borders of the light From that alone wherein resides its substance And its first bodies. And for this cause all things Cannot be generated out of all, Since in each dwells its own particular power. Again why do we see in spring the rose, Corn in the summer’s heat, vines bursting forth When autumn summons them, if not because When in their own time the fixed seeds of things Have flowed together, there is then revealed Whatever has been born, while the due seasons Are present, and the quickened earth brings forth Safely into the borders of the light Its tender nurslings? But if they were formed From nothing, they would suddenly spring up At unfixed periods and hostile times, Since there would then be no fixed particles To be kept from a begetting union By the unpropitious season of the year. Nor yet after the meeting of the seed Would lapse of time be needed for their increase, If they could grow from nothing. Suddenly Small babes would become youths; trees would arise Shooting up in a moment from the ground. But nothing of the kind, ’tis plain, takes place, Seeing that all things grow little by little, As befits, from determined seed, and growing Preserve their kind: so that you may perceive That all things become greater and are nourished Out of their own material. Furthermore Without fixed annual seasons for the rain Earth could not put her gladdening produce forth, Nor yet, if kept apart from nourishment, Could living creatures propagate their kind Or sustain life: so that with greater reason You may think many things have many atoms In common, as we see that different words Have common letters, than that anything Can come to being without first elements. Again, why could not nature have produced Men of such mighty bulk, that they could wade Through the deep places of the sea, or rend Huge mountains with their hands, or in one life Overpass many living generations, If not because there has been set apart A changeless substance for begetting things, And what can thence arise is predetermined? Therefore we must confess this truth, that nothing Can come from nothing, since seed is required For each thing, out of which it may be born And lift itself into the air’s soft breezes. Lastly, since it is evident that tilled lands Excel the untilled, and yield to labouring hands A richer harvest, we may thence infer That in the earth there must be primal atoms, And these, labouring its soil, we stimulate To rise, when with the coulter we turn up The fertile clods. But if none such existed, We should see all things without toil of ours Spring forth far richer of their own accord.

Furthermore nature dissolves each form back Into its own first particles, nor ever Annihilates things. For if aught could be mortal In all its parts, then it might from our eyes Be snatched away to perish suddenly. For there would be no need of any force To cause disruption of its parts, and loosen Their fastenings. But in fact each is composed Of everlasting seeds; so till some force Arrives that with a blow can shatter things To pieces, or can penetrate within Their empty spaces, and so break them up, Nature will not permit the dissolution Of anything to be seen. Again, if time Utterly destroys, consuming all the substance Of whatsoever it removes from sight Through lapse of ages, out of what does Venus Bring back into the light of life the race Of living creatures each after its kind? Or, once brought back, whence does the daedal earth Feed and increase them, giving nourishment To each after its kind? Whence do its own Fountains and far-drawn rivers from without Keep full the sea? Whence does the ether feed The stars? For infinite time and lapse of days Surely must long since have devoured all things Formed of a body that must die. But if Throughout that period of time long past Those atoms have existed out of which This universe of things has been composed And recomposed, ’tis plain they are possessed Of an immortal nature: none of them Therefore can turn to nothing. Then again The same force and the same cause would destroy All things without distinction, were it not That an eternal substance held them fast, A substance interwoven part with part By bonds more or less close. For without doubt A mere touch would be cause enough for death, Seeing that any least amount of force Must needs dissolve the texture of such things, No one of which had an eternal body. But in fact since the mutual fastenings Between first elements are dissimilar, And their substance eternal, things endure With body uninjured, till some force arrives Strong enough to dissolve the texture of each. Therefore no single thing ever returns To nothing, but at their disruption all Pass back into the elements of matter. Lastly the rain showers perish, when the sky father Has flung them into the lap of mother earth. But then bright crops spring up luxuriantly; Boughs on the trees are green; the trees themselves Grow, and with fruits are laden: from this source Moreover both our own race and the race Of beasts are nourished; for this cause we see Glad towns teeming with children, leafy woods With young birds’ voices singing on all sides; For this cause cattle about the fertile meadows Wearied with fatness lay their bodies down, And from their swollen udders oozing falls The white milk stream; for this cause a new brood Bounds on weak limbs over the soft grass, frisking And gamboling, their young hearts with pure milk thrilled. None therefore of those things that seem to perish Utterly perishes, since nature forms One thing out of another, and permits Nothing to be begotten, unless first She has been recruited by another’s death.

Now listen: since I have proved to you that things Cannot be formed from nothing, lest you yet Should tend in any way to doubt my words, Because the primal particles of things Can never be distinguished by the eyes, I will proceed to give you instances Of bodies which yourself you must admit Are real things, yet cannot be perceived. First the wind’s wakened force scourges the sea, Whelming huge ships and scattering the clouds; And sometimes with impetuous hurricane Scouring the plains, it strews them with great trees, And ravages with forest-rending blasts The mountain-tops: with such rude savagery Does the wind howl and bluster and wreak its rage With menacing uproar. Therefore past all doubt Winds must be formed of unseen particles That sweep the seas, the lands, the clouds of heaven, Ravaging and dishevelling them all With fitful hurricane gusts. Onward they stream Multiplying destruction, just as when The soft nature of water suddenly Swoops forward in one overwhelming flood Swelled with abundant rains by a mighty spate Of water rushing down from the high hills, Hurtling together broken forest boughs And entire trees: nor can the sturdy bridges Sustain the oncoming water’s sudden force: In such wise turbulent with much rain the river Flings its whole mighty strength against the piles. With a loud crashing roar it then deals havoc, And rolls the huge stones on beneath its waves, Sweeping before it all that stems its flood. In this way then wind-blasts must likewise move; And when like a strong stream they have hurled themselves Towards any quarter, they thrust things along And with repeated onslaughts overwhelm them, Often in writhing eddy seizing them To bear them away in swiftly circling swirl. Therefore beyond all doubt winds are composed Of unseen atoms, since in their works and ways We find that they resemble mighty rivers Which are of visible substance. Then again We can perceive the various scents of things, Yet never see them coming to our nostrils: Heat too we see not, nor can we observe Cold with our eyes, nor ever behold words: Yet must all these be of a bodily nature, Since they are able to act upon our senses. For naught can touch or be touched except body. Clothes also, hung up on a shore where waves Are breaking, become moist, and then grow dry If spread out in the sun. Yet in what way The water’s moisture has soaked into them, Has not been seen, nor again in what way The heat has driven it out. The moisture therefore Is dispersed into tiny particles, Which our eyes have no power to see at all. Furthermore after many revolutions Of the sun’s year, a finger-ring is thinned On the under side by being worn: the fall Of dripping eave-drops hollows out a stone: The bent ploughshare of iron insensibly Grows smaller in the fields; and we behold The paving stones of roads worn down at length By the footsteps of the people. Then again The brazen statues at the city gates Show right hands wearing thinner by the touch Of those who greet them ever as they pass by. Thus we perceive that all such things grow less Because they have been worn down: and yet what atoms Are leaving them each moment, that the jealous Nature of vision has quite shut us out From seeing. Finally whatever time And nature gradually add to things, Obliging them to grow in due proportion, No effort of our eyesight can behold. So too whenever things grow old by age Or through corruption, and wherever rocks That overhang the sea are gnawed away By the corroding brine, you cannot discern What they are losing at any single moment. Thus nature operates by unseen atoms.