BOOK IV

                      PROEM

  I wander afield, thriving in sturdy thought,

  Through unpathed haunts of the Pierides,

  Trodden by step of none before. I joy

  To come on undefiled fountains there,

  To drain them deep; I joy to pluck new flowers,

  To seek for this my head a signal crown

  From regions where the Muses never yet

  Have garlanded the temples of a man:

  First, since I teach concerning mighty things,

  And go right on to loose from round the mind

  The tightened coils of dread Religion;

  Next, since, concerning themes so dark, I frame

  Song so pellucid, touching all throughout

  Even with the Muses' charm - which, as 'twould seem,

  Is not without a reasonable ground:

  For as physicians, when they seek to give

  Young boys the nauseous wormwood, first do touch

  The brim around the cup with the sweet juice

  And yellow of the honey, in order that

  The thoughtless age of boyhood be cajoled

  As far as the lips, and meanwhile swallow down

  The wormwood's bitter draught, and, though befooled,

  Be yet not merely duped, but rather thus

  Grow strong again with recreated health:

  So now I too (since this my doctrine seems

  In general somewhat woeful unto those

  Who've had it not in hand, and since the crowd

  Starts back from it in horror) have desired

  To expound our doctrine unto thee in song

  Soft-speaking and Pierian, and, as 'twere,

  To touch it with sweet honey of the Muse -

  If by such method haply I might hold

  The mind of thee upon these lines of ours,

  Till thou dost learn the nature of all things

  And understandest their utility.

              EXISTENCE AND CHARACTER OF

                    THE IMAGES

    But since I've taught already of what sort

  The seeds of all things are, and how distinct

  In divers forms they flit of own accord,

  Stirred with a motion everlasting on,

  And in what mode things be from them create,

  And since I've taught what the mind's nature is,

  And of what things 'tis with the body knit

  And thrives in strength, and by what mode uptorn

  That mind returns to its primordials,

  Now will I undertake an argument -

  One for these matters of supreme concern -

  That there exist those somewhats which we call

  The images of things: these, like to films

  Scaled off the utmost outside of the things,

  Flit hither and thither through the atmosphere,

  And the same terrify our intellects,

  Coming upon us waking or in sleep,

  When oft we peer at wonderful strange shapes

  And images of people lorn of light,

  Which oft have horribly roused us when we lay

  In slumber - that haply nevermore may we

  Suppose that souls get loose from Acheron,

  Or shades go floating in among the living,

  Or aught of us is left behind at death,

  When body and mind, destroyed together, each

  Back to its own primordials goes away.

    And thus I say that effigies of things,

  And tenuous shapes from off the things are sent,

  From off the utmost outside of the things,

  Which are like films or may be named a rind,

  Because the image bears like look and form

  With whatso body has shed it fluttering forth -

  A fact thou mayst, however dull thy wits,

  Well learn from this: mainly, because we see

  Even 'mongst visible objects many be

  That send forth bodies, loosely some diffused -

  Like smoke from oaken logs and heat from fires -

  And some more interwoven and condensed -

  As when the locusts in the summertime

  Put off their glossy tunics, or when calves

  At birth drop membranes from their body's surface,

  Or when, again, the slippery serpent doffs

  Its vestments 'mongst the thorns - for oft we see

  The breres augmented with their flying spoils:

  Since such takes place, 'tis likewise certain too

  That tenuous images from things are sent,

  From off the utmost outside of the things.

  For why those kinds should drop and part from things,

  Rather than others tenuous and thin,

  No power has man to open mouth to tell;

  Especially, since on outsides of things

  Are bodies many and minute which could,

  In the same order which they had before,

  And with the figure of their form preserved,

  Be thrown abroad, and much more swiftly too,

  Being less subject to impediments,

  As few in number and placed along the front.

  For truly many things we see discharge

  Their stuff at large, not only from their cores

  Deep-set within, as we have said above,

  But from their surfaces at times no less -

  Their very colours too. And commonly

  The awnings, saffron, red and dusky blue,

  Stretched overhead in mighty theatres,

  Upon their poles and cross-beams fluttering,

  Have such an action quite; for there they dye

  And make to undulate with their every hue

  The circled throng below, and all the stage,

  And rich attire in the patrician seats.

  And ever the more the theatre's dark walls

  Around them shut, the more all things within

  Laugh in the bright suffusion of strange glints,

  The daylight being withdrawn. And therefore, since

  The canvas hangings thus discharge their dye

  From off their surface, things in general must

  Likewise their tenuous effigies discharge,

  Because in either case they are off-thrown

  From off the surface. So there are indeed

  Such certain prints and vestiges of forms

  Which flit around, of subtlest texture made,

  Invisible, when separate, each and one.

  Again, all odour, smoke, and heat, and such

  Streams out of things diffusedly, because,

  Whilst coming from the deeps of body forth

  And rising out, along their bending path

  They're torn asunder, nor have gateways straight

  Wherethrough to mass themselves and struggle abroad.

  But contrariwise, when such a tenuous film

  Of outside colour is thrown off, there's naught

  Can rend it, since 'tis placed along the front

  Ready to hand. Lastly those images

  Which to our eyes in mirrors do appear,

  In water, or in any shining surface,

  Must be, since furnished with like look of things,

  Fashioned from images of things sent out.

  There are, then, tenuous effigies of forms,

  Like unto them, which no one can divine

  When taken singly, which do yet give back,

  When by continued and recurrent discharge

  Expelled, a picture from the mirrors' plane.

  Nor otherwise, it seems, can they be kept

  So well conserved that thus be given back

  Figures so like each object.

                            Now then, learn

  How tenuous is the nature of an image.

  And in the first place, since primordials be

  So far beneath our senses, and much less

  E'en than those objects which begin to grow

  Too small for eyes to note, learn now in few

  How nice are the beginnings of all things -

  That this, too, I may yet confirm in proof:

  First, living creatures are sometimes so small

  That even their third part can nowise be seen;

  Judge, then, the size of any inward organ -

  What of their sphered heart, their eyes, their limbs,

  The skeleton? - How tiny thus they are!

  And what besides of those first particles

  Whence soul and mind must fashioned be? - Seest not

  How nice and how minute? Besides, whatever

  Exhales from out its body a sharp smell -

  The nauseous absinth, or the panacea,

  Strong southernwood, or bitter centaury -

  If never so lightly with thy [fingers] twain

  Perchance [thou touch] a one of them

  Then why not rather know that images

  Flit hither and thither, many, in many modes,

  Bodiless and invisible?

                                     But lest

  Haply thou holdest that those images

  Which come from objects are the sole that flit,

  Others indeed there be of own accord

  Begot, self-formed in earth's aery skies,

  Which, moulded to innumerable shapes,

  Are borne aloft, and, fluid as they are,

  Cease not to change appearance and to turn

  Into new outlines of all sorts of forms;

  As we behold the clouds grow thick on high

  And smirch the serene vision of the world,

  Stroking the air with motions. For oft are seen

  The giants' faces flying far along

  And trailing a spread of shadow; and at times

  The mighty mountains and mountain-sundered rocks

  Going before and crossing on the sun,

  Whereafter a monstrous beast dragging amain

  And leading in the other thunderheads.

  Now [hear] how easy and how swift they be

  Engendered, and perpetually flow off

  From things and gliding pass away....

  For ever every outside streams away

  From off all objects, since discharge they may;

  And when this outside reaches other things,

  As chiefly glass, it passes through; but where

  It reaches the rough rocks or stuff of wood,

  There 'tis so rent that it cannot give back

  An image. But when gleaming objects dense,

  As chiefly mirrors, have been set before it,

  Nothing of this sort happens. For it can't

  Go, as through glass, nor yet be rent - its safety,

  By virtue of that smoothness, being sure.

  'Tis therefore that from them the images

  Stream back to us; and howso suddenly

  Thou place, at any instant, anything

  Before a mirror, there an image shows;

  Proving that ever from a body's surface

  Flow off thin textures and thin shapes of things.

  Thus many images in little time

  Are gendered; so their origin is named

  Rightly a speedy. And even as the sun

  Must send below, in little time, to earth

  So many beams to keep all things so full

  Of light incessant; thus, on grounds the same,

  From things there must be borne, in many modes,

  To every quarter round, upon the moment,

  The many images of things; because

  Unto whatever face of things we turn

  The mirror, things of form and hue the same

  Respond. Besides, though but a moment since

  Serenest was the weather of the sky,

  So fiercely sudden is it foully thick

  That ye might think that round about all murk

  Had parted forth from Acheron and filled

  The mighty vaults of sky - so grievously,

  As gathers thus the storm-clouds' gruesome night,

  Do faces of black horror hang on high -

  Of which how small a part an image is

  There's none to tell or reckon out in words.

    Now come; with what swift motion they are borne,

  These images, and what the speed assigned

  To them across the breezes swimming on -

  So that o'er lengths of space a little hour

  Alone is wasted, toward whatever region

  Each with its divers impulse tends - I'll tell

  In verses sweeter than they many are;

  Even as the swan's slight note is better far

  Than that dispersed clamour of the cranes

  Among the southwind's aery clouds. And first,

  One oft may see that objects which are light

  And made of tiny bodies are the swift;

  In which class is the sun's light and his heat,

  Since made from small primordial elements

  Which, as it were, are forward knocked along

  And through the interspaces of the air

  To pass delay not, urged by blows behind;

  For light by light is instantly supplied

  And gleam by following gleam is spurred and driven.

  Thus likewise must the images have power

  Through unimaginable space to speed

  Within a point of time, - first, since a cause

  Exceeding small there is, which at their back

  Far forward drives them and propels, where, too,

  They're carried with such winged lightness on;

  And, secondly, since furnished, when sent off,

  With texture of such rareness that they can

  Through objects whatsoever penetrate

  And ooze, as 'twere, through intervening air.

  Besides, if those fine particles of things

  Which from so deep within are sent abroad,

  As light and heat of sun, are seen to glide

  And spread themselves through all the space of heaven

  Upon one instant of the day, and fly

  O'er sea and lands and flood the heaven, what then

  Of those which on the outside stand prepared,

  When they're hurled off with not a thing to check

  Their going out? Dost thou not see indeed

  How swifter and how farther must they go

  And speed through manifold the length of space

  In time the same that from the sun the rays

  O'erspread the heaven? This also seems to be

  Example chief and true with what swift speed

  The images of things are borne about:

  That soon as ever under open skies

  Is spread the shining water, all at once,

  If stars be out in heaven, upgleam from earth,

  Serene and radiant in the water there,

  The constellations of the universe -

  Now seest thou not in what a point of time

  An image from the shores of ether falls

  Unto the shores of earth? Wherefore, again,

  And yet again, 'tis needful to confess

  With wondrous...

        THE SENSES AND MENTAL PICTURES

  Bodies that strike the eyes, awaking sight.

  From certain things flow odours evermore,

  As cold from rivers, heat from sun, and spray

  From waves of ocean, eater-out of walls

  Around the coasts. Nor ever cease to flit

  The varied voices, sounds athrough the air.

  Then too there comes into the mouth at times

  The wet of a salt taste, when by the sea

  We roam about; and so, whene'er we watch

  The wormword being mixed, its bitter stings.

  To such degree from all things is each thing

  Borne streamingly along, and sent about

  To every region round; and Nature grants

  Nor rest nor respite of the onward flow,

  Since 'tis incessantly we feeling have,

  And all the time are suffered to descry

  And smell all things at hand, and hear them sound.

  Besides, since shape examined by our hands

  Within the dark is known to be the same

  As that by eyes perceived within the light

  And lustrous day, both touch and sight must be

  By one like cause aroused. So, if we test

  A square and get its stimulus on us

  Within the dark, within the light what square

  Can fall upon our sight, except a square

  That images the things? Wherefore it seems

  The source of seeing is in images,

  Nor without these can anything be viewed.

    Now these same films I name are borne about

  And tossed and scattered into regions all.

  But since we do perceive alone through eyes,

  It follows hence that whitherso we turn

  Our sight, all things do strike against it there

  With form and hue. And just how far from us

  Each thing may be away, the image yields

  To us the power to see and chance to tell:

  For when 'tis sent, at once it shoves ahead

  And drives along the air that's in the space

  Betwixt it and our eyes. And thus this air

  All glides athrough our eyeballs, and, as 'twere,

  Brushes athrough our pupils and thuswise

  Passes across. Therefore it comes we see

  How far from us each thing may be away,

  And the more air there be that's driven before,

  And too the longer be the brushing breeze

  Against our eyes, the farther off removed

  Each thing is seen to be: forsooth, this work

  With mightily swift order all goes on,

  So that upon one instant we may see

  What kind the object and how far away.

    Nor over-marvellous must this be deemed

  In these affairs that, though the films which strike

  Upon the eyes cannot be singly seen,

  The things themselves may be perceived. For thus

  When the wind beats upon us stroke by stroke

  And when the sharp cold streams, 'tis not our wont

  To feel each private particle of wind

  Or of that cold, but rather all at once;

  And so we see how blows affect our body,

  As if one thing were beating on the same

  And giving us the feel of its own body

  Outside of us. Again, whene'er we thump

  With finger-tip upon a stone, we touch

  But the rock's surface and the outer hue,

  Nor feel that hue by contact - rather feel

  The very hardness deep within the rock.

    Now come, and why beyond a looking-glass

  An image may be seen, perceive. For seen

  It soothly is, removed far within.

  'Tis the same sort as objects peered upon

  Outside in their true shape, whene'er a door

  Yields through itself an open peering-place,

  And lets us see so many things outside

  Beyond the house. Also that sight is made

  By a twofold twin air: for first is seen

  The air inside the door-posts; next the doors,

  The twain to left and right; and afterwards

  A light beyond comes brushing through our eyes,

  Then other air, then objects peered upon

  Outside in their true shape. And thus, when first

  The image of the glass projects itself,

  As to our gaze it comes, it shoves ahead

  And drives along the air that's in the space

  Betwixt it and our eyes, and brings to pass

  That we perceive the air ere yet the glass.

  But when we've also seen the glass itself,

  Forthwith that image which from us is borne

  Reaches the glass, and there thrown back again

  Comes back unto our eyes, and driving rolls

  Ahead of itself another air, that then

  'Tis this we see before itself, and thus

  It looks so far removed behind the glass.

  Wherefore again, again, there's naught for wonder

  In those which render from the mirror's plane

  A vision back, since each thing comes to pass

  By means of the two airs. Now, in the glass

  The right part of our members is observed

  Upon the left, because, when comes the image

  Hitting against the level of the glass,

  'Tis not returned unshifted; but forced off

  Backwards in line direct and not oblique, -

  Exactly as whoso his plaster-mask

  Should dash, before 'twere dry, on post or beam,

  And it should straightway keep, at clinging there,

  Its shape, reversed, facing him who threw,

  And so remould the features it gives back:

  It comes that now the right eye is the left,

  The left the right. An image too may be

  From mirror into mirror handed on,

  Until of idol-films even five or six

  Have thus been gendered. For whatever things

  Shall hide back yonder in the house, the same,

  However far removed in twisting ways,

  May still be all brought forth through bending paths

  And by these several mirrors seen to be

  Within the house, since Nature so compels

  All things to be borne backward and spring off

  At equal angles from all other things.

  To such degree the image gleams across

  From mirror unto mirror; where 'twas left

  It comes to be the right, and then again

  Returns and changes round unto the left.

  Again, those little sides of mirrors curved

  Proportionate to the bulge of our own flank

  Send back to us their idols with the right

  Upon the right; and this is so because

  Either the image is passed on along

  From mirror unto mirror, and thereafter,

  When twice dashed off, flies back unto ourselves;

  Or else the image wheels itself around,

  When once unto the mirror it has come,

  Since the curved surface teaches it to turn

  To usward. Further, thou might'st well believe

  That these film-idols step along with us

  And set their feet in unison with ours

  And imitate our carriage, since from that

  Part of a mirror whence thou hast withdrawn

  Straightway no images can be returned.

    Further, our eye-balls tend to flee the bright

  And shun to gaze thereon; the sun even blinds,

  If thou goest on to strain them unto him,

  Because his strength is mighty, and the films

  Heavily downward from on high are borne

  Through the pure ether and the viewless winds,

  And strike the eyes, disordering their joints.

  So piecing lustre often burns the eyes,

  Because it holdeth many seeds of fire

  Which, working into eyes, engender pain.

  Again, whatever jaundiced people view

  Becomes wan-yellow, since from out their bodies

  Flow many seeds wan-yellow forth to meet

  The films of things, and many too are mixed

  Within their eye, which by contagion paint

  All things with sallowness. Again, we view

  From dark recesses things that stand in light,

  Because, when first has entered and possessed

  The open eyes this nearer darkling air,

  Swiftly the shining air and luminous

  Followeth in, which purges then the eyes

  And scatters asunder of that other air

  The sable shadows, for in large degrees

  This air is nimbler, nicer, and more strong.

  And soon as ever 'thas filled and oped with light

  The pathways of the eyeballs, which before

  Black air had blocked, there follow straightaway

  Those films of things out-standing in the light,

  Provoking vision - what we cannot do

  From out the light with objects in the dark,

  Because that denser darkling air behind

  Followeth in, and fills each aperture

  And thus blockades the pathways of the eyes

  That there no images of any things

  Can be thrown in and agitate the eyes.

    And when from far away we do behold

  The squared towers of a city, oft

  Rounded they seem, - on this account because

  Each distant angle is perceived obtuse,

  Or rather it is not perceived at all;

  And perishes its blow nor to our gaze

  Arrives its stroke, since through such length of air

  Are borne along the idols that the air

  Makes blunt the idol of the angle's point

  By numerous collidings. When thuswise

  The angles of the tower each and all

  Have quite escaped the sense, the stones appear

  As rubbed and rounded on a turner's wheel -

  Yet not like objects near and truly round,

  But with a semblance to them, shadowily.

  Likewise, our shadow in the sun appears

  To move along and follow our own steps

  And imitate our carriage - if thou thinkest

  Air that is thus bereft of light can walk,

  Following the gait and motion of mankind.

  For what we use to name a shadow, sure

  Is naught but air deprived of light. No marvel:

  Because the earth from spot to spot is reft

  Progressively of light of sun, whenever

  In moving round we get within its way,

  While any spot of earth by us abandoned

  Is filled with light again, on this account

  It comes to pass that what was body's shadow

  Seems still the same to follow after us

  In one straight course. Since, evermore pour in

  New lights of rays, and perish then the old,

  Just like the wool that's drawn into the flame.

  Therefore the earth is easily spoiled of light

  And easily refilled and from herself

  Washeth the black shadows quite away.

    And yet in this we don't at all concede

  That eyes be cheated. For their task it is

  To note in whatsoever place be light,

  In what be shadow: whether or no the gleams

  Be still the same, and whether the shadow which

  Just now was here is that one passing thither,

  Or whether the facts be what we said above,

  'Tis after all the reasoning of mind

  That must decide; nor can our eyeballs know

  The nature of reality. And so

  Attach thou not this fault of mind to eyes,

  Nor lightly think our senses everywhere

  Are tottering. The ship in which we sail

  Is borne along, although it seems to stand;

  The ship that bides in roadstead is supposed

  There to be passing by. And hills and fields

  Seem fleeing fast astern, past which we urge

  The ship and fly under the bellying sails.

  The stars, each one, do seem to pause, affixed

  To the ethereal caverns, though they all

  Forever are in motion, rising out

  And thence revisiting their far descents

  When they have measured with their bodies bright

  The span of heaven. And likewise sun and moon

  Seem biding in a roadstead, - objects which,

  As plain fact proves, are really borne along.

  Between two mountains far away aloft

  From midst the whirl of waters open lies

  A gaping exit for the fleet, and yet

  They seem conjoined in a single isle.

  When boys themselves have stopped their spinning round,

  The halls still seem to whirl and posts to reel,

  Until they now must almost think the roofs

  Threaten to ruin down upon their heads.

  And now, when Nature begins to lift on high

  The sun's red splendour and the tremulous fires,

  And raise him o'er the mountain-tops, those mountains -

  O'er which he seemeth then to thee to be,

  His glowing self hard by atingeing them

  With his own fire - are yet away from us

  Scarcely two thousand arrow-shots, indeed

  Oft scarce five hundred courses of a dart;

  Although between those mountains and the sun

  Lie the huge plains of ocean spread beneath

  The vasty shores of ether, and intervene

  A thousand lands, possessed by many a folk

  And generations of wild beasts. Again,

  A pool of water of but a finger's depth,

  Which lies between the stones along the pave,

  Offers a vision downward into earth

  As far, as from the earth o'erspread on high

  The gulfs of heaven; that thus thou seemest to view

  Clouds down below and heavenly bodies plunged

  Wondrously in heaven under earth.

  Then too, when in the middle of the stream

  Sticks fast our dashing horse, and down we gaze

  Into the river's rapid waves, some force

  Seems then to bear the body of the horse,

  Though standing still, reversely from his course,

  And swiftly push up-stream. And wheresoe'er

  We cast our eyes across, all objects seem

  Thus to be onward borne and flow along

  In the same way as we. A portico,

  Albeit it stands well propped from end to end

  On equal columns, parallel and big,

  Contracts by stages in a narrow cone,

  When from one end the long, long whole is seen, -

  Until, conjoining ceiling with the floor,

  And the whole right side with the left, it draws

  Together to a cone's nigh-viewless point.

  To sailors on the main the sun he seems

  From out the waves to rise, and in the waves

  To set and bury his light - because indeed

  They gaze on naught but water and the sky.

  Again, to gazers ignorant of the sea,

  Vessels in port seem, as with broken poops,

  To lean upon the water, quite agog;

  For any portion of the oars that's raised

  Above the briny spray is straight, and straight

  The rudders from above. But other parts,

  Those sunk, immersed below the water-line,

  Seem broken all and bended and inclined

  Sloping to upwards, and turned back to float

  Almost atop the water. And when the winds

  Carry the scattered drifts along the sky

  In the night-time, then seem to glide along

  The radiant constellations 'gainst the clouds

  And there on high to take far other course

  From that whereon in truth they're borne. And then,

  If haply our hand be set beneath one eye

  And press below thereon, then to our gaze

  Each object which we gaze on seems to be,

  By some sensation twain - then twain the lights

  Of lampions burgeoning in flowers of flame,

  And twain the furniture in all the house,

  Two-fold the visages of fellow-men,

  And twain their bodies. And again, when sleep

  Has bound our members down in slumber soft

  And all the body lies in deep repose,

  Yet then we seem to self to be awake

  And move our members; and in night's blind gloom

  We think to mark the daylight and the sun;

  And, shut within a room, yet still we seem

  To change our skies, our oceans, rivers, hills,

  To cross the plains afoot, and hear new sounds,

  Though still the austere silence of the night

  Abides around us, and to speak replies,

  Though voiceless. Other cases of the sort

  Wondrously many do we see, which all

  Seek, so to say, to injure faith in sense -

  In vain, because the largest part of these

  Deceives through mere opinions of the mind,

  Which we do add ourselves, feigning to see

  What by the senses are not seen at all.

  For naught is harder than to separate

  Plain facts from dubious, which the mind forthwith

  Adds by itself.

                    Again, if one suppose

  That naught is known, he knows not whether this

  Itself is able to be known, since he

  Confesses naught to know. Therefore with him

  I waive discussion - who has set his head

  Even where his feet should be. But let me grant

  That this he knows, - I question: whence he knows

  What 'tis to know and not-to-know in turn,

  And what created concept of the truth,

  And what device has proved the dubious

  To differ from the certain? - since in things

  He's heretofore seen naught of true. Thou'lt find

  That from the senses first hath been create

  Concept of truth, nor can the senses be

  Rebutted. For criterion must be found

  Worthy of greater trust, which shall defeat

  Through own authority the false by true;

  What, then, than these our senses must there be

  Worthy a greater trust? Shall reason, sprung

  From some false sense, prevail to contradict

  Those senses, sprung as reason wholly is

  From out of the senses? - For lest these be true,

  All reason also then is falsified.

  Or shall the ears have power to blame the eyes,

  Or yet the touch the ears? Again, shall taste

  Accuse this touch or shall the nose confute

  Or eyes defeat it? Methinks not so it is:

  For unto each has been divided of

  Its function quite apart, its power to each;

  And thus we're still constrained to perceive

  The soft, the cold, the hot apart, apart

  All divers hues and whatso things there be

  Conjoined with hues. Likewise the tasting tongue

  Has its own power apart, and smells apart

  And sounds apart are known. And thus it is

  That no one sense can e'er convict another.

  Nor shall one sense have power to blame itself,

  Because it always must be deemed the same,

  Worthy of equal trust. And therefore what

  At any time unto these senses showed,

  The same is true. And if the reason be

  Unable to unravel us the cause

  Why objects, which at hand were square, afar

  Seemed rounded, yet it more availeth us,

  Lacking the reason, to pretend a cause

  For each configuration, than to let

  From out our hands escape the obvious things

  And injure primal faith in sense, and wreck

  All those foundations upon which do rest

  Our life and safety. For not only reason

  Would topple down; but even our very life

  Would straightaway collapse, unless we dared

  To trust our senses and to keep away

  From headlong heights and places to be shunned

  Of a like peril, and to seek with speed

  Their opposites! Again, as in a building,

  If the first plumb-line be askew, and if

  The square deceiving swerve from lines exact,

  And if the level waver but the least

  In any part, the whole construction then

  Must turn out faulty - shelving and askew,

  Leaning to back and front, incongruous,

  That now some portions seem about to fall,

  And falls the whole ere long - betrayed indeed

  By first deceiving estimates: so too

  Thy calculations in affairs of life

  Must be askew and false, if sprung for thee

  From senses false. So all that troop of words

  Marshalled against the senses is quite vain.

    And now remains to demonstrate with ease

  How other senses each their things perceive.

    Firstly, a sound and every voice is heard,

  When, getting into ears, they strike the sense

  With their own body. For confess we must

  Even voice and sound to be corporeal,

  Because they're able on the sense to strike.

  Besides voice often scrapes against the throat,

  And screams in going out do make more rough

  The wind-pipe - naturally enough, methinks,

  When, through the narrow exit rising up

  In larger throng, these primal germs of voice

  Have thus begun to issue forth. In sooth,

  Also the door of the mouth is scraped against

  By air blown outward from distended cheeks.

  And thus no doubt there is, that voice and words

  Consist of elements corporeal,

  With power to pain. Nor art thou unaware

  Likewise how much of body's ta'en away,

  How much from very thews and powers of men

  May be withdrawn by steady talk, prolonged

  Even from the rising splendour of the morn

  To shadows of black evening, - above all

  If 't be outpoured with most exceeding shouts.

  Therefore the voice must be corporeal,

  Since the long talker loses from his frame

  A part.

          Moreover, roughness in the sound

  Comes from the roughness in the primal germs,

  As a smooth sound from smooth ones is create;

  Nor have these elements a form the same

  When the trump rumbles with a hollow roar,

  As when barbaric Berecynthian pipe

  Buzzes with raucous boomings, or when swans

  By night from icy shores of Helicon

  With wailing voices raise their liquid dirge.

    Thus, when from deep within our frame we force

  These voices, and at mouth expel them forth,

  The mobile tongue, artificer of words,

  Makes them articulate, and too the lips

  By their formations share in shaping them.

  Hence when the space is short from starting-point

  To where that voice arrives, the very words

  Must too be plainly heard, distinctly marked.

  For then the voice conserves its own formation,

  Conserves its shape. But if the space between

  Be longer than is fit, the words must be

  Through the much air confounded, and the voice

  Disordered in its flight across the winds -

  And so it haps, that thou canst sound perceive,

  Yet not determine what the words may mean;

  To such degree confounded and encumbered

  The voice approaches us. Again, one word,

  Sent from the crier's mouth, may rouse all ears

  Among the populace. And thus one voice

  Scatters asunder into many voices,

  Since it divides itself for separate ears,

  Imprinting form of word and a clear tone.

  But whatso part of voices fails to hit

  The ears themselves perishes, borne beyond,

  Idly diffused among the winds. A part,

  Beating on solid porticoes, tossed back

  Returns a sound; and sometimes mocks the ear

  With a mere phantom of a word. When this

  Thou well hast noted, thou canst render count

  Unto thyself and others why it is

  Along the lonely places that the rocks

  Give back like shapes of words in order like,

  When search we after comrades wandering

  Among the shady mountains, and aloud

  Call unto them, the scattered. I have seen

  Spots that gave back even voices six or seven

  For one thrown forth - for so the very hills,

  Dashing them back against the hills, kept on

  With their reverberations. And these spots

  The neighbouring country-side doth feign to be

  Haunts of the goat-foot satyrs and the nymphs;

  And tells ye there be fauns, by whose night noise

  And antic revels yonder they declare

  The voiceless silences are broken oft,

  And tones of strings are made and wailings sweet

  Which the pipe, beat by players' finger-tips,

  Pours out; and far and wide the farmer-race

  Begins to hear, when, shaking the garmentings

  Of pine upon his half-beast head, god-Pan

  With puckered lip oft runneth o'er and o'er

  The open reeds, - lest flute should cease to pour

  The woodland music! Other prodigies

  And wonders of this ilk they love to tell,

  Lest they be thought to dwell in lonely spots

  And even by gods deserted. This is why

  They boast of marvels in their story-tellings;

  Or by some other reason are led on -

  Greedy, as all mankind hath ever been,

  To prattle fables into ears.

                                Again,

  One need not wonder how it comes about

  That through those places (through which eyes cannot

  View objects manifest) sounds yet may pass

  And assail the ears. For often we observe

  People conversing, though the doors be closed;

  No marvel either, since all voice unharmed

  Can wind through bended apertures of things,

  While idol-films decline to - for they're rent,

  Unless along straight apertures they swim,

  Like those in glass, through which all images

  Do fly across. And yet this voice itself,

  In passing through shut chambers of a house,

  Is dulled, and in a jumble enters ears,

  And sound we seem to hear far more than words.

  Moreover, a voice is into all directions

  Divided up, since off from one another

  New voices are engendered, when one voice

  Hath once leapt forth, outstarting into many -

  As oft a spark of fire is wont to sprinkle

  Itself into its several fires. And so,

  Voices do fill those places hid behind,

  Which all are in a hubbub round about,

  Astir with sound. But idol-films do tend,

  As once set forth, in straight directions all;

  Wherefore one can inside a wall see naught,

  Yet catch the voices from beyond the same.

    Nor tongue and palate, whereby we flavour feel,

  Present more problems for more work of thought.

  Firstly, we feel a flavour in the mouth,

  When forth we squeeze it, in chewing up our food, -

  As any one perchance begins to squeeze

  With hand and dry a sponge with water soaked.

  Next, all which forth we squeeze is spread about

  Along the pores and intertwined paths

  Of the loose-textured tongue. And so, when smooth

  The bodies of the oozy flavour, then

  Delightfully they touch, delightfully

  They treat all spots, around the wet and trickling

  Enclosures of the tongue. And contrariwise,

  They sting and pain the sense with their assault,

  According as with roughness they're supplied.

  Next, only up to palate is the pleasure

  Coming from flavour; for in truth when down

  'Thas plunged along the throat, no pleasure is,

  Whilst into all the frame it spreads around;

  Nor aught it matters with what food is fed

  The body, if only what thou take thou canst

  Distribute well digested to the frame

  And keep the stomach in a moist career.

    Now, how it is we see some food for some,

  Others for others....

  I will unfold, or wherefore what to some

  Is foul and bitter, yet the same to others

  Can seem delectable to eat, - why here

  So great the distance and the difference is

  That what is food to one to some becomes

  Fierce poison, as a certain snake there is

  Which, touched by spittle of a man, will waste

  And end itself by gnawing up its coil.

  Again, fierce poison is the hellebore

  To us, but puts the fat on goats and quails.

  That thou mayst know by what devices this

  Is brought about, in chief thou must recall

  What we have said before, that seeds are kept

  Commixed in things in divers modes. Again,

  As all the breathing creatures which take food

  Are outwardly unlike, and outer cut

  And contour of their members bounds them round,

  Each differing kind by kind, they thus consist

  Of seeds of varying shape. And furthermore,

  Since seeds do differ, divers too must be

  The interstices and paths (which we do call

  The apertures) in all the members, even

  In mouth and palate too. Thus some must be

  More small or yet more large, three-cornered some

  And others squared, and many others round,

  And certain of them many-angled too

  In many modes. For, as the combination

  And motion of their divers shapes demand,

  The shapes of apertures must be diverse

  And paths must vary according to their walls

  That bound them. Hence when what is sweet to some,

  Becomes to others bitter, for him to whom

  'Tis sweet, the smoothest particles must needs

  Have entered caressingly the palate's pores.

  And, contrariwise, with those to whom that sweet

  Is sour within the mouth, beyond a doubt

  The rough and barbed particles have got

  Into the narrows of the apertures.

  Now easy it is from these affairs to know

  Whatever...

  Indeed, where one from o'er-abundant bile

  Is stricken with fever, or in other wise

  Feels the roused violence of some malady,

  There the whole frame is now upset, and there

  All the positions of the seeds are changed, -

  So that the bodies which before were fit

  To cause the savour, now are fit no more,

  And now more apt are others which be able

  To get within the pores and gender sour.

  Both sorts, in sooth, are intermixed in honey -

  What oft we've proved above to thee before.

    Now come, and I will indicate what wise

  Impact of odour on the nostrils touches.

  And first, 'tis needful there be many things

  From whence the streaming flow of varied odours

  May roll along, and we're constrained to think

  They stream and dart and sprinkle themselves about

  Impartially. But for some breathing creatures

  One odour is more apt, to others another -

  Because of differing forms of seeds and pores.

  Thus on and on along the zephyrs bees

  Are led by odour of honey, vultures too

  By carcasses. Again, the forward power

  Of scent in dogs doth lead the hunter on

  Whithersoever the splay-foot of wild beast

  Hath hastened its career; and the white goose,

  The saviour of the Roman citadel,

  Forescents afar the odour of mankind.

  Thus, diversely to divers ones is given

  Peculiar smell that leadeth each along

  To his own food or makes him start aback

  From loathsome poison, and in this wise are

  The generations of the wild preserved.

    Yet is this pungence not alone in odours

  Or in the class of flavours; but, likewise,

  The look of things and hues agree not all

  So well with senses unto all, but that

  Some unto some will be, to gaze upon,

  More keen and painful. Lo, the raving lions,

  They dare not face and gaze upon the cock

  Who's wont with wings to flap away the night

  From off the stage, and call the beaming morn

  With clarion voice - and lions straightway thus

  Bethink themselves of flight, because, ye see,

  Within the body of the cocks there be

  Some certain seeds, which, into lions' eyes

  Injected, bore into the pupils deep

  And yield such piercing pain they can't hold out

  Against the cocks, however fierce they be -

  Whilst yet these seeds can't hurt our gaze the least,

  Either because they do not penetrate,

  Or since they have free exit from the eyes

  As soon as penetrating, so that thus

  They cannot hurt our eyes in any part

  By there remaining.

                       To speak once more of odour;

  Whatever assail the nostrils, some can travel

  A longer way than others. None of them,

  However, 's borne so far as sound or voice -

  While I omit all mention of such things

  As hit the eyesight and assail the vision.

  For slowly on a wandering course it comes

  And perishes sooner, by degrees absorbed

  Easily into all the winds of air;

  And first, because from deep inside the thing

  It is discharged with labour (for the fact

  That every object, when 'tis shivered, ground,

  Or crumbled by the fire, will smell the stronger

  Is sign that odours flow and part away

  From inner regions of the things). And next,

  Thou mayest see that odour is create

  Of larger primal germs than voice, because

  It enters not through stony walls, wherethrough

  Unfailingly the voice and sound are borne;

  Wherefore, besides, thou wilt observe 'tis not

  So easy to trace out in whatso place

  The smelling object is. For, dallying on

  Along the winds, the particles cool off,

  And then the scurrying messengers of things

  Arrive our senses, when no longer hot.

  So dogs oft wander astray, and hunt the scent.

    Now mark, and hear what objects move the mind,

  And learn, in few, whence unto intellect

  Do come what come. And first I tell thee this:

  That many images of objects rove

  In many modes to every region round -

  So thin that easily the one with other,

  When once they meet, uniteth in mid-air,

  Like gossamer or gold-leaf. For, indeed,

  Far thinner are they in their fabric than

  Those images which take a hold on eyes

  And smite the vision, since through body's pores

  They penetrate, and inwardly stir up

  The subtle nature of mind and smite the sense.

  Thus, Centaurs and the limbs of Scyllas, thus

  The Cerberus-visages of dogs we see,

  And images of people gone before -

  Dead men whose bones earth bosomed long ago;

  Because the images of every kind

  Are everywhere about us borne - in part

  Those which are gendered in the very air

  Of own accord, in part those others which

  From divers things do part away, and those

  Which are compounded, made from out their shapes.

  For soothly from no living Centaur is

  That phantom gendered, since no breed of beast

  Like him was ever; but, when images

  Of horse and man by chance have come together,

  They easily cohere, as aforesaid,

  At once, through subtle nature and fabric thin.

  In the same fashion others of this ilk

  Created are. And when they're quickly borne

  In their exceeding lightness, easily

  (As earlier I showed) one subtle image,

  Compounded, moves by its one blow the mind,

  Itself so subtle and so strangely quick.

    That these things come to pass as I record,

  From this thou easily canst understand:

  So far as one is unto other like,

  Seeing with mind as well as with the eyes

  Must come to pass in fashion not unlike.

  Well, now, since I have shown that I perceive

  Haply a lion through those idol-films

  Such as assail my eyes, 'tis thine to know

  Also the mind is in like manner moved,

  And sees, nor more nor less than eyes do see

  (Except that it perceives more subtle films)

  The lion and aught else through idol-films.

  And when the sleep has overset our frame,

  The mind's intelligence is now awake,

  Still for no other reason, save that these -

  The self-same films as when we are awake -

  Assail our minds, to such degree indeed

  That we do seem to see for sure the man

  Whom, void of life, now death and earth have gained

  Dominion over. And Nature forces this

  To come to pass because the body's senses

  Are resting, thwarted through the members all,

  Unable now to conquer false with true;

  And memory lies prone and languishes

  In slumber, nor protests that he, the man

  Whom the mind feigns to see alive, long since

  Hath been the gain of death and dissolution.

    And further, 'tis no marvel idols move

  And toss their arms and other members round

  In rhythmic time - and often in men's sleeps

  It haps an image this is seen to do;

  In sooth, when perishes the former image,

  And other is gendered of another pose,

  That former seemeth to have changed its gestures.

  Of course the change must be conceived as speedy;

  So great the swiftness and so great the store

  Of idol-things, and (in an instant brief

  As mind can mark) so great, again, the store

  Of separate idol-parts to bring supplies.

    It happens also that there is supplied

  Sometimes an image not of kind the same;

  But what before was woman, now at hand

  Is seen to stand there, altered into male;

  Or other visage, other age succeeds;

  But slumber and oblivion take care

  That we shall feel no wonder at the thing.

    And much in these affairs demands inquiry,

  And much, illumination - if we crave

  With plainness to exhibit facts. And first,

  Why doth the mind of one to whom the whim

  To think has come behold forthwith that thing?

  Or do the idols watch upon our will,

  And doth an image unto us occur,

  Directly we desire - if heart prefer

  The sea, the land, or after all the sky?

  Assemblies of the citizens, parades,

  Banquets, and battles, these and all doth she,

  Nature, create and furnish at our word?

  Maugre the fact that in same place and spot

  Another's mind is meditating things

  All far unlike. And what, again, of this:

  When we in sleep behold the idols step,

  In measure, forward, moving supple limbs,

  Whilst forth they put each supple arm in turn

  With speedy motion, and with eyeing heads

  Repeat the movement, as the foot keeps time?

  Forsooth, the idols they are steeped in art,

  And wander to and fro well taught indeed, -

  Thus to be able in the time of night

  To make such games! Or will the truth be this:

  Because in one least moment that we mark -

  That is, the uttering of a single sound -

  There lurk yet many moments, which the reason

  Discovers to exist, therefore it comes

  That, in a moment how so brief ye will,

  The divers idols are hard by, and ready

  Each in its place diverse? So great the swiftness,

  So great, again, the store of idol-things,

  And so, when perishes the former image,

  And other is gendered of another pose,

  The former seemeth to have changed its gestures.

  And since they be so tenuous, mind can mark

  Sharply alone the ones it strains to see;

  And thus the rest do perish one and all,

  Save those for which the mind prepares itself.

  Further, it doth prepare itself indeed,

  And hopes to see what follows after each -

  Hence this result. For hast thou not observed

  How eyes, essaying to perceive the fine,

  Will strain in preparation, otherwise

  Unable sharply to perceive at all?

  Yet know thou canst that, even in objects plain,

  If thou attendest not, 'tis just the same

  As if 'twere all the time removed and far.

  What marvel, then, that mind doth lose the rest,

  Save those to which 'thas given up itself?

  So 'tis that we conjecture from small signs

  Things wide and weighty, and involve ourselves

  In snarls of self-deceit.

                SOME VITAL FUNCTIONS

                             In these affairs

  We crave that thou wilt passionately flee

  The one offence, and anxiously wilt shun

  The error of presuming the clear lights

  Of eyes created were that we might see;

  Or thighs and knees, aprop upon the feet,

  Thuswise can bended be, that we might step

  With goodly strides ahead; or forearms joined

  Unto the sturdy uppers, or serving hands

  On either side were given, that we might do

  Life's own demands. All such interpretation

  Is aft-for-fore with inverse reasoning,

  Since naught is born in body so that we

  May use the same, but birth engenders use:

  No seeing ere the lights of eyes were born,

  No speaking ere the tongue created was;

  But origin of tongue came long before

  Discourse of words, and ears created were

  Much earlier than any sound was heard;

  And all the members, so meseems, were there

  Before they got their use: and therefore, they

  Could not be gendered for the sake of use.

  But contrariwise, contending in the fight

  With hand to hand, and rending of the joints,

  And fouling of the limbs with gore, was there,

  O long before the gleaming spears ere flew;

  And Nature prompted man to shun a wound,

  Before the left arm by the aid of art

  Opposed the shielding targe. And, verily,

  Yielding the weary body to repose,

  Far ancienter than cushions of soft beds,

  And quenching thirst is earlier than cups.

  These objects, therefore, which for use and life

  Have been devised, can be conceived as found

  For sake of using. But apart from such

  Are all which first were born and afterwards

  Gave knowledge of their own utility -

  Chief in which sort we note the senses, limbs:

  Wherefore, again, 'tis quite beyond thy power

  To hold that these could thus have been create

  For office of utility.

                          Likewise,

  'Tis nothing strange that all the breathing creatures

  Seek, even by nature of their frame, their food.

  Yes, since I've taught thee that from off the things

  Stream and depart innumerable bodies

  In modes innumerable too; but most

  Must be the bodies streaming from the living -

  Which bodies, vexed by motion evermore,

  Are through the mouth exhaled innumerable,

  When weary creatures pant, or through the sweat

  Squeezed forth innumerable from deep within.

  Thus body rarefies, so undermined

  In all its nature, and pain attends its state.

  And so the food is taken to underprop

  The tottering joints, and by its interfusion

  To re-create their powers, and there stop up

  The longing, open-mouthed through limbs and veins,

  For eating. And the moist no less departs

  Into all regions that demand the moist;

  And many heaped-up particles of hot,

  Which cause such burnings in these bellies of ours,

  The liquid on arriving dissipates

  And quenches like a fire, that parching heat

  No longer now can scorch the frame. And so,

  Thou seest how panting thirst is washed away

  From off our body, how the hunger-pang

  It, too, appeased.

                       Now, how it comes that we,

  Whene'er we wish, can step with strides ahead,

  And how 'tis given to move our limbs about,

  And what device is wont to push ahead

  This the big load of our corporeal frame,

  I'll say to thee - do thou attend what's said.

  I say that first some idol-films of walking

  Into our mind do fall and smite the mind,

  As said before. Thereafter will arises;

  For no one starts to do a thing, before

  The intellect previsions what it wills;

  And what it there pre-visioneth depends

  On what that image is. When, therefore, mind

  Doth so bestir itself that it doth will

  To go and step along, it strikes at once

  That energy of soul that's sown about

  In all the body through the limbs and frame -

  And this is easy of performance, since

  The soul is close conjoined with the mind.

  Next, soul in turn strikes body, and by degrees

  Thus the whole mass is pushed along and moved.

  Then too the body rarefies, and air,

  Forsooth as ever of such nimbleness,

  Comes on and penetrates aboundingly

  Through opened pores, and thus is sprinkled round

  Unto all smallest places in our frame.

  Thus then by these twain factors, severally,

  Body is borne like ship with oars and wind.

  Nor yet in these affairs is aught for wonder

  That particles so fine can whirl around

  So great a body and turn this weight of ours;

  For wind, so tenuous with its subtle body,

  Yet pushes, driving on the mighty ship

  Of mighty bulk; one hand directs the same,

  Whatever its momentum, and one helm

  Whirls it around, whither ye please; and loads,

  Many and huge, are moved and hoisted high

  By enginery of pulley-blocks and wheels,

  With but light strain.

                      Now, by what modes this sleep

  Pours through our members waters of repose

  And frees the breast from cares of mind, I'll tell

  In verses sweeter than they many are;

  Even as the swan's slight note is better far

  Than that dispersed clamour of the cranes

  Among the south wind's aery clouds. Do thou

  Give me sharp ears and a sagacious mind, -

  That thou mayst not deny the things to be

  Whereof I'm speaking, nor depart away

  With bosom scorning these the spoken truths,

  Thyself at fault unable to perceive.

  Sleep chiefly comes when energy of soul

  Hath now been scattered through the frame, and part

  Expelled abroad and gone away, and part

  Crammed back and settling deep within the frame -

  Whereafter then our loosened members droop.

  For doubt is none that by the work of soul

  Exist in us this sense, and when by slumber

  That sense is thwarted, we are bound to think

  The soul confounded and expelled abroad -

  Yet not entirely, else the frame would lie

  Drenched in the everlasting cold of death.

  In sooth, where no one part of soul remained

  Lurking among the members, even as fire

  Lurks buried under many ashes, whence

  Could sense amain rekindled be in members,

  As flame can rise anew from unseen fire?

    By what devices this strange state and new

  May be occasioned, and by what the soul

  Can be confounded and the frame grow faint,

  I will untangle: see to it, thou, that I

  Pour forth my words not unto empty winds.

  In first place, body on its outer parts -

  Since these are touched by neighbouring aery gusts -

  Must there be thumped and strook by blows of air

  Repeatedly. And therefore almost all

  Are covered either with hides, or else with shells,

  Or with the horny callus, or with bark.

  Yet this same air lashes their inner parts,

  When creatures draw a breath or blow it out.

  Wherefore, since body thus is flogged alike

  Upon the inside and the out, and blows

  Come in upon us through the little pores

  Even inward to our body's primal parts

  And primal elements, there comes to pass

  By slow degrees, along our members then,

  A kind of overthrow; for then confounded

  Are those arrangements of the primal germs

  Of body and of mind. It comes to pass

  That next a part of soul's expelled abroad,

  A part retreateth in recesses hid,

  A part, too, scattered all about the frame,

  Cannot become united nor engage

  In interchange of motion. Nature now

  So hedges off approaches and the paths;

  And thus the sense, its motions all deranged,

  Retires down deep within; and since there's naught,

  As 'twere, to prop the frame, the body weakens,

  And all the members languish, and the arms

  And eyelids fall, and, as ye lie abed,

  Even there the houghs will sag and loose their powers.

  Again, sleep follows after food, because

  The food produces same result as air,

  Whilst being scattered round through all the veins;

  And much the heaviest is that slumber which,

  Full or fatigued, thou takest; since 'tis then