BOOK VI

                      PROEM

  'Twas Athens first, the glorious in name,

  That whilom gave to hapless sons of men

  The sheaves of harvest, and re-ordered life,

  And decreed laws; and she the first that gave

  Life its sweet solaces, when she begat

  A man of heart so wise, who whilom poured

  All wisdom forth from his truth-speaking mouth;

  The glory of whom, though dead, is yet to-day,

  Because of those discoveries divine

  Renowned of old, exalted to the sky.

  For when saw he that well-nigh everything

  Which needs of man most urgently require

  Was ready to hand for mortals, and that life,

  As far as might be, was established safe,

  That men were lords in riches, honour, praise,

  And eminent in goodly fame of sons,

  And that they yet, O yet, within the home,

  Still had the anxious heart which vexed life

  Unpausingly with torments of the mind,

  And raved perforce with angry plaints, then he,

  Then he, the master, did perceive that 'twas

  The vessel itself which worked the bane, and all,

  However wholesome, which from here or there

  Was gathered into it, was by that bane

  Spoilt from within - in part, because he saw

  The vessel so cracked and leaky that nowise

  'Tcould ever be filled to brim; in part because

  He marked how it polluted with foul taste

  Whate'er it got within itself. So he,

  The master, then by his truth-speaking words,

  Purged the breasts of men, and set the bounds

  Of lust and terror, and exhibited

  The supreme good whither we all endeavour,

  And showed the path whereby we might arrive

  Thereunto by a little cross-cut straight,

  And what of ills in all affairs of mortals

  Upsprang and flitted deviously about

  (Whether by chance or force), since Nature thus

  Had destined; and from out what gates a man

  Should sally to each combat. And he proved

  That mostly vainly doth the human race

  Roll in its bosom the grim waves of care.

  For just as children tremble and fear all

  In the viewless dark, so even we at times

  Dread in the light so many things that be

  No whit more fearsome than what children feign,

  Shuddering, will be upon them in the dark.

  This terror then, this darkness of the mind,

  Not sunrise with its flaring spokes of light,

  Nor glittering arrows of morning can disperse,

  But only Nature's aspect and her law.

  Wherefore the more will I go on to weave

  In verses this my undertaken task.

    And since I've taught thee that the world's great vaults

  Are mortal and that sky is fashioned

  Of frame e'en born in time, and whatsoe'er

  Therein go on and must perforce go on

  The most I have unravelled; what remains

  Do thou take in, besides; since once for all

  To climb into that chariot' renowned

  Of winds arise; and they appeased are

  So that all things again...

  Which were, are changed now, with fury stilled;

  All other movements through the earth and sky

  Which mortals gaze upon (O anxious oft

  In quaking thoughts!), and which abase their minds

  With dread of deities and press them crushed

  Down to the earth, because their ignorance

  Of cosmic causes forces them to yield

  All things unto the empery of gods

  And to concede the kingly rule to them.

  For even those men who have learned full well

  That godheads lead a long life free of care,

  If yet meanwhile they wonder by what plan

  Things can go on (and chiefly yon high things

  Observed o'erhead on the ethereal coasts),

  Again are hurried back unto the fears

  Of old religion and adopt again

  Harsh masters, deemed almighty, - wretched men,

  Unwitting what can be and what cannot,

  And by what law to each its scope prescribed,

  Its boundary stone that clings so deep in Time.

  Wherefore the more are they borne wandering on

  By blindfold reason. And, Memmius, unless

  From out thy mind thou spewest all of this

  And casteth far from thee all thoughts which be

  Unworthy gods and alien to their peace,

  Then often will the holy majesties

  Of the high gods be harmful unto thee,

  As by thy thought degraded, - not, indeed,

  That essence supreme of gods could be by this

  So outraged as in wrath to thirst to seek

  Revenges keen; but even because thyself

  Thou plaguest with the notion that the gods,

  Even they, the Calm Ones in serene repose,

  Do roll the mighty waves of wrath on wrath;

  Nor wilt thou enter with a serene breast

  Shrines of the gods; nor wilt thou able be

  In tranquil peace of mind to take and know

  Those images which from their holy bodies

  Are carried into intellects of men,

  As the announcers of their form divine.

  What sort of life will follow after this

  'Tis thine to see. But that afar from us

  Veriest reason may drive such life away,

  Much yet remains to be embellished yet

  In polished verses, albeit hath issued forth

  So much from me already; lo, there is

  The law and aspect of the sky to be

  By reason grasped; there are the tempest times

  And the bright lightnings to be hymned now -

  Even what they do and from what cause soe'er

  They're borne along - that thou mayst tremble not,

  Marking off regions of prophetic skies

  For auguries, O foolishly distraught,

  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 -

  Whereof nowise the causes do men know,

  And think divinities are working there.

  Do thou, Calliope, ingenious Muse,

  Solace of mortals and delight of gods,

  Point out the course before me, as I race

  On to the white line of the utmost goal,

  That I may get with signal praise the crown,

  With thee my guide!

                 GREAT METEOROLOGICAL

                    PHENOMENA, ETC.

                      And so in first place, then

  With thunder are shaken the blue deeps of heaven,

  Because the ethereal clouds, scudding aloft,

  Together clash, what time 'gainst one another

  The winds are battling. For never a sound there come

  From out the serene regions of the sky;

  But wheresoever in a host more dense

  The clouds foregather, thence more often comes

  A crash with mighty rumbling. And, again,

  Clouds cannot be of so condensed a frame

  As stones and timbers, nor again so fine

  As mists and flying smoke; for then perforce

  They'd either fall, borne down by their brute weight,

  Like stones, or, like the smoke, they'd powerless be

  To keep their mass, or to retain within

  Frore snows and storms of hail. And they give forth

  O'er skiey levels of the spreading world

  A sound on high, as linen-awning, stretched

  O'er mighty theatres, gives forth at times

  A cracking roar, when much 'tis beaten about

  Betwixt the poles and cross-beams. Sometimes, too,

  Asunder rent by wanton gusts, it raves

  And imitates the tearing sound of sheets

  Of paper - even this kind of noise thou mayst

  In thunder hear - or sound as when winds whirl

  With lashings and do buffet about in air

  A hanging cloth and flying paper-sheets.

  For sometimes, too, it chances that the clouds

  Cannot together crash head-on, but rather

  Move side-wise and with motions contrary

  Graze each the other's body without speed,

  From whence that dry sound grateth on our ears,

  So long drawn-out, until the clouds have passed

  From out their close positions.

                                   And, again,

  In following wise all things seem oft to quake

  At shock of heavy thunder, and mightiest walls

  Of the wide reaches of the upper world

  There on the instant to have sprung apart,

  Riven asunder, what time a gathered blast

  Of the fierce hurricane hath all at once

  Twisted its way into a mass of clouds,

  And, there enclosed, ever more and more

  Compelleth by its spinning whirl the cloud

  To grow all hollow with a thickened crust

  Surrounding; for thereafter, when the force

  And the keen onset of the wind have weakened

  That crust, lo, then the cloud, to-split in twain,

  Gives forth a hideous crash with bang and boom.

  No marvel this; since oft a bladder small,

  Filled up with air, will, when of sudden burst,

  Give forth a like large sound.

                               There's reason, too,

  Why clouds make sounds, as through them blow the winds:

  We see, borne down the sky, oft shapes of clouds

  Rough-edged or branched many forky ways;

  And 'tis the same, as when the sudden flaws

  Of northwest wind through the dense forest blow,

  Making the leaves to sough and limbs to crash.

  It happens too at times that roused force

  Of the fierce hurricane to-rends the cloud,

  Breaking right through it by a front assault;

  For what a blast of wind may do up there

  Is manifest from facts when here on earth

  A blast more gentle yet uptwists tall trees

  And sucks them madly from their deepest roots.

  Besides, among the clouds are waves, and these

  Give, as they roughly break, a rumbling roar;

  As when along deep streams or the great sea

  Breaks the loud surf. It happens, too, whenever

  Out from one cloud into another falls

  The fiery energy of thunderbolt,

  That straightaway the cloud, if full of wet,

  Extinguishes the fire with mighty noise;

  As iron, white from the hot furnaces,

  Sizzles, when speedily we've plunged its glow

  Down the cold water. Further, if a cloud

  More dry receive the fire, 'twill suddenly

  Kindle to flame and burn with monstrous sound,

  As if a flame with whirl of winds should range

  Along the laurel-tressed mountains far,

  Upburning with its vast assault those trees;

  Nor is there aught that in the crackling flame

  Consumes with sound more terrible to man

  Than Delphic laurel of Apollo lord.

  Oft, too, the multitudinous crash of ice

  And down-pour of swift hail gives forth a sound

  Among the mighty clouds on high; for when

  The wind hath packed them close, each mountain mass

  Of rain-cloud, there congealed utterly

  And mixed with hail-stones, breaks and booms...

  Likewise, it lightens, when the clouds have struck,

  By their collision, forth the seeds of fire:

  As if a stone should smite a stone or steel,

  For light then too leaps forth and fire then scatters

  The shining sparks. But with our ears we get

  The thunder after eyes behold the flash,

  Because forever things arrive the ears

  More tardily than the eyes - as thou mayst see

  From this example too: when markest thou

  Some man far yonder felling a great tree

  With double-edged ax, it comes to pass

  Thine eye beholds the swinging stroke before

  The blow gives forth a sound athrough thine ears:

  Thus also we behold the flashing ere

  We hear the thunder, which discharged is

  At same time with the fire and by same cause,

  Born of the same collision.

                               In following wise

  The clouds suffuse with leaping light the lands,

  And the storm flashes with tremulous elan:

  When the wind hath invaded a cloud, and, whirling there,

  Hath wrought (as I have shown above) the cloud

  Into a hollow with a thickened crust,

  It becomes hot of own velocity:

  Just as thou seest how motion will o'erheat

  And set ablaze all objects - verily

  A leaden ball, hurtling through length of space,

  Even melts. Therefore, when this same wind a-fire

  Hath split black cloud, it scatters the fire-seeds,

  Which, so to say, have been pressed out by force

  Of sudden from the cloud - and these do make

  The pulsing flashes of flame; thence followeth

  The detonation which attacks our ears

  More tardily than aught which comes along

  Unto the sight of eyeballs. This takes place -

  As know thou mayst - at times when clouds are dense

  And one upon the other piled aloft

  With wonderful upheavings - nor be thou

  Deceived because we see how broad their base

  From underneath, and not how high they tower.

  For make thine observations at a time

  When winds shall bear athwart the horizon's blue

  Clouds like to mountain-ranges moving on,

  Or when about the sides of mighty peaks

  Thou seest them one upon the other massed

  And burdening downward, anchored in high repose,

  With the winds sepulchred on all sides round:

  Then canst thou know their mighty masses, then

  Canst view their caverns, as if builded there

  Of beetling crags; which, when the hurricanes

  In gathered storm have filled utterly,

  Then, prisoned in clouds, they rave around

  With mighty roarings, and within those dens

  Bluster like savage beasts, and now from here,

  And now from there, send growlings through the clouds,

  And seeking an outlet, whirl themselves about,

  And roll from 'mid the clouds the seeds of fire,

  And heap them multitudinously there,

  And in the hollow furnaces within

  Wheel flame around, until from bursted cloud

  In forky flashes they have gleamed forth.

    Again, from following cause it comes to pass

  That yon swift golden hue of liquid fire

  Darts downward to the earth: because the clouds

  Themselves must hold abundant seeds of fire;

  For, when they be without all moisture, then

  They be for most part of a flamy hue

  And a resplendent. And, indeed, they must

  Even from the light of sun unto themselves

  Take multitudinous seeds, and so perforce

  Redden and pour their bright fires all abroad.

  And therefore, when the wind hath driven and thrust,

  Hath forced and squeezed into one spot these clouds,

  They pour abroad the seeds of fire pressed out,

  Which make to flash these colours of the flame.

  Likewise, it lightens also when the clouds

  Grow rare and thin along the sky; for, when

  The wind with gentle touch unravels them

  And breaketh asunder as they move, those seeds

  Which make the lightnings must by nature fall;

  At such an hour the horizon lightens round

  Without the hideous terror of dread noise

  And skiey uproar.

                        To proceed apace,

  What sort of nature thunderbolts posses

  Is by their strokes made manifest and by

  The brand-marks of their searing heat on things,

  And by the scorched scars exhaling round

  The heavy fumes of sulphur. For all these

  Are marks, O not of wind or rain, but fire.

  Again, they often enkindle even the roofs

  Of houses and inside the very rooms

  With swift flame hold a fierce dominion.

  Know thou that Nature fashioned this fire

  Subtler than fires all other, with minute

  And dartling bodies - a fire 'gainst which there's naught

  Can in the least hold out: the thunderbolt,

  The mighty, passes through the hedging walls

  Of houses, like to voices or a shout -

  Through stones, through bronze it passes, and it melts

  Upon the instant bronze and gold; and makes,

  Likewise, the wines sudden to vanish forth,

  The wine-jars intact - because, ye see,

  Its heat arriving renders loose and porous

  Readily all the wine - jar's earthen sides,

  And winding its way within, it scattereth

  The elements primordial of the wine

  With speedy dissolution - process which

  Even in an age the fiery steam of sun

  Could not accomplish, however puissant he

  With his hot coruscations: so much more

  Agile and overpowering is this force.

    Now in what manner engendered are these things,

  How fashioned of such impetuous strength

  As to cleave towers asunder, and houses all

  To overtopple, and to wrench apart

  Timbers and beams, and heroes' monuments

  To pile in ruins and upheave amain,

  And to take breath forever out of men,

  And to o'erthrow the cattle everywhere, -

  Yes, by what force the lightnings do all this,

  All this and more, I will unfold to thee,

  Nor longer keep thee in mere promises.

    The bolts of thunder, then, must be conceived

  As all begotten in those crasser clouds

  Up-piled aloft; for, from the sky serene

  And from the clouds of lighter density,

  None are sent forth forever. That 'tis so

  Beyond a doubt, fact plain to sense declares:

  To wit, at such a time the densed clouds

  So mass themselves through all the upper air

  That we 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 might,

  Do faces of black horror hang on high -

  When tempest begins its thunderbolts to forge.

  Besides, full often also out at sea

  A blackest thunderhead, like cataract

  Of pitch hurled down from heaven, and far away

  Bulging with murkiness, down on the waves

  Falls with vast uproar, and draws on amain

  The darkling tempests big with thunderbolts

  And hurricanes, itself the while so crammed

  Tremendously with fires and winds, that even

  Back on the lands the people shudder round

  And seek for cover. Therefore, as I said,

  The storm must be conceived as o'er our head

  Towering most high; for never would the clouds

  O'erwhelm the lands with such a massy dark,

  Unless up-builded heap on lofty heap,

  To shut the round sun off. Nor could the clouds,

  As on they come, engulf with rain so vast

  As thus to make the rivers overflow

  And fields to float, if ether were not thus

  Furnished with lofty-piled clouds. Lo, then,

  Here be all things fulfilled with winds and fires -

  Hence the long lightnings and the thunders loud.

  For, verily, I've taught thee even now

  How cavernous clouds hold seeds innumerable

  Of fiery exhalations, and they must

  From off the sunbeams and the heat of these

  Take many still. And so, when that same wind

  (Which, haply, into one region of the sky

  Collects those clouds) hath pressed from out the same

  The many fiery seeds, and with that fire

  Hath at the same time intermixed itself,

  O then and there that wind, a whirlwind now,

  Deep in the belly of the cloud spins round

  In narrow confines, and sharpens there inside

  In glowing furnaces the thunderbolt.

  For in a two-fold manner is that wind

  Enkindled all: it trembles into heat

  Both by its own velocity and by

  Repeated touch of fire. Thereafter, when

  The energy of wind is heated through

  And the fierce impulse of the fire hath sped

  Deeply within, O then the thunderbolt,

  Now ripened, so to say, doth suddenly

  Splinter the cloud, and the aroused flash

  Leaps onward, lumining with forky light

  All places round. And followeth anon

  A clap so heavy that the skiey vaults,

  As if asunder burst, seem from on high

  To engulf the earth. Then fearfully a quake

  Pervades the lands, and 'long the lofty skies

  Run the far rumblings. For at such a time

  Nigh the whole tempest quakes, shook through and through,

  And roused are the roarings - from which shock

  Comes such resounding and abounding rain,

  That all the murky ether seems to turn

  Now into rain, and, as it tumbles down,

  To summon the fields back to primeval floods:

  So big the rains that be sent down on men

  By burst of cloud and by the hurricane,

  What time the thunder-clap, from burning bolt

  That cracks the cloud, flies forth along. At times

  The force of wind, excited from without,

  Smiteth into a cloud already hot

  With a ripe thunderbolt. And when that wind

  Hath splintered that cloud, then down there cleaves forthwith

  Yon fiery coil of flame which still we call,

  Even with our fathers' word, a thunderbolt.

  The same thing haps toward every other side

  Whither that force hath swept. It happens, too,

  That sometimes force of wind, though hurtled forth

  Without all fire, yet in its voyage through space

  Igniteth, whilst it comes along, along -

  Losing some larger bodies which cannot

  Pass, like the others, through the bulks of air -

  And, scraping together out of air itself

  Some smaller bodies, carries them along,

  And these, commingling, by their flight make fire:

  Much in the manner as oft a leaden ball

  Grows hot upon its aery course, the while

  It loseth many bodies of stark cold

  And taketh into itself along the air

  New particles of fire. It happens, too,

  That force of blow itself arouses fire,

  When force of wind, a-cold and hurtled forth

  Without all fire, hath strook somewhere amain -

  No marvel, because, when with terrific stroke

  'Thas smitten, the elements of fiery-stuff

  Can stream together from out the very wind

  And, simultaneously, from out that thing

  Which then and there receives the stroke: as flies

  The fire when with the steel we hack the stone;

  Nor yet, because the force of steel's a-cold,

  Rush the less speedily together there

  Under the stroke its seeds of radiance hot.

  And therefore, thuswise must an object too

  Be kindled by a thunderbolt, if haply

  'Thas been adapt and suited to the flames.

  Yet force of wind must not be rashly deemed

  As altogether and entirely cold -

  That force which is discharged from on high

  With such stupendous power; but if 'tis not

  Upon its course already kindled with fire,

  It yet arriveth warmed and mixed with heat.

    And, now, the speed and stroke of thunderbolt

  Is so tremendous, and with glide so swift

  Those thunderbolts rush on and down, because

  Their roused force itself collects itself

  First always in the clouds, and then prepares

  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, and 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.

  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 clouds 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

  The nature of the mighty world a time

  Of doom and cataclysm, albeit they see

  So great a bulk of lands to bulge and break!

  And lest the winds blew back again, no force

  Could rein things in nor hold from sure career

  On to disaster. But now because those winds

  Blow back and forth in alternation strong,

  And, so to say, rallying charge again,

  And then repulsed retreat, on this account

  Earth oftener threatens than she brings to pass

  Collapses dire. For to one side she leans,

  Then back she sways; and after tottering

  Forward, recovers then her seats of poise.

  Thus, this is why whole houses rock, the roofs

  More than the middle stories, middle more

  Than lowest, and the lowest least of all.

    Arises, too, this same great earth-quaking,

  When wind and some prodigious force of air,

  Collected from without or down within

  The old telluric deeps, have hurled themselves

  Amain into those caverns sub-terrene,

  And there at first tumultuously chafe

  Among the vasty grottos, borne about

  In mad rotations, till their lashed force

  Aroused out-bursts abroad, and then and there,

  Riving the deep earth, makes a mighty chasm -

  What once in Syrian Sidon did befall,

  And once in Peloponnesian Aegium,

  Twain cities which such out-break of wild air

  And earth's convulsion, following hard upon,

  O'erthrew of old. And many a walled town,

  Besides, hath fall'n by such omnipotent

  Convulsions on the land, and in the sea

  Engulfed hath sunken many a city down

  With all its populace. But if, indeed,

  They burst not forth, yet is the very rush

  Of the wild air and fury-force of wind

  Then dissipated, like an ague-fit,

  Through the innumerable pores of earth,

  To set her all a-shake - even as a chill,

  When it hath gone into our marrow-bones,

  Sets us convulsively, despite ourselves,

  A-shivering and a-shaking. Therefore, men

  With two-fold terror bustle in alarm

  Through cities to and fro: they fear the roofs

  Above the head; and underfoot they dread

  The caverns, lest the nature of the earth

  Suddenly rend them open, and she gape,

  Herself asunder, with tremendous maw,

  And, all confounded, seek to chock it full

  With her own ruins. Let men, then, go on

  Feigning at will that heaven and earth shall be

  Inviolable, entrusted evermore

  To an eternal weal: and yet at times

  The very force of danger here at hand

  Prods them on some side with this goad of fear -

  This among others - that the earth, withdrawn

  Abruptly from under their feet, be hurried down,

  Down into the abyss, and the Sum-of-Things

  Be following after, utterly fordone,

  Till be but wrack and wreckage of a world.

           EXTRAORDINARY AND PARADOXICAL

               TELLURIC PHENOMENA

    In chief, men marvel Nature renders not

  Bigger and bigger the bulk of ocean, since

  So vast the down-rush of the waters be,

  And every river out of every realm

  Cometh thereto; and add the random rains

  And flying tempests, which spatter every sea

  And every land bedew; add their own springs:

  Yet all of these unto the ocean's sum

  Shall be but as the increase of a drop.

  Wherefore 'tis less a marvel that the sea,

  The mighty ocean, increaseth not. Besides,

  Sun with his heat draws off a mighty part:

  Yea, we behold that sun with burning beams

  To dry our garments dripping all with wet;

  And many a sea, and far out-spread beneath,

  Do we behold. Therefore, however slight

  The portion of wet that sun on any spot

  Culls from the level main, he still will take

  From off the waves in such a wide expanse

  Abundantly. Then, further, also winds,

  Sweeping the level waters, can bear off

  A mighty part of wet, since we behold

  Oft in a single night the highways dried

  By winds, and soft mud crusted o'er at dawn.

    Again, I've taught thee that the clouds bear off

  Much moisture too, up-taken from the reaches

  Of the mighty main, and sprinkle it about

  O'er all the zones, when rain is on the lands

  And winds convey the aery racks of vapour.

  Lastly, since earth is porous through her frame,

  And neighbours on the seas, girdling their shores,

  The water's wet must seep into the lands

  From briny ocean, as from lands it comes

  Into the seas. For brine is filtered off,

  And then the liquid stuff seeps back again

  And all re-poureth at the river-heads,

  Whence in fresh-water currents it returns

  Over the lands, adown the channels which

  Were cleft erstwhile and erstwhile bore along

  The liquid-footed floods.

                              And now the cause

  Whereby athrough the throat of Aetna's Mount

  Such vast tornado-fires out-breathe at times,

  I will unfold: for with no middling might

  Of devastation the flamy tempest rose

  And held dominion in Sicilian fields:

  Drawing upon itself the upturned faces

  Of neighbouring clans, what time they saw afar

  The skiey vaults a-fume and sparkling all,

  And filled their bosoms with dread anxiety

  Of what new thing Nature were travailing at.

    In these affairs it much behooveth thee

  To look both wide and deep, and far abroad

  To peer to every quarter, that thou mayst

  Remember how boundless is the Sum-of-Things,

  And mark how infinitely small a part

  Of the whole Sum is this one sky of ours -

  O not so large a part as is one man

  Of the whole earth. And plainly if thou viewest

  This cosmic fact, placing it square in front,

  And plainly understandest, thou wilt leave

  Wondering at many things. For who of us

  Wondereth if some one gets into his joints

  A fever, gathering head with fiery heat,

  Or any other dolorous disease

  Along his members? For anon the foot

  Grows blue and bulbous; often the sharp twinge

  Seizes the teeth, attacks the very eyes;

  Out-breaks the sacred fire, and, crawling on

  Over the body, burneth every part

  It seizeth on, and works its hideous way

  Along the frame. No marvel this, since, lo,

  Of things innumerable be seeds enough,

  And this our earth and sky do bring to us

  Enough of bane from whence can grow the strength

  Of maladies uncounted. Thuswise, then,

  We must suppose to all the sky and earth

  Are ever supplied from out the infinite

  All things, O all in stores enough whereby

  The shaken earth can of a sudden move,

  And fierce typhoons can over sea and lands

  Go tearing on, and Aetna's fires o'erflow,

  And heaven become a flame-burst. For that, too,

  Happens at times, and the celestial vaults

  Glow into fire, and rainy tempests rise

  In heavier congregation, when, percase,

  The seeds of water have foregathered thus

  From out the infinite. "Aye, but passing huge

  The fiery turmoil of that conflagration!"

  So sayst thou; well, huge many a river seems

  To him that erstwhile ne'er a larger saw;

  Thus, huge seems tree or man; and everything

  Which mortal sees the biggest of each class,

  That he imagines to be "huge"; though yet

  All these, with sky and land and sea to boot,

  Are all as nothing to the sum entire

  Of the all-Sum.

                    But now I will unfold

  At last how yonder suddenly angered flame

  Out-blows abroad from vasty furnaces

  Aetnaean. First, the mountain's nature is

  All under-hollow, propped about, about

  With caverns of basaltic piers. And, lo,

  In all its grottos be there wind and air -

  For wind is made when air hath been uproused

  By violent agitation. When this air

  Is heated through and through, and, raging round,

  Hath made the earth and all the rocks it touches

  Horribly hot, and hath struck off from them

  Fierce fire of swiftest flame, it lifts itself

  And hurtles thus straight upwards through its throat

  Into high heav'n, and thus bears on afar

  Its burning blasts and scattereth afar

  Its ashes, and rolls a smoke of pitchy murk

  And heaveth the while boulders of wondrous weight

  Leaving no doubt in thee that 'tis the air's

  Tumultuous power. Besides, in mighty part,

  The sea there at the roots of that same mount

  Breaks its old billows and sucks back its surf.

  And grottos from the sea pass in below

  Even to the bottom of the mountain's throat.

  Herethrough thou must admit there go...

  And the conditions force the water and air

  Deeply to penetrate from the open sea,

  And to out-blow abroad, and to up-bear

  Thereby the flame, and to up-cast from deeps

  The boulders, and to rear the clouds of sand.

  For at the top be "bowls," as people there

  Are wont to name what we at Rome do call

  The throats and mouths.

                           There be, besides, some thing

  Of which 'tis not enough one only cause

  To state - but rather several, whereof one

  Will be the true: lo, if thou shouldst espy

  Lying afar some fellow's lifeless corse,

  'Twere meet to name all causes of a death,

  That cause of his death might thereby be named:

  For prove thou mayst he perished not by steel,

  By cold, nor even by poison nor disease,

  Yet somewhat of this sort hath come to him

  We know - And thus we have to say the same

  In divers cases.

                      Toward the summer, Nile

  Waxeth and overfloweth the champaign,

  Unique in all the landscape, river sole

  Of the Aegyptians. In mid-season heats

  Often and oft he waters Aegypt o'er,

  Either because in summer against his mouths

  Come those north winds which at that time of year

  Men name the Etesian blasts, and, blowing thus

  Upstream, retard, and, forcing back his waves,

  Fill him o'erfull and force his flow to stop.

  For out of doubt these blasts which driven be

  From icy constellations of the pole

  Are borne straight up the river. Comes that river

  From forth the sultry places down the south,

  Rising far up in midmost realm of day,

  Among black generations of strong men

  With sun-baked skins. 'Tis possible, besides,

  That a big bulk of piled sand may bar

  His mouths against his onward waves, when sea,

  Wild in the winds, tumbles the sand to inland;

  Whereby the river's outlet were less free,

  Likewise less headlong his descending floods.

  It may be, too, that in this season rains

  Are more abundant at its fountain head,

  Because the Etesian blasts of those north winds

  Then urge all clouds into those inland parts.

  And, soothly, when they're thus foregathered there.

  Urged yonder into midmost realm of day,

  Then, crowded against the lofty mountain sides,

  They're massed and powerfully pressed. Again,

  Perchance, his waters wax, O far away,

  Among the Aethiopians' lofty mountains,

  When the all-beholding sun with thawing beams

  Drives the white snows to flow into the vales.

    Now come; and unto thee I will unfold,

  As to the Birdless spots and Birdless tarns,

  What sort of nature they are furnished with.

  First, as to name of "birdless," - that derives

  From very fact, because they noxious be

  Unto all birds. For when above those spots

  In horizontal flight the birds have come,

  Forgetting to oar with wings, they furl their sails,

  And, with down-drooping of their delicate necks,

  Fall headlong into earth, if haply such

  The nature of the spots, or into water,

  If haply spreads there under Birdless tarn.

  Such spot's at Cumae, where the mountains smoke,

  Charged with the pungent sulphur, and increased

  With steaming springs. And such a spot there is

  Within the walls of Athens, even there

  On summit of Acropolis, beside

  Fane of Tritonian Pallas bountiful,

  Where never cawing crows can wing their course,

  Not even when smoke the altars with good gifts -

  But evermore they flee - yet not from wrath

  Of Pallas, grieved at that espial old,

  As poets of the Greeks have sung the tale;

  But very nature of the place compels.

  In Syria also - as men say - a spot

  Is to be seen, where also four-foot kinds,

  As soon as ever they've set their steps within,

  Collapse, o'ercome by its essential power,

  As if there slaughtered to the under-gods.

  Lo, all these wonders work by natural law,

  And from what causes they are brought to pass

  The origin is manifest; so, haply,

  Let none believe that in these regions stands

  The gate of Orcus, nor us then suppose,

  Haply, that thence the under-gods draw down

  Souls to dark shores of Acheron - as stags,

  The wing-footed, are thought to draw to light,

  By sniffing nostrils, from their dusky lairs

  The wriggling generations of wild snakes.

  How far removed from true reason is this,

  Perceive thou straight; for now I'll try to say

  Somewhat about the very fact.

                                   And, first,

  This do I say, as oft I've said before:

  In earth are atoms of things of every sort;

  And know, these all thus rise from out the earth -

  Many life-giving which be good for food,

  And many which can generate disease

  And hasten death, O many primal seeds

  Of many things in many modes - since earth

  Contains them mingled and gives forth discrete.

  And we have shown before that certain things

  Be unto certain creatures suited more

  For ends of life, by virtue of a nature,

  A texture, and primordial shapes, unlike

  For kinds alike. Then too 'tis thine to see

  How many things oppressive be and foul

  To man, and to sensation most malign:

  Many meander miserably through ears;

  Many in-wind athrough the nostrils too,

  Malign and harsh when mortal draws a breath;

  Of not a few must one avoid the touch;

  Of not a few must one escape the sight;

  And some there be all loathsome to the taste;

  And many, besides, relax the languid limbs

  Along the frame, and undermine the soul

  In its abodes within. To certain trees

  There hath been given so dolorous a shade

  That often they gender achings of the head,

  If one but be beneath, outstretched on the sward.

  There is, again, on Helicon's high hills

  A tree that's wont to kill a man outright

  By fetid odour of its very flower.

  And when the pungent stench of the night-lamp,

  Extinguished but a moment since, assails

  The nostrils, then and there it puts to sleep

  A man afflicted with the falling sickness

  And foamings at the mouth. A woman, too,

  At the heavy castor drowses back in chair,

  And from her delicate fingers slips away

  Her gaudy handiwork, if haply she

  Hath got the whiff at menstruation-time.

  Once more, if thou delayest in hot baths,

  When thou art over-full, how readily

  From stool in middle of the steaming water

  Thou tumblest in a fit! How readily

  The heavy fumes of charcoal wind their way

  Into the brain, unless beforehand we

  Of water 've drunk. But when a burning fever,

  O'ermastering man, hath seized upon his limbs,

  Then odour of wine is like a hammer-blow.

  And seest thou not how in the very earth

  Sulphur is gendered and bitumen thickens

  With noisome stench. What direful stenches, too,

  Scaptensula out-breathes from down below,

  When men pursue the veins of silver and gold,

  With pick-axe probing round the hidden realms

  Deep in the earth? - Or what of deadly bane

  The mines of gold exhale? O what a look,

  And what a ghastly hue they give to men!

  And seest thou not, or hearest, how they're wont

  In little time to perish, and how fail

  The life-stores in those folk whom mighty power

  Of grim necessity confineth there

  In such a task? Thus, this telluric earth

  Out-streams with all these dread effluvia

  And breathes them out into the open world

  And into the visible regions under heaven.

    Thus, too, those Birdless places must up-send

  An essence bearing death to winged things,

  Which from the earth rises into the breezes

  To poison part of skiey space, and when

  Thither the winged is on pennons borne,

  There, seized by the unseen poison, 'tis ensnared,

  And from the horizontal of its flight

  Drops to the spot whence sprang the effluvium.

  And when 'thas there collapsed, then the same power

  Of that effluvium takes from all its limbs

  The relics of its life. That power first strikes

  The creatures with a wildering dizziness,

  And then thereafter, when they're once down-fallen

  Into the poison's very fountains, then

  Life, too, they vomit out perforce, because

  So thick the stores of bane around them fume.

    Again, at times it happens that this power,

  This exhalation of the Birdless places,

  Dispels the air betwixt the ground and birds,

  Leaving well-nigh a void. And thither when

  In horizontal flight the birds have come,

  Forthwith their buoyancy of pennons limps,

  All useless, and each effort of both wings

  Falls out in vain. Here, when without all power

  To buoy themselves and on their wings to lean,

  Lo, Nature constrains them by their weight to slip

  Down to the earth, and lying prostrate there

  Along the well-nigh empty void, they spend

  Their souls through all the openings of their frame.

    Further, the water of wells is colder then

  At summer time, because the earth by heat

  Is rarefied, and sends abroad in air

  Whatever seeds it peradventure have

  Of its own fiery exhalations.

  The more, then, the telluric ground is drained

  Of heat, the colder grows the water hid

  Within the earth. Further, when all the earth

  Is by the cold compressed, and thus contracts

  And, so to say, concretes, it happens, lo,

  That by contracting it expresses then

  Into the wells what heat it bears itself.

    'Tis said at Hammon's fane a fountain is,

  In daylight cold and hot in time of night.

  This fountain men be-wonder over-much,

  And think that suddenly it seethes in heat

  By intense sun, the subterranean, when

  Night with her terrible murk hath cloaked the lands -

  What's not true reasoning by a long remove:

  I' faith when sun o'erhead, touching with beams

  An open body of water, had no power

  To render it hot upon its upper side,

  Though his high light possess such burning glare,

  How, then, can he, when under the gross earth,

  Make water boil and glut with fiery heat? -

  And, specially, since scarcely potent he

  Through hedging walls of houses to inject

  His exhalations hot, with ardent rays.

  What, then, the principle? Why, this, indeed:

  The earth about that spring is porous more

  Than elsewhere the telluric ground, and be

  Many the seeds of fire hard by the water;

  On this account, when night with dew-fraught shades

  Hath whelmed the earth, anon the earth deep down

  Grows chill, contracts; and thuswise squeezes out

  Into the spring what seeds she holds of fire

  (As one might squeeze with fist), which render hot

  The touch and steam of the fluid. Next, when sun,

  Up-risen, with his rays has split the soil

  And rarefied the earth with waxing heat,