On the Nature of the Universe (Oxford World’s Classics) (18 page)

Unable ever to join and form connections

 

Or stay connected or to grow by increase.

 

But plain fact shows that both these things do happen:

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Things can be born, and being born can grow.

 

Therefore it is obvious that an infinite number

 

Of primal atoms exists of every kind

 

So as to maintain the supply of everything.

 

Thus never can the motions of destruction

 

Prevail for ever, entombing life for ever,

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Nor can the motions of creation and growth

 

Forever keep intact what they have fashioned.

 

Thus the war waged between the primal atoms

 

Is fought from infinity on equal terms.

 

Now here, now there, the vital powers in things

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Vanquish and in turn are vanquished. The funeral dirge

 

Blends with the wailing of the infant child

 

When first newborn it sees the shores of light.

 

No night has followed day, no dawn a night,

 

That has not heard, mixed with those fretful cries,

 

Laments that march with death and death’s dark obsequies.

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Now here’s another thing you should keep signed and sealed

 

And locked and treasured in your memory:

 

That there is nothing, among all things visible,

 

That consists of one kind of atom only;

 

Nothing that is not a mixture of elements.

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The more qualities and powers a thing possesses,

 

The more it tells that it has great quantity

 

Of different atoms and of varied shapes.

 

Firstly, the earth holds atoms in itself

 

From which the springs, their coolness welling forth,

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Continually renew the boundless sea.

 

It holds those atoms too whence fires are born.

 

The surface of the earth in many a place

 

Is set alight and burns, while from deep down

 

The fires arise that kindle Etna’s fury.

 

Further, it holds the means to raise bright crops

 

And joyful orchards for the race of men,

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And rivers too and leaves and joyful pastures

 

For creatures of the wild that range the hills.

 

Therefore the earth and earth alone is named

 

Great Mother of the Gods, Mother of beasts,

 

And procreatress of our human frame.

 

Of her of old the Grecian poets sang

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Learned in ancient lore; a goddess she

 

In chariot seated by two lions drawn;

 

Teaching thereby that the world’s mighty mass

 

Hangs fast in space, and earth cannot rest on earth.

 

They yoked wild beasts to show that stubborn children

 

Must be subdued by parents’ loving care.

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Upon her head they set a mural crown

 

Because established safe on chosen heights

 

Well fortified she bears the weight of cities.

 

In solemn state the image thus adorned

 

Of the holy Mother is borne now through the world.

 

And different peoples in their ancient rites

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Name her Idaean Mother; and Phrygians

 

They appoint escort since from there, they say,

 

First came the corn that spreads now through the world.

 

Eunuchs they give her, wishing thus to show

 

That those who violate the Mother’s godhead

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And have been found ungrateful to their parents

 

Must be accounted shameful and unworthy

 

To bring live offspring into the shores of light.

 

On tight-drawn drums palms thunder, cymbals clash,

 

Horns blare their hoarse threats out, the hollow pipe

 

Thrills every heart with Phrygian melodies.

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Next spears are borne before her, savage signs

 

Of force, to terrify the crowd’s ungrateful minds

 

And impious hearts with fear of power divine.

 

Therefore when first she rides through some great city,

 

And silent, with unspoken benediction

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Blesses mankind, much copper then and silver

 

They strew along her way in rich largesse,

 

And with a snow of roses falling, falling

 

Shadow the Mother and her retinue.

 

Next comes an armed band dancing, fired with blood,

 

Leaping in rhythm midst the Phrygian throng,

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Shaking their awful crests with nodding heads.

 

These the Greeks name Curetes. They recall

 

Dicte’s Curetes who, the story tells,

 

In Crete once drowned the infant cries of Jove.

 

A band of boys around the baby boy

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All armed and nimbly dancing, keeping time,

 

Clashed bronze on bronze, lest Saturn find the child

 

And seize and crush him in his jaws, and deal

 

The Mother’s heart an everlasting wound.

 

Therefore in arms the Great Mother they escort,

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Or else to show the goddess’ high command

 

That they in arms and valour strong be ready

 

To defend their native land, and to their parents

 

Protection give and pride for all to see.

 

All this is well and admirably told.

 

It is, however, far removed from truth.

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For perfect peace gods by their very nature

 

Must of necessity enjoy, and immortal life,

 

Far separate, far removed from our affairs.

 

For free from every sorrow, every danger,

 

Strong in their own powers, needing naught from us,

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They are not won by gifts nor touched by anger.

 

Indeed the earth is now and has been always

 

Devoid entirely of any kind of feeling.

 

The reason why it brings forth many things

 

In many ways into the light of sun

 

Is that it holds a multitude of atoms.

 

If anyone decides to call the sea Neptune,

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And corn Ceres, and misuse the name of Bacchus

 

Rather than give grape juice its proper title,

 

Let us agree that he can call the earth

 

Mother of the Gods, on this condition—

 

That he refuses to pollute his mind

 

With the foul poison of religion.

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We often see grazing the fields together

 

Under the same wide canopy of heaven

 

Sheep in their woolly flocks, the martial breed

 

Of horses, and the horned herds of cattle,

 

Quenching their thirst all from a single stream,

 

And yet to each life gives a different shape,

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And each retains the nature of its parents,

 

Each after its kind copies their behaviour.

 

So great is the variety of matter

 

In every kind of herbage, every river.

 

Moreover every animal of every kind

 

Is made of bones, blood, veins, heat, moisture, flesh, and sinews,

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And all of these are widely different,

 

Being formed of atoms differently shaped.

 

Again, whatever can be set on fire

 

And burnt, for sure must hide within its body,

 

If nothing else, at least the matter needed

 

To generate flame and fire and send out light,

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And make sparks fly and scatter glowing embers.

 

And all the rest, if with like reasoning

 

You run through them in your mind, you’ll find they have

 

The seeds of many things hidden inside them

 

And make combinations of atoms of various shapes.

 

Again, you see many things have colour and taste

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Together with smell. Chief among these might be

 

Burnt offerings smoking on some holy altar.

 

These therefore must be made of various shapes.

 

For scent can permeate the human frame

 

Where colour cannot go; and colour glides

 

Into the senses separately from taste.

 

Thus you’ll recognize that their atoms have different shapes.

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Different shapes therefore combine in a single mass

 

And all things are composed of a mixture of seeds.

 

Everywhere in my verses you can see

 

Many letters common to many words,

 

Although it is obvious that both words and verses

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Are different and composed of different letters.

 

Not that there are not many letters common

 

To separate words, or that no two words consist

 

Of the same letters, but as a general rule

 

Words are not made up of the same letters.

 

Likewise in other things, though many atoms

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Are common to many things, yet combined together

 

They can make a whole quite different in substance.

 

So that the human race and crops and fruitful trees

 

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