To Babylonian stuffs; their duties languish; Their reputation totters and grows sick.
While at her lover’s cost she anoints herself With precious unguents, and upon her feet Beautiful Sicyonian slippers laugh.
Then doubtless she has set for her in gold Big green-lit emeralds; and the sea-purple dress, Worn out by constant use, imbibes the sweat Of love’s encounters. The wealth which their fathers Had nobly gathered, becomes hair-ribbons And head-dresses, or else may be is turned Into a long Greek gown, or stuffs of Alinda And Ceos. Feasts with goodly broideries And viands are prepared, games, numerous cups, Unguents, crowns and festoons; but all in vain; Since from the well-spring of delights some touch Of bitter rises, to give pain amidst The very flowers; either when the mind Perchance grows conscience-stricken, and remorse Gnaws it, thus to be spending a life of sloth, And ruining itself in wanton haunts; Or else because she has launched forth some word And left its sense in doubt, some word that clings To the hungry heart, and quickens there like fire; Or that he fancies she is casting round Her eyes too freely, or looks upon some other, And on her face sees traces of a smile.
When love is permanent and fully prosperous, These evils are experienced; but if love Be crossed and hopeless, there are evils such That you might apprehend them with closed eyes, Beyond numbering; so that it is wiser, As I have taught you, to be vigilant Beforehand, and watch well lest you be snared.
For to avoid being tripped up in love’s toils Is not so difficult as, once you are caught, To issue from the nets and to break through The strong meshes of Venus. None the less Even when you are tangled and involved, You may escape the peril, unless you stand In your own way, and always overlook Every defect whether of mind or body In her whom you pursue and long to win.
For this is how men generally behave Blinded by lust, and assign to those they love Good qualities which are not truly theirs.
So we see women in various ways misformed And ugly, to be fondly loved and held In highest favour. And a man will mock His fellows, urging them to placate Venus, Because they are troubled by a degrading love, Yet often the poor fool will have no eyes For his own far worse plight. The tawny is called A honey brown; the filthy and unclean, Reckless of order; the green-eyed, a Pallas; The sinewy and angular, a gazelle; The tiny and dwarfish is a very Grace, Nothing but sparkle; the monstrous and ungainly, A marvel, and composed of majesty.
She stammers, cannot talk, why then she lisps; The mute is bashful; but the fiery-tongued Malicious gossip becomes a brilliant torch.
One is a slender darling, when she scarce Can live for lack of flesh; and one half dead With cough, is merely frail and delicate.
Then the fat and full-bosomed is Ceres’ self Suckling Iacchus; the snub-nosed, a female Silenus, or a Satyress; the thick-lipped, A kiss incarnate. But more of this sort It were a tedious labour to recite.
Yet be she noble of feature as you will, And let the might of Venus emanate From every limb; still there are others too; Still we have lived without her until now; Still she does, and we know she does, the same In all things as the ugly, and, poor wretch, Perfumes herself with evil-smelling scents, While her maids run and hide to giggle in secret.
But the excluded lover many a time With flowers and garlands covers tearfully The threshold, and anoints the haughty posts With oil of marjoram, and imprints, poor man, Kisses upon the doors. Yet when at last He has been admitted, if but a single breath Should meet him as he enters, he would seek Specious excuses to be gone, and so The long-studied, deep-drawn complaint would fall To the ground, and he would then convict himself Of folly, now he sees he had attributed More to her than is right to grant a mortal.
Nor to our Venuses is this unknown: Wherefore the more are they at pains to hide All that takes place behind the scenes of life From those they would keep fettered in love’s chains But all in vain, since in imagination You yet may draw forth all these things to light, Discovering every cause for ridicule: And if she be of a mind that still can charm, And not malicious, you may in your turn Overlook faults and pardon human frailty.
Nor always with feigned love does the woman sigh, When with her own uniting the man’s body She holds him clasped, with moistened kisses sucking His lips into her lips. Nay, from the heart She often does it, and seeking mutual joys Woos him to run to the utmost goal of love.
And nowise else could birds, cattle, wild beasts, And sheep and mares submit to males, except That their exuberant nature is in heat, And burning draws towards them joyously The lust of the covering mates. See you not also That those whom mutual pleasure has enchained Are often tormented in their common chains?
How often on the highroads dogs desiring To separate, will strain in opposite ways Eagerly with all their might, yet the whole time They are held fast in the strong bonds of Venus!
Thus they would never act, unless they had Experience of mutual joys, enough To thrust them into the snare and hold them bound.
Therefore I assert, the pleasure must be common.
Often when, mingling her seed with the man’s, The woman with sudden force has overwhelmed And mastered the man’s force, then children are borne Like to the mother from the mother’s seed, As from the father’s seed like to the father.
But those whom you see sharing the form of both, Mingling their parents’ features side by side, Grow from the father’s body and mother’s blood, When mutual ardour has conspired to fling The seeds together, roused by the goads of Venus Throughout the frame, and neither of the two Has gained the mastery nor yet been mastered.
Moreover sometimes children may be born Like their grandparents, and will often recall The forms of their remoter ancestors, Because the parents often hold concealed Within their bodies many primal atoms Mingled in many ways, which, handed down From the first stock, father transmits to father.
And out of these Venus produces forms With ever-varying chances, and recalls The look and voice and hair of ancestors: Since truly these things are no more derived From a determined seed, than are our faces Bodies and limbs. Also the female sex May spring from a father’s seed, and males come forth Formed from a mother’s body: for the birth Is always fashioned out of the two seeds.
Whichever of the two that which is born Is most like, of that parent it will have More than an equal share; as you may observe, Whether it be a male or female offspring.
Nor do divine powers thwart in any man A fruitful sowing, so that he may never Receive from sweet children the name of father, But in sterile wedlock must live out his days; As men in general fancy, and so sprinkle The altars sorrowfully with much blood, And heap the shrine-tables with offerings, To make their wives pregnant with copious seed.
But vainly they importune the divinity And sortilege of the gods. For they are sterile Sometimes from too great thickness of the seed, Or else it is unduly thin and fluid.
Because the thin cannot adhere and cleave To the right spots, it forthwith flows away Defeated, and departs abortively.
Others again discharge a seed too thick, More solid than is suitable, which either Does not shoot forth with so far-flung a stroke, Or cannot so well penetrate where it should, Or having penetrated, does not easily Mix with the woman’s seed. For harmonies Seem to be most important in love’s rites.
And some men will more readily fertilise Some women, and other women will conceive More readily and grow pregnant from other men.
And many women, sterile hitherto In several marriages, have yet at last Found mates from whom they could conceive children, And so become enriched with a sweet offspring.
And even for those to whom their household wives, However fruitful, had failed so far to bear, A well-matched nature has been often found That they might fortify their age with children.
So important is it, if seeds are to agree And blend with seeds for purposes of birth, Whether the thick encounters with the fluid, And the fluid with the thick. Also herein It is of moment on what diet life Is nourished; for the seed within the limbs By some foods is made solid, and by others Is thinned and dwindled. Also in what modes Love’s bland delight is dealt with, that likewise Is of the highest moment. For in general Women are thought more readily to conceive After the manner of wild beasts and quadrupeds, Since so the seeds can find the proper spots, The breasts being bent downward, the loins raised.
Nor have wives the least need of wanton movements.
For a woman thwarts conception and frustrates it, If with her loins she joyously lures on The man’s love, and, with her whole bosom relaxed And limp, provokes lust’s tide to overflow.
For then she thrusts the furrow from the share’s Direct path, turning the seed’s stroke aside From its right goal. And thus for their own ends Harlots are wont to move, because they wish Not to conceive nor lie in childbed often, Likewise that Venus may give men more pleasure.
But of this surely our wives should have no need.
Sometimes, by no divine interposition Nor through the shafts of Venus, a plain woman, Though of inferior beauty, may be loved.
For sometimes she herself by her behaviour, Her gentle ways and personal daintiness Will easily accustom you to spend Your whole life with her. And indeed ’tis custom That harmonises love. For what is struck However lightly by repeated blows, Yet after a long lapse of time is conquered And must dissolve. Do you not likewise see That drops of water falling upon stones After long lapse of time will pierce them through?
BOOK V Who is there that by energy of mind Could build a poem worthy of our theme’s Majesty and of these discoveries?
Or who has such a mastery of words As to devise praises proportionate To his deserts, who to us has bequeathed Such prizes, earned by his own intellect?
No man, I think, formed of a mortal body.
For if we are to speak as the acknowledged Majesty of our theme demands, a god Was he, most noble Memmius, a god, Who first found out that discipline of life Which now is called philosophy, and whose skill From such great billows and a gloom so dark Delivered life, and steered it into a calm So peaceful and beneath so bright a light.
For compare the divine discoveries Of others in old times. ’Tis told that Ceres First revealed corn to men, Liber the juice Of grape-born wine; though life without these things Might well have been sustained; and even now ’Tis said there are some people that live so.
But to live happily was not possible Without a serene mind. Therefore more justly Is this man deemed by us a god, from whom Came those sweet solaces of life, which now Already through great nations spread abroad Have power to soothe men’s minds. Should you suppose Moreover that the deeds of Hercules Surpass his, then yet further will you drift Out of true reason’s course. For what harm now Would those great gaping jaws of Nemea’s lion Do to us, and the bristly Arcadian boar?
What could the bull of Crete, or Lerna’s pest The Hydra fenced around with venomous snakes, And threefold Gerion’s triple-breasted might, Or those brazen-plumed birds inhabiting Stymphalian swamps, what injury so great Could they inflict upon us, or the steeds Of Thracian Diomede, with fire-breathing nostrils Ranging Bistonia’s wilds and Ismarus?
Also the serpent, guardian of the bright Gold-gleaming apples of the Hesperides, Fierce and grim-glancing, with huge body coiled Round the tree’s stem, how were it possible He could molest us by the Atlantic shore And those lone seas, where none of us sets foot, And no barbarian ventures to draw near?
And all those other monsters which likewise Have been destroyed, if they had not been vanquished, What harm, pray, could they do, though now alive?
None, I presume: for the earth even now abounds With wild beasts to repletion, and is filled With shuddering terror throughout its woods, great mountains And deep forests, regions which we have power For the most part to avoid. But if the heart Has not been purged, what tumults then, what dangers Must needs invade us in our own despite!
What fierce anxieties, offspring of desire, Rend the distracted man, what mastering fears!
Pride also, sordid avarice, and violence, Of what calamities are not they the cause!
Luxury too, and slothfulness! He therefore Who could subdue all these, and banish them Out of our minds by force of words, not arms, Is it not right we should deem such a man Worthy to be numbered among the gods?
The more that he was wont in beautiful And godlike speech to utter many truths About the immortal gods themselves, and set The whole nature of things in clear words forth.
I, in his footsteps treading, follow out His reasonings and expound in my discourse By what law all things are created, how They are compelled to abide within that law, Without power to annul the immutable Decrees of time; and first above all else The mind’s nature was found to be composed Of a body that had birth, without the power To endure through a long period unscathed: For it was found to be mere images That are wont to deceive the mind in sleep, Whenever we appear to behold one Whom life has abandoned. Now, for what remains, The order of my argument has brought me To the point where I must show both how the world Is composed of a body which must die, Also that it was born; and in what way Matter once congregating and uniting Established earth sky sea, the stars, the sun, And the moon’s globe: also what living creatures Rose from the earth, and which were those that never At any time were born: next in what way Mankind began to employ varied speech One with another by giving names to things: Then for what causes that fear of the gods Entered their breasts, and now through the whole world Gives sanctity to shrines, lakes and groves, Altars and images of gods. Moreover I will make plain by what force and control Nature pilots the courses of the sun And the wanderings of the moon, lest we perchance Deem that they traverse of their own free will Their yearly orbits between heaven and earth, Obsequiously furthering the increase Of crops and living things, or should suppose That they roll onwards by the gods’ design.
For those who have learnt rightly that the gods Lead a life free from care, if yet they wonder By what means all things can be carried on, Such above all as are perceived to happen In the ethereal regions overhead, They are borne back again into their old Religious fears, and adopt pitiless lords, Whom in their misery they believe to be Almighty; for they are ignorant of what can And what cannot exist; in fine they know not Upon what principle each thing has its powers Limited, and its deep-set boundary stone.
But now, lest I detain you with more promises, In the first place consider, Memmius, The seas, the land, the sky, whose threefold nature, Three bodies, three forms so dissimilar, And three such wondrous textures, a single day Shall give to destruction, and the world’s vast mass And fabric, for so many years upheld, Shall fall to ruin. Nor am I unaware How novel and strange, when first it strikes the mind, Must appear this destruction of earth and heaven That is to be, and for myself how difficult It will prove to convince you by mere words, As happens when one brings to a man’s ears Some notion unfamiliar hitherto, If yet one cannot thrust it visibly Beneath his eyes, or place it in his hands; For the paved highway of belief through touch And sight leads straightest into the human heart And the precincts of the mind. Yet none the less I will speak out. Reality itself It may be will bring credence to my words, And in a little while you will behold The earth terribly quaking, and all things Shattered to ruins. But may pilot fortune Steer far from us such disaster, and may reason Convince us rather than reality That the whole universe may well collapse, Tumbling together with a dread crash and roar.
But before I attempt concerning this To announce fate’s oracles in more holy wise, And with assurance far more rational Than doth the Pythoness, when from the tripod And laurel wreath of Phoebus her voice sounds, Many consolatories will I first Expound to you in learned words, lest haply Curbed by religion’s bit you should suppose That earth and sun and sky, sea, stars and moon, Their substance being divine, must needs abide Eternally, and should therefore think it just That all, after the manner of the giants, Should suffer penance for their monstrous guilt Who by their reasoning shake the world’s firm walls, And fain would quench the glorious sun in heaven, Shaming with mortal speech immortal things; Though in fact such objects are so far removed From any share in divine energy, And so unworthy to be accounted gods, That they may be considered with more reason To afford us the conception of what is quite Devoid of vital motion and of sense.
For truly by no means can we suppose That the nature and judgment of the mind Can exist linked with every kind of body, Even as in the sky trees cannot exist, Nor clouds in the salt waters, nor can fish Live in the fields, neither can blood be found In wood, nor sap in stones: but where each thing Can dwell and grow, is determined and ordained.
Even so the nature of mind cannot be born Alone without a body, nor exist Separated from sinews and from blood.
But if (for this is likelier by far) The mind’s force might reside within the head Or shoulders, or be born down in the heels, Or in any part you will, it would at least Inhabit the same man and the same vessel.
But since even in our body it is seen To be determined and ordained where soul And mind can separately dwell and grow, All the more must it be denied that mind Cannot have being quite outside a body And a living form, in crumbling clods of earth, In the sun’s fire, or water, or aloft In the domains of ether. Such things therefore Are not endowed with divine consciousness, Because they cannot be quickened into life.
This too you cannot possibly believe, That there are holy abodes of deities Anywhere in the world. For so tenuous Is the nature of gods, and from our senses So far withdrawn, that hardly can the mind Imagine it. And seeing that hitherto It has eluded touch or blow of hands, It must touch nothing which for us is tangible: For naught can touch that may not itself be touched.
So even their abodes must be unlike Our own, tenuous as their bodies are.
All this hereafter I will prove to you By plentiful argument. Further, to say That for the sake of mankind the gods willed To frame the wondrous nature of the world, And that on this account we ought to extol Their handiwork as worthy of all praise, And to believe that it will prove eternal And indestructible, and to think it sin Ever by any effort to disturb What by the ancient wisdom of the gods Has been established everlastingly For mankind’s benefit, or by argument To assail and overthrow it utterly From top to bottom, and to invent besides Other such errors--all this, Memmius, Is folly. For what advantage could our thanks Bestow upon immortal and blessed beings That for our sakes they should bestir themselves To perform any task? Or what new fact Could have induced them, tranquil hitherto, After so long to change their former life?
For it seems fitting he should take delight In a new state of things, to whom the old Was painful: but for him whom in past times, While he was living in felicity, No evil had befallen, for such a one What could have kindled a desire for change?
Must we imagine that their life lay prostrate In darkness and in misery, till the birth And origin of things first dawned upon them?
Besides, what evil had it been to us Not to have been created? For whoever Has once been born, must wish to abide in life So long as luring pleasure bids him stay: But one who has never tasted the love of life, Nor even been numbered in life’s ranks, what harm Were it for him not to have been created?
Again whence first was implanted in the gods A pattern for begetting things? Whence too The preconception of what men should be, So that they knew and imaged in their minds What they desired to make? And by what means Could they have ever ascertained the energy Latent in primal atoms, or what forms Might be produced by changes in their order, Unless Nature herself had given them first A sample of creation? For indeed These primal atoms in such multitudes And in so many ways, through infinite time Impelled by blows and moved by their own weight, Have been borne onward so incessantly, Uniting in every way and making trial Of every shape they could combine to form, That ’tis not strange if they have also fallen Into such grouping, and acquired such motions As those whereby the present sum of things Is carried on and ceaselessly renewed.
But even were I ignorant how things Were formed of primal elements, yet this Would I have ventured to affirm, and prove Not only from the system of the heavens, But from much other evidence, that nature Has by no means been fashioned for our benefit By divine power; so great are the defects Which are its bane. First, of the whole space Covered by the enormous reach of heaven, A greedy portion mountains occupy And forests of wild beasts; rocks and waste swamps Possess it, or the wide land-sundering sea.
Besides, well nigh two-thirds are stolen from men By burning heat and frost ceaselessly falling.
All that is left for husbandry, even that The force of Nature soon would overspread With thorns, unless resisted by man’s force, Ever wont for his livelihood to groan Over the strong hoe, and with down-pressed plough To cleave the earth. For if we do not turn The fertile clods with coulters, and subduing The soil of earth, summon the crops to birth, They could not of their own accord spring up Into the bright air. Even then sometimes, When answering our long toil throughout the land Every bud puts forth its leaves and flowers, Either the sun in heaven scorches them With too much heat, or sudden gusts of rain Or nipping frosts destroy them, or wind-storms Shatter them with impetuous whirling blasts.
Furthermore why does Nature multiply And nourish terrible tribes of savage beasts By land and sea, dangerous to mankind?
Why does untimely death range to and fro?
Then again, like a mariner cast ashore By raging waves, the human infant lies Naked upon the ground, speechless, in want Of every help needful for life, when first Nature by birth-throes from his mother’s womb Thrusts him into the borders of the light, So that he fills the room with piteous wailing, As well he may, whose fate in life will be To pass through so much misery. But flocks And herds of divers kind, and the wild beasts, These, as they grow up, have no need of rattles: To none of them a foster-nurse must utter Fond broken speech: they seek not different dresses To suit each season: no, nor do they need Weapons nor lofty walls whereby to guard What is their own, since all things for them all The Earth herself brings forth abundantly, And Nature, the creatress manifold.
First of all, since the substance of the earth, Moisture, and the light breathings of the air, And burning heats, of which this sum of things Is seen to be composed, have all been formed Of a body that was born and that will die, Of such a body must we likewise deem That the whole nature of the world was made.
For things whose parts and members we see formed Of a body that had birth and shapes that die, These we perceive are themselves always mortal, And likewise have been born. Since then we see That the chief parts and members of the world Decay and are reborn, it is no less certain That once for heaven and earth there was a time Of origin, and will be of destruction.
Herein lest you should think that without proof I have seized this vantage, in that I have assumed Earth and fire to be mortal, and have not doubted That moisture and air perish, but maintained That these too are reborn and grow afresh, Consider first how no small part of the earth Ceaselessly baked by the sun’s rays and trampled By innumerable feet, gives off a mist And flying clouds of dust, which the strong winds Disperse through the whole atmosphere. Part too Of the earth’s soil is turned to swamp by rains, While scouring rivers gnaw their banks away.
Furthermore whatsoever goes to augment Some other thing, is in its turn restored; And since beyond all doubt the all-mother Earth Is seen to be no less the general tomb, You thus may see how she is ever lessened, Yet with new growth increases evermore.
Next, that the sea, the rivers and the springs Are always amply fed by new supplies Of moisture oozing up perennially, It needs no words to explain. The vast down-flow Of waters from all sides is proof of this.
But as the water that is uppermost Is always taken away, it comes to pass That on the whole there is no overflow; Partly because strong winds, sweeping the seas, Diminish them, and the sun in heaven unweaves Their fabric with his rays; partly because The water is distributed below Throughout all lands. For the salt is strained off, And the pure fluid matter, oozing back, Gathers together at the river-heads, Thence in fresh current streams over the land, Wherever it finds a channel ready scooped To carry down its waves with liquid foot.
Now must I speak of air, which every hour Is changed through its whole body in countless ways.
For always whatsoever flows from things Is all borne into the vast sea of air: And if it were not in its turn to give Particles back to things, recruiting them As they dissolve, all would have been long since Disintegrated, and so changed to air.
Therefore it never ceases to be born Out of things, and to pass back into things, Since, as we know, all are in constant flux.
Likewise that bounteous fountain of clear light, The sun in heaven, ceaselessly floods the sky With fresh brightness, and momently supplies The place of light with new light: for each former Emission of his radiance perishes, On whatsoever spot it falls. This truth You may thus learn. So soon as clouds begin To pass below the sun, and as it were To break off the light’s rays, their lower part Forthwith perishes wholly, and the earth Is shadow-swept, wherever the clouds move.
Thus you may know that things have ever need Of fresh illumination, and that each Former discharge of radiance perishes, Nor in any other way could things be seen In sunlight, if the fountain-head itself Did not send forth a perpetual supply.
Also those lights we use here upon earth At night-time, hanging lamps, and torches bright With darting beams, rich with abundant smoke, Are in haste in like fashion to supply New radiance with ministering fire; The very flames seem eager, eager to flicker; Nor does the still unbroken stream of light One instant quit the spots whereon it played, So suddenly is its perishing concealed By the swift birth of flame from all these fires.
It is thus then you must think sun moon and stars Shoot forth their light from ever fresh supplies, And that they always lose whatever beams Come foremost; lest perchance you should believe Their energy to be indestructible.
Again, is it not seen that even stones By time are vanquished, that tall towers fall And rocks crumble away, that shrines and idols Of gods grow worn out and dilapidate, Nor may the indwelling holiness prolong The bounds of destiny, or strive against The laws of Nature? Then do we not see The monuments of men, fallen to ruin, Ask for themselves whether you would believe That they also grow old?[F] See we not rocks Split off from mountain heights fall crashing down Unable more to endure the powerful stress Of finite years? Surely they would not fall Thus suddenly split off, if through the lapse Of infinite past years they had withstood All the assaults of time, without being shattered.
Now contemplate that which around and above Compasses the whole earth with its embrace.
If it begets all things out of itself, As some have told us, and receives them back When they have perished, then the whole sky is made Of a body that had birth and that must die.
For whatsoever nourishes and augments Other things from itself, must needs be minished, And be replenished, when it receives them back.
Moreover, if there never was a time Of origin when earth and heaven were born, If they have always been from everlasting, Why then before the Theban war and Troy’s Destruction, have not other poets sung Of other deeds as well? Whither have vanished So many exploits of so many men?
Why are they nowhere blossoming engrafted On the eternal monuments of fame?
But in truth, as I think, this sum of things Is in its youth: the nature of the world Is recent, and began not long ago.
Wherefore even now some arts are being wrought To their last polish, some are still in growth.
Of late many improvements have been made In navigation, and musicians too Have given birth to new melodious sounds.
Also this theory of the nature of things Has been discovered lately, and I myself Have only now been found the very first Able to turn it into our native words.
Nevertheless, if you perchance believe That long ago these things were just the same, But that the generations of mankind Perished by scorching heat, or that their cities Fell in some great convulsion of the world, Or else that flooded by incessant rains Devouring rivers broke forth over the earth And swallowed up whole towns, so much the more Must you admit that there will come to pass A like destruction of earth and heaven too.
For when things were assailed by such great maladies And dangers, if some yet more fatal cause Had whelmed them, they would then have been dissolved In havoc and vast ruin far and wide.
And in no other way do we perceive That we are mortal, save that we all alike In turn fall sick of the same maladies As those whom Nature has withdrawn from life.
Again, whatever things abide eternally, Must either, because they are of solid body, Repulse assaults, nor suffer anything To penetrate them, which might have the power To disunite the close-locked parts within: (Such are those bodies whereof matter is made, Whose nature we have shown before:) or else They must be able to endure throughout All time, because they are exempt from blows, As void is, which abides untouched, nor suffers One whit from any stroke: or else because There is no further space surrounding them, Into which things might as it were depart And be dissolved; even as the sum of sums Is eternal, nor is there any space Outside it, into which its particles Might spring asunder, nor are there other bodies That could strike and dissolve them with strong blows.
But neither, as I have shown, is this world’s nature Solid, since there is void mixed up in things; Nor yet is it like void; nor verily Are atoms lacking that might well collect Out of the infinite, and overwhelm This sum of things with violent hurricane, Or threaten it with some other form of ruin; Nor further is there any want of room And of deep space, into which the world’s walls Might be dispersed abroad; or they may perish Shattered by any other force you will.
Therefore the gates of death are never closed Against sky, sun or earth, or the deep seas; But they stand open, awaiting them with huge Vast-gaping jaws. So you must needs admit That all these likewise once were born: for things Of mortal body could not until now Through infinite past ages have defied The strong powers of immeasurable time.
Again, since the chief members of the world So mightily contend together, stirred By unhallowed civil warfare, see you not That some end may be set to their long strife?
It may be when the sun and every kind Of heat shall have drunk all the moisture up, And gained the mastery they were struggling for, Though they have failed as yet to achieve their aim: