LUCRETUS (99-55 B.C.)

On the Nature of Things (De rerum natura)
[Man’s Progress from Savagery to Civilization]*

But the race of men at that time was much hardier on the land, as was fitting inasmuch as the hard earth had made it; built up within it was with bones larger and more solid, fitted with strong sinews throughout the flesh, not such as easily to be mastered by heat or cold or strange food or any ailment of the body. Though many luster's of the sun rolling through the sky they passed their lives after the curved plough was there, none knew how to work the fields with iron, to dig new shoots into the ground, to prune off old branches from the tall trees with a sickle. What sun and rain had given, what the earth had produced of her own accord, that was a gift enough to content their minds. Amidst the acorn-laden oaks they refreshed themselves for the most part; and the arbute-berries which in winter time you now see ripen with crimson colour, then the earth bore in abundance and even larger than now. Many another kind of food besides the flowering infancy of the world then produced, hard but amply sufficient for poor mortals. But to quench thirst, rivers and springs invited them, as now the rushing of water down from the great mountains calls loud and far to the thirsting hordes of beast. Next as they roamed abroad they dwelt in familiar woodland precincts of the Nymphs, whence they knew that some running rivulet issued rippling over the wet rocks, rippling over the rocks in abundant flow and dripping upon the green moss, with plenty left to splash and bubble over the level plain. Not yet did they know how to work things with fire, nor to use skins and to clothe themselves in the stripping of beast; but they dwelt in the woods and the forests and mountain caves, and hid their rough bodies in the underwoods when they had to escape the beating of winds and rain. They could not look to the common good, they knew not how to govern their intercourse by custom and law. Whatever price fortune gave to each, that he carried off, every man taught to live and be strong for himself at his own will. And Venus joined the bodies of lovers in the woods; for either the woman was attracted by some mutual desire, or caught by man’s violent force and vehement lust, or by a bribe-acorns and arbute-berries or choice pears. And by the aid of their wonderful powers of hand and foot, they would hunt the woodland tribes of beast with volleys of stones and ponderous clubs, overpowering many, shunning but a few in their lairs; and when night overtook them, like so many bristly hogs they just cast them savage bodies naked upon the ground, rolling themselves in leaves and boughs. Nor did they go seeking the day and the sun with great outery over the countryside, wandering panic-stricken in the sun with rosy torch spread his light over the heavens. For since they had been accustomed from childhood always to see darkness and light return in alternate sequence, it was impossible that they should ever feel wonder, or fear lest everlasting night should possess the world, the sun’s light being withdrawn for ever. Rather what trouble them was that the hordes of beast often made their rest dangerous to them: and driven from their shelter, they would flee to the rocks and caves when a foaming boar appeared or a mighty lion, and at dead of night in terror would yield their leaf-strewn beds to the savage guests...
Next, when they had got them huts and skins, and fire, and woman mated with man was appropriated to one, [and the laws of wedlock] became known, and they saw offspring born to them, then the human race began to grow soft. For the fire saw to it that their shivering bodies were less able to endure cold under the canopy of heaven, and Venus sapped their strength, and children easily broke their parents’ proud spirit by coaxing. Then also neighbor began eagerly to join friendship amongst themselves to do no hurt and suffer no violence, and asked protection for their children and womankind, signifying by voice and gesture with stammering tongue that it was right for all to pity the weak. Nevertheless concord could not altogether be produced, but a good part, nay the most kept the covenant unblemished, or else the race of mankind would have been even then wholly destroyed, nor would birth and begetting have been able to prolong their posterity.
But the various sounds of the tongue nature drove them to utter, and convenience pressed out of them names for things, not far otherwise than very speechlessness is seen to drive children to the use of gesture, when it makes them point with the finger at things that are before them....
That you may not perhaps be quietly asking yourself the question, it was lighting that first brought fire down to the earth for mortals.. and from this all blazing flames have been spread abroad. For we can see many things catch fire touched by the flames from on high, when the stroke from heaven has given them its heat. And yet also when a branching tree struck by the winds, swaying and tossed about, leans on the branches of a tree, fire is pressed out by the great force of the friction, and at times the burning glare of flame flashes while branches and twigs are rubbed together. Either of these causes may have given fire to mankind.
After that, the sun taught them to cook food and to soften it by heat of flames, since they saw many things soften, vanquished by the blows of the heat of his rays amid the fields.
More and more daily they were shown how to change their former life and living for new ways, by those men of goodwill who were pre-eminent in genius and strong in mind. Kings began to found cities and build a citadel for their own protection and refuge; and they divided cattle and lands and gave them to each according to beauty and strength and genus; for beauty had great power, and strength had importance, in those days. Afterwards wealth was introduced and god was discovered, which easily robbed both the strong and the handsome in body, men for the most part follow the party of the richer. But if one should guide his life by true principals, man’s greatest riches is to live on a little with contented mind; for a little is never lacking. Yet men desire to be famous and powerful, that their fortune might stand fast upon a firm foundation, and that being wealthy they might be able to pass a quiet life: all in vain, since in the struggle to climb to the summit of honor they made their path full of danger; and even down from the summit, nevertheless, envy strikes them oftentimes like a thunderbolt and casts them with scorn into loathly Tartarus; since envy, like the thunderbolt, usually scorches the summits and all those that are elevated above others; so that it is indeed much better to obey in peace, than to desire to hold the world in fee and to rule kingdoms. Leave them then to be weary for nought, and the sweat blood in struggling along the narrow path of ambition; since their wisdom comes from the lips of others, and they pursue things on hearsay rather than from their own feelings. And this was in the beginning, as much as it is now and shall be without end.
Kings therefore were slain; the ancient majesty of thrones and proud scepters lay overthrown in the dust; the illustrious badge of the topmost head, bloodstained beneath the feet of the mob, bewailed its lost honor: for men are eager to tread underfoot what they have once too much feared. So things came to the uttermost dregs of confusion, when each man for himself sought dominion and exaltation. Then there were some who taught them to create magistrates, and established law, that they might be willing to obey statutes. For mankind, tired of living in violence, was fainting from its feuds, and so they were readier of their own will to submit to statutes and strict rules of law.
For because each man in his wrath would make ready to avenge himself more severely than is permitted now by just laws, for this reason men were utterly weary of living in violence. Hence comes fear of punishment that taints the prizes of life; for violence and injury enclose in their net all that do such things, and generally return upon him who began, nor is it easy to pass a quiet and peaceful life for him whose deeds violate the bonds of the common peace. For even if he hide it from gods and men, he must yet be uncertain that it will that it will for ever remain hidden; seeing that often many men speaking in dreams or raving in delirium, are said to have discovered themselves, and to have shown abroad both hidden vices and hidden sins.
Next it is not very difficult to explain in words, what cause has spread the divinity of the gods over great nations and filled the cities with altars, and has made customary magnificence and our great places, from which even now remains implanted in mortal men and awe that raises new shrines to the gods all over the world, and drives them to throng together on festal days. The truth is, that even in those days the generations of men used to see with walking mind, and still more in sleep, gods, conspicuous in beauty and of marvelous bodily stature. To these therefore they attributed sensation, because they appeared to move their limbs and to utter proud speech in keeping with their splendid beauty and vast strength. And they gave them everlasting life, because there was always a succession of visions coming up in which the Sharpe remained the same, and because they thought that certainly beings endowed with such strength could not in any case lightly be overcome by any force. Therefore they thought them to be pre-eminent in happiness, because the fear of death troubled none of them, and at the time because in sleep they saw them perform many marvelous feats and felt no distress there from. Besides they observed how the array of heaven and the various seasons of the year came round in due order, and could not discover by what causes all in the hands of the gods, and to suppose that by their nod all things were done. And they placed the gods’ habitation and abode in the sky, because through the sky the night and the moon are seen to revolve, moon and day and night and the solemn stars of night, heaven’s night-wandering torches, clouds and sun, rain and snow, winds, lightings and hail, rapid roarings an threatening throes of thunder.
Copper and gold and iron were discovered, so also heavy silver and massy lead, when fire upon the great mountains had burnt up huge forests with its heat; whether by some lightning stroke from heaven, or because men waging in war in the forests had brought fire upon their foes and to affright them, or because led by the richness of the soil they wished to clear the fat fields and make the place fit for pasturage, or to destroy the wild beasts and to enrich themselves with spoil. For hunting with pit and fire came up, before fencing about a glade with nets or putting up game with dogs. However that may be, whatever the cause by which flaming heat with appalling din had devoured the forests deep down to the roots and parched up the earth with fire, through the hot veins into some hollow place of the earth would ooze and collect a stream of silver and gold , of copper also and lead: and when afterwards they saw these congealed together and gleaming upon the earth with bright colour, they would pick them up captivated by the sleek smooth grace and would see that they were each molded into a shape like the hollows in which they had left their mark. Then it dawned upon they that these lumps might be melted and run into any shape and form of objects, and might furthermore be beaten out with blows into the sharpest and finest possible point or edge, to make themselves tools, to cut down trees, to rough-hew timber and to plane planks and beams, to bore also and to pierce and perforate. And they would try to make these at first no less of silver and gold than of bronze with it’s tough and strong substance, but in vain, since neither the strength of these yielded and bent nor could they so well bear the hard work. Then bronze was of more worth, and gold was thought little of, and gold has mounted to the chief honor. So rolling time changes the seasons of things. What was of worth comes at length to be held in no honor; next something else comes up and comes forth from contempt, is sought for more day by day, and once discovered thieves in praise and is held in wonderful honor among men.
Now it is easy for you, Memmius, to recognize yourself in what manner the nature of iron was discovered. The ancient weapons were hands, nails, and teeth, and stones and branches also broken from forest trees, flames and fire as soon as they were known. Later was discovered the power of iron and of bronze. The use of bronze was known before iron, because it is more easily worked and there is greater store. With bronze men tiled the soil of the earth, with bronze they stirred up the waves of war, and dealt devastating wounds, and seized cattle and lands; for when some were armed, all that was naked and unarmed readily gave way to them. Then by small degrees the sword of iron gained ground, and the fashion of the bronze sickle became a thing of contempt; then with iron they began to break the soil of the earth, and the struggles of war now become doubtful were made equal.
And it is an earlier practice for one to mount on horseback armed, to guide the horse by the bit and to do doughty deeds with the right hand, than to essay the perils of war in a two-horse car. And to yoke a pair came before yoking twice two to the car, and before the armed men mounted the scythed chariot. Next the Lucanian taught by the Carthaginians to endure the wounds of war, and to confound the great hosts of Mars. Thus gloomy Discord bread one thing after another, to be frightful in battle for the nations of men, and added new terror to warfare day by day...
Garments of patchwork came before garments of woven cloth. Woven cloth comes after iron, because iron is needed for equipping the loom, nor without it can such smoothness be given to the heddles and spindles, shuttles and noisy yarn-beams. And nature made men to work in wool before womankind, for the male sex as a whole if far superior in skill and more clever; until the austere farmers made it a reproach, so that the men agreed to leave it in women’s hands and themselves to share in hard labor and by hard work to harden their bodies and hands.
But the pattern of sowing and the beginning of grafting first came from nature herself the maker of all things, since berries and acorns falling from trees in due time produced swarms of seedlings underneath; and this also gave them the whimsy to insert shoots in branches and to plant new slips in the earth all over the fields. Next one after another they tried ways of cultivating the little plot they loved, and found out that the earth could tame wild fruits by kind treatment and friendly tillage. Day by day they made the forests climb higher up the mountains and yield the place below to their tilth, that they might have meadows, pools and streams, crops and luxuriant vineyards on hill and plain, and that a greygreen belt of olives might run between to make the boundaries stretching forth over hills and dales and plains: even as now you see the whole place mapped out with charming variety, laid out and intersected wit sweet fruit-trees and set about with fertile plantation of trees.
Again, to imitate with the mouth the liquid notes of the birds came long before men could delight their ears by warbling smooth carols in song. And the zephyrs whistling through hollow reeds first taught the countrymen to blow into hollow hemlock-stalks. Next, step by step they learnt the plaintive melodies which the reed-pipe gives forth tapped by the players’ fingertips, - the pipe discovered amid pathless woods and forests, amid the solitary haunts of shepherds and the peace of the open air. These soothed their minds and gave them great delight when they had their fill of food: for that is when song is pleasant. Often therefore stretched in groups on the soft grass hard by a stream of water under the branches of a tall tree they made merry at cheap cost, above all when the weather smiled and the season of the year painted the green herbage with flowers. Then was the time for jest, for gossip, for peasant peals of laughter. For then the rustic muse was in its prime; then they would wreathe head and shoulders with woven garlands of flowers, prompted by joyous playfulness, and the would march out moving their limbs out of time and beating mother earth stiffly with stiff foot: from which mirth would arise and pleasant peals of laughter, because all these things being new and wonderful had great vogue. And when wakeful, this was their consolation for sleep, to sing many a long-drawn note and to turn a tune and to run along the tops of the reedpipes with curved lip; whence even now the watchmen keep up the tradition, and they have learnt how to keep various kinds of rhythm, yet for all that they have not more profit in enjoyment than the woodland people had who were born of the soil. For what is ready to hand, unless we have known something more lovely before, gives pre-eminent delight and seems to hold the field, until something found afterwards to be better is wont to spoil all that and to change our taste for anything ancient.

So men grew tired of acorns, so were deserted that old beds strewn with herbage and leaves piled up. The garment also of wild-beast pelt fell into contempt; which I can imagine must have excited such envy in those days when discovered, that he who first wore one was done to death by treachery, and even then that is was torn to pieces amongst them with much bloodshed and was lost and could not be turned to use. Then therefore pelts, now gold and purple trouble men’s life with cares and weary it with war; in which as I think the greater fault rests upon us. For without the pelts cold tormented the naked sons of earth; but we take no harm to be without a vestment of purple or worked with gold and great figures, so long as there is the poor man’s cloak to protect us. Therefore mankind labors always in vain and to no purpose, consuming their days in empty cares, plainly because they know not the limit of possession, and how far it is ever possible for real pleasure to grow: and this little by little has carried life out into the deep sea, and has stirred up from the bottom the great billows of war.
But those watchful sentinels sun and moon, traveling with their light around the great revolving region of heaven, have taught men well that the seasons of the year come round, and that all is done on a fixed plan and in fixed order.
Already men lived fenced in with strong towers, the earth was divided up and distributed for cultivation, already every sea was covered with sail-flying ships, men had already every sea was under formal treaty, when poets began to commemorate doughty deeds in verse; nor had letters been invented long time before. For this reason our age cannot look back upon what happened before, unless is any respect reasoning shows the way.
Ships and agriculture, fortifications and laws, arms, roads, clothing and all else of this kind, life’s prizes, its luxuries also from first to last, poetry and pictures, the shaping of statues by the artist, all these men progressed gradually step by step were taught by practice and the experiments of the active mind. So by degrees time brings up before us every single thing, and reason lifts it into the precincts of light. For their intellect saw one thing after another grow famous amongst the arts, until they came to their highest point.


[Against the Fear of Death]
What has this bugbear death to frighten man,
If souls can die, as well as bodies can?
For, as before our birth we felt no pain,
When Punic arms infested land and main,
When heaven and earth were in confusion hurled,
For the debated empire of the world,
Which aw’d with dreadful expectation lay,
Sure to be slaves, uncertain who should sway:
So, when our mortal frame shall be disjoin’d,
The lifeless lump uncoupled from the mind,
From sense of grief and pain we shall be free;
We shall not feel, because we shall not be.
Tho’ earth in seas, and seas in heav’n were lost,
We should not move, we only should be toss’d.
Nay, ev’n suppose when we have suffer’d fate,
The soul could feel in her divided state,
What’s that to us? for we are only we
While souls and bodies in one frame agree.
Nay, tho’ our atoms should revolve by chance,
And matter leap into the former dance;
Tho’ time our life and motion could restore,
And make our bodies what they were before,
What gain to us would all this bustle bring?
The new-made man would be another thing.
When once an interrupting pause is made,
That individual being is decay’d.
We, who are dead and gone, shall bear no part
In all the pleasures, nor shall feel the smart
Which to that other mortal shall accrue,
Whom of our matter time shall mold anew.
For backward if you look on that long space
Of ages past, and view the changing face
Of matter, toss’d and various combined
In sundry shapes, it is easy for the mind
From thence to’ infer, that seeds of things have been
In the same order as they now are seen:
Which yet our dark remembrance cannot trace,
Because of pause of life, a gaping space,
Has come betwixt, where memory lies dead,
And all the wand’ring motions from the sense are fled.
For whosoe’er shall in misfortunes live,
Must be, when those misfortunes shall arrive;
And since the man who is not, feels not woe,
(For death exempts him, and wards off the blow,
Which we, the living, only feel and bear,)
What is there left for us in death to fear?
When once that pause of life has come between,
"T is just the same as we had never been.
And therefore if a man bemoan his lot,
That after death his moldering limbs shall rot,
Or flames, or jaws of beasts devour his mass,
Know, he’s an insincere, unthinking ass,
A secret sting remains within his mind;
The fool is to his own cast offal’s kind.
He boasts no sense can after death remain,
Yet makes himself a part of life again,
As if some other He could feel the pain.
If, while he live, this thought molest his head,
What wolf or vulture shall devour me dead?
He wastes his days in idle grief, nor can
Distinguish ‘twixt the body and the man’
But thinks himself can still himself survive;
And, what when dead he feels not, feels alive.
Then he repines that he was born to die,
Nor knows in death there is no other He,
No living He remains his grief to vent,
And o’er his senseless carcass to lament.
If after death ‘t is painful to be torn
By birds, and beasts, then why not so to burn;
Or, drenched in floods of honey, to be soaked;
Embalmed, to be at once preserv’d and chok’d;
Or on an airy mountain’s top to lie,
Expos’d to cold and heav’n’s inclemency;
Or crowded in a tomb to be oppress’d
With monumental marble on thy breast?
But to be snatch’d from all thy household joys,
From thy chaste wife, and thy dear prattling boys,
Whose little arms about thy legs are cast,
And climbing for a kiss prevent their mother’s haste,
Inspiring secret pleasure thro’ thy breast-
All these shall be no more: thy friends oppress’d
Thy care and courage now no more shall free;
"Ah! wretch!" thou cry’st, ah! miserable me!
One woeful day sweeps children, friends and wife,
And all the brittle blessings of my life!"
Add one thing more, and all thou say’st is true;
Thy want and wish of them is vanish’d too:
Which, well consider’d, were a quick relief
To all thy vain imaginary grief.
For thou shalt sleep, and never wake again,
And, quitting life, shalt quit thy living pain.
But we, thy friends, shall all those sorrows find,
Which in forgetful death thou leav’st behind:
No time shall dry our tears, nor drive thee from our mind.
The worst that can befall thee, measur’d right,
Is a sound slumber, and a long good-night.
Yet thus the fools, that would be thought the wits,
Disturb their mirth with melancholy fits:
When healths go round, and kindly brimmers flow,
Till the fresh garlands on their foreheads glow,
They whine, and cry: "Let us make haste to live.
Short are the joys that human life can give."
Eternal preachers, that corrupt the draught,
And pall the god, that never thinks, with thought;
Idiots with all that thought, to whom the worst
Of death is want of drink, and endless thirst,
Or any fond desire as vain as these.
For ev’n in sleep, the body, wrapp’d in ease,
Supinely lies, as in the peaceful grave;
And, wanting nothing, nothing can it crave.
Were that sound sleep eternal, it were death;
yet the first atoms then, the seeds of breath,
Are moving near to sense; we do but shake
And rouse that sense, and straight we are awake.
Then death to us, and death’s anxiety,
Is less than nothing, if a less could be.
For then our atoms, which in order lay,
Are scatter’d from their heap, and puff’d away.
And never can return into their place,
When once the pause of life has left an empty space.
And last, suppose great Nature’s voice should call
To thee, or me, or any of us all:
"What dost thou mean, ungrateful wretch, thou vain,
Thou mortal thing, thus idly to complain,
And sigh and sob that thou shalt be no more?
For if thy life were pleasant heretofore,
If all the bounteous blessings, I could give,
Thou hast enjoy’d; if thou hast known to live,
And pleasure not leak’d through’ thee like a sieve;
Why dost thou not give thanks as at a plenteous feast,
Cramm’d to the throat with life, and rise and take thy rest?
But if my blesssings thou hast thrown away.
If indigested joys pass’d through and would not stay,
Why dost thou wish for more to squander still?
If life be grown a load, a real ill,
And I would all thy cares and labors end,
Lay down thy burden, fool, and know thy friend.
To please thee, I have emptied all my store;
I can invent and can supply no more,
But run the round again, the round I ran before.
Suppose thou art not broken yet with years,
Yet still the selfsame scene of things appears,
And would be ever, couldst thou ever live;
For life is still but life, there’s nothing new to give."
What can we plead against so just a bill?
We stand convicted, and our cause goes ill.
But if a wretch, a man oppress’d by fate,
Should beg of Nature to prolong his date,
She speaks aloud to him with more disdain:
"Be still, thou martyr fool, thou covetous of pain."
But if an old decrepit sot lament;
"What, thou, she cries, "who hast outliv’d content!
Dost thou complain, who hast enjoy’d my store?
But this is still th’ effect of wishing more.
Unsatisfied with all that Nature brings;
Loathing the present, liking absent things;
From hence it comes, thy vain desires, at strife
Within themselves, have tantaliz’d thy life;
And ghastly death appear’d before thy sight,
Ere thou hadst gorged thy soul and senses with delight.
Now leave those joys, unsuiting to thy age,
To a fresh comer, and resign the stag ."
Is Nature to be blam’d if thus she chide?
No, sure; for ‘t is her business to provide,
Against this ever-changing frame’s decay,
New things to come, and old to pass away.
One being, worn, another being makes;
Chang’d, but not lost; for Nature gives and takes:
New matter must be found for things to come,
And these must waste like those, and follow Nature’s doom.
All things, like thee, have time to rise and rot;
And from each other’s ruin are begot:
For life is not confin’d to him or thee;
‘T is given to all for use, to none for property.
Consider former ages past and gone,
Whose circles ended long ere thine begun,
Then tell me, fool, what part in them thou hast.
Thus may’st thou judge the future by the past.
What horror see’st thou in that quiet state?
What bugbear dreams to fright thee after fate?
No ghost, no goblins, that still passage keep;
But all is there serene, in that eternal sleep.
For all the dismal tales that poets tell
Are verified on earth, and not in hell.
No Tantalus looks up with fearful eye,
Or dreads th’ impending rock to crush him from on high;
But fear of chance on earth disturbs our easy hours,
Or vain imagin’d wrath of vain imagin’d pow’rs.
No Tityus torn by vultures lies in hell;
Nor could the lobes of his rank liver swell
To that prodigious mass for their eternal meal:
Not tho’ his monstrous bulk had cover’d o’er
Nine spreading acres, or nine thousand more;
Not tho’ the globe of earth had been the giant’s floor:
Nor in eternal torments could he lie,
Nor could his corpse sufficient food supply.
But he’s the Tityus, who by love oppress’d,
Or tyrant passion preying on his breast,
And ever-anxious thoughts, is robb’d of rest.
The Sisyphus is he, whom noise and strife
Seduce from all the soft retreats of life,
To vex the government, disturb the laws"
Drunk with the fumes of popular applause,
He courts the giddy crowd to make him great,
And sweats and toils in vain, to mount the sovereign seat.
For still to aim at pow’, and still to fail,
Ever to strive, and never to prevail,
What is it, but, in reason’s true account,
To heave the stone against the rising mount?
Which urg’d, and labor’d, and forc’d up with pain,
Recoils, and rolls impetuous down, and smokes along the plain.
Then still to treat thy ever-craving mind
With ev’ry blessing, and of ev’ry kind,
Yet never fill thy raving appetite;
Tho’ years and seasons vary thy delight,
Yet nothing to be seen of all the store,
But still the wolf within thee barks for more;
This is the fable’s moral, which they tell
Or fifty foolish virgins damn’d in hell
To leaky vessels, which the liquor spill;
As for the Dog, the Furies, and their snakes,
The gloomy caverns, and the burning lakes,
And all the vain infernal trupery,
They neither are, nor were, no e’er can be.
But here one earth the guilty have in view
The mighty pains to mighty mischiefs due;
Racks, prisons, poisons, the Tarpeian rock,
Stripes, hangmen, pitch, and suffocating smoke;
And last, and most, if these were cast behind,
Th’ avenging horror of a conscious mind,
Whose deadly fear anticipates the blow,
And sees no end of punishment and woe;
But looks for more, at the last gasp of breath:
This makes a hell on earth, and life a death.
Meantime, when thoughts of death disturb thy head;
Consider, Ancus, great and good, is dead;
Ancus, thy better far, was born to die;
And thou, dost thou bewail mortality?
So many monarchs with their mighty state,
Who rul’d the world, were overrul’d by fate.
That haughty king, who lorded o’er the main,
And whose stupendous bridge did the wild waves restrain,
(In vain they foam’d, in vain they threaten’d wreck,
While his proud legions march’d upon their back,)
Him death, a greater monarch, overcame;
Nor spared his guards the more, for their immortal name.
The Roman chief, the Carthaginian dread,
Scipio, the thunderbolt of war, is dead,
And, like a common slave, by fate in triump led.
The founders of invented arts are lost;
And wits, who made eternity their boast.
Where now is Homer, who possess’d the throne?
The’ immortal work remains, the mortal author’s gone.
Democritus, perceiving age invade,
His body weaken’d, and his mind decay’d,
Obey’d the summons with a cheerful face;
Made haste to welcome death, and met him half the race.
That stroke ev’n Epicurus could not bar,
Tho’ he in wit surpass’d mankind, as far
As does the midday sun the midnight star.
And thou, dost thou disdain to yield thy breath,
Whose very life is little more than death?
More than one half by lazy sleep possess’d;
And when awake, thy soul but nods at best,
Day-dreams and sickly thoughts revolving in thy breast.
Eternal troubles haunt thy anxious mind,
Whose cause and cure thou never hop’st to find;
But still uncertain, with thyself at strife,
Thou wander’st in the labyrinth of life.
O, if the foolish race of man, who find
A weight of cares still pressing on their mind,
Could find as well the cause of the unrest,
And all this burden lodge’d within the breast;
Sure they would change their course, nor live as now,
Uncertain what to wish or what to vow.
Uneasy both in country and in town,
They search a place to lay their burden down.
One, restless in his palace, walks abroad,
And vainly thinks to leave behind the load;
But straight returns, for he’s as restless there,
And finds there’s no relief in open air.
Another to his villa would retire,
And spurs as hard as if it were on fire;
So sooner enter’d at his country door,
But he begins to stretch, and yawn, and snore;
Or seeks the city which he left before.
Thus every man o’erworks his weary will,
To shun himself, and to shake off his ill’
The shaking fit returns, and hangs upon him still.
No prospect of repose, nor hope of ease;
The wretch is ignorant of his disease;
Which known would all his fruitless trouble spare,
For he would know the world not worth his care;
Then would he search more deeply for the cause;
And study nature well, and nature’s laws:
For in this moment lies not the debate,
But our future, fix’d, eternal state;
That never-changing state, which all must keep,
Whom death has doom’d to everlasting sleep.
Why are we then so fond of mortal life,
Beset with dangers, and maintain’d with strife?
A life which all our care can never save;
One fate attends us, and one common grave.
Besides, we tread but a perpetual round;
We ne’er strike out, but beat the former ground,
And the same mawkish joys in the same track are found.
For still we think an absent blessing best,
Which cloys, and is no blessing when possess’d;
A new arising with expels it from the breast.
The fev’rish thirst of life increases still;
We call for more and more, and never have our fill,
Yet know not what tomorrow we shall try,
What dregs of life in the last draught may lie:
Nor, by the longest life we can attain,
One moment from the length of death we gain;
For all behind belongs to his eternal reign.
When once the Fates have cut their mortal thread,
The man as much to all intents is dead,
Who dies to-day, and will as long be so,
As he who died a thousand years ago.




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