Lucius Seneca - Yale Required Reading - Collected Works (Vol. 2)

Flit round the trackless forests, with liquid notes

Filling the regions along the mellow air,

We see 'tis forthwith manifest to man

How suddenly the risen sun is wont

At such an hour to overspread and clothe

The whole with its own splendour; but the sun's

Warm exhalations and this serene light

Travel not down an empty void; and thus

They are compelled more slowly to advance,

Whilst, as it were, they cleave the waves of air;

Nor one by one travel these particles

Of the warm exhalations, but are all

Entangled and enmassed, whereby at once

Each is restrained by each, and from without

Checked, till compelled more slowly to advance.

But the primordial atoms with their old

Simple solidity, when forth they travel

Along the empty void, all undelayed

By aught outside them there, and they, each one

Being one unit from nature of its parts,

Are borne to that one place on which they strive

Still to lay hold, must then, beyond a doubt,

Outstrip in speed, and be more swiftly borne

Than light of sun, and over regions rush,

Of space much vaster, in the self-same time

The sun's effulgence widens round the sky.

Nor to pursue the atoms one by one,

To see the law whereby each thing goes on.

But some men, ignorant of matter, think,

Opposing this, that not without the gods,

In such adjustment to our human ways,

Can nature change the seasons of the years,

And bring to birth the grains and all of else

To which divine Delight, the guide of life,

Persuades mortality and leads it on,

That, through her artful blandishments of love,

It propagate the generations still,

Lest humankind should perish. When they feign

That gods have stablished all things but for man,

They seem in all ways mightily to lapse

From reason's truth: for ev'n if ne'er I knew

What seeds primordial are, yet would I dare

This to affirm, ev'n from deep judgment based

Upon the ways and conduct of the skies—

This to maintain by many a fact besides—

That in no wise the nature of the world

For us was builded by a power divine—

So great the faults it stands encumbered with:

The which, my Memmius, later on, for thee

We will clear up. Now as to what remains

Concerning motions we'll unfold our thought.

Now is the place, meseems, in these affairs

To prove for thee this too: nothing corporeal

Of its own force can e'er be upward borne,

Or upward go—nor let the bodies of flames

Deceive thee here: for they engendered are

With urge to upwards, taking thus increase,

Whereby grow upwards shining grains and trees,

Though all the weight within them downward bears.

Nor, when the fires will leap from under round

The roofs of houses, and swift flame laps up

Timber and beam, 'tis then to be supposed

They act of own accord, no force beneath

To urge them up. 'Tis thus that blood, discharged

From out our bodies, spurts its jets aloft

And spatters gore. And hast thou never marked

With what a force the water will disgorge

Timber and beam? The deeper, straight and down,

We push them in, and, many though we be,

The more we press with main and toil, the more

The water vomits up and flings them back,

That, more than half their length, they there emerge,

Rebounding. Yet we never doubt, meseems,

That all the weight within them downward bears

Through empty void. Well, in like manner, flames

Ought also to be able, when pressed out,

Through winds of air to rise aloft, even though

The weight within them strive to draw them down.

Hast thou not seen, sweeping so far and high,

The meteors, midnight flambeaus of the sky,

How after them they draw long trails of flame

Wherever Nature gives a thoroughfare?

How stars and constellations drop to earth,

Seest not? Nay, too, the sun from peak of heaven

Sheds round to every quarter its large heat,

And sows the new-ploughed intervales with light:

Thus also sun's heat downward tends to earth.

Athwart the rain thou seest the lightning fly;

Now here, now there, bursting from out the clouds,

The fires dash zig-zag—and that flaming power

Falls likewise down to earth.

In these affairs

We wish thee also well aware of this:

The atoms, as their own weight bears them down

Plumb through the void, at scarce determined times,

In scarce determined places, from their course

Decline a little—call it, so to speak,

Mere changed trend. For were it not their wont

Thuswise to swerve, down would they fall, each one,

Like drops of rain, through the unbottomed void;

And then collisions ne'er could be nor blows

Among the primal elements; and thus

Nature would never have created aught.

But, if perchance be any that believe

The heavier bodies, as more swiftly borne

Plumb down the void, are able from above

To strike the lighter, thus engendering blows

Able to cause those procreant motions, far

From highways of true reason they retire.

For whatsoever through the waters fall,

Or through thin air, must quicken their descent,

Each after its weight—on this account, because

Both bulk of water and the subtle air

By no means can retard each thing alike,

But give more quick before the heavier weight;

But contrariwise the empty void cannot,

On any side, at any time, to aught

Oppose resistance, but will ever yield,

True to its bent of nature. Wherefore all,

With equal speed, though equal not in weight,

Must rush, borne downward through the still inane.

Thus ne'er at all have heavier from above

Been swift to strike the lighter, gendering strokes

Which cause those divers motions, by whose means

Nature transacts her work. And so I say,

The atoms must a little swerve at times—

But only the least, lest we should seem to feign

Motions oblique, and fact refute us there.

For this we see forthwith is manifest:

Whatever the weight, it can't obliquely go,

Down on its headlong journey from above,

At least so far as thou canst mark; but who

Is there can mark by sense that naught can swerve

At all aside from off its road's straight line?

Again, if ev'r all motions are co-linked,

And from the old ever arise the new

In fixed order, and primordial seeds

Produce not by their swerving some new start

Of motion to sunder the covenants of fate,

That cause succeed not cause from everlasting,

Whence this free will for creatures o'er the lands,

Whence is it wrested from the fates,—this will

Whereby we step right forward where desire

Leads each man on, whereby the same we swerve

In motions, not as at some fixed time,

Nor at some fixed line of space, but where

The mind itself has urged? For out of doubt

In these affairs 'tis each man's will itself

That gives the start, and hence throughout our limbs

Incipient motions are diffused. Again,

Dost thou not see, when, at a point of time,

The bars are opened, how the eager strength

Of horses cannot forward break as soon

As pants their mind to do? For it behooves

That all the stock of matter, through the frame,

Be roused, in order that, through every joint,

Aroused, it press and follow mind's desire;

So thus thou seest initial motion's gendered

From out the heart, aye, verily, proceeds

First from the spirit's will, whence at the last

'Tis given forth through joints and body entire.