Formation of the World and Astronomical Questions
But in what modes that conflux of first-stuffDid found the multitudinous universeOf earth, and sky, and the unfathomed deepsOf ocean, and courses of the sun and moon,I’ll now in order tell. For of a truthNeither by counsel did the primal germs‘Stablish themselves, as by keen act of mind,Each in its proper place; nor did they make,Forsooth, a compact how each germ should move;But, lo, because primordials of things,Many in many modes, astir by blowsFrom immemorial aeons, in motion tooBy their own weights, have evermore been wontTo be so borne along and in all modesTo meet together and to try all sortsWhich, by combining one with other, theyAre powerful to create: because of thisIt comes to pass that those primordials,Diffused far and wide through mighty aeons,The while they unions try, and motions too,Of every kind, meet at the last amain,And so become oft the commencements fitOf mighty things—earth, sea, and sky, and raceOf living creatures.
In that long-agoThe wheel of the sun could nowhere be discernedFlying far up with its abounding blaze,Nor constellations of the mighty world,Nor ocean, nor heaven, nor even earth nor air.Nor aught of things like unto things of oursCould then be seen—but only some strange stormAnd a prodigious hurly-burly massCompounded of all kinds of primal germs,Whose battling discords in disorder keptInterstices, and paths, coherencies,And weights, and blows, encounterings, and motions,Because, by reason of their forms unlikeAnd varied shapes, they could not all thuswiseRemain conjoined nor harmoniouslyHave interplay of movements. But from therePortions began to fly asunder, and likeWith like to join, and to block out a world,And to divide its members and disposeIts mightier parts—that is, to set secureThe lofty heavens from the lands, and causeThe sea to spread with waters separate,And fires of ether separate and pureLikewise to congregate apart.
For, lo,First came together the earthy particles(As being heavy and intertangled) thereIn the mid-region, and all began to takeThe lowest abodes; and ever the more they gotOne with another intertangled, the moreThey pressed from out their mass those particlesWhich were to form the sea, the stars, the sun,And moon, and ramparts of the mighty world—For these consist of seeds more smooth and roundAnd of much smaller elements than earth.And thus it was that ether, fraught with fire,First broke away from out the earthen parts,Athrough the innumerable pores of earth,And raised itself aloft, and with itselfBore lightly off the many starry fires;And not far otherwise we often see
And the still lakes and the perennial streamsExhale a mist, and even as earth herselfIs seen at times to smoke, when first at dawnThe light of the sun, the many-rayed, beginsTo redden into gold, over the grassBegemmed with dew. When all of these are broughtTogether overhead, the clouds on highWith now concreted body weave a coverBeneath the heavens. And thuswise ether too,Light and diffusive, with concreted bodyOn all sides spread, on all sides bent itselfInto a dome, and, far and wide diffusedOn unto every region on all sides,Thus hedged all else within its greedy clasp.Hard upon ether came the originsOf sun and moon, whose globes revolve in airMidway between the earth and mightiest ether,—For neither took them, since they weighed too littleTo sink and settle, but too much to glideAlong the upmost shores; and yet they areIn such a wise midway between the twainAs ever to whirl their living bodies round,And ever to dure as parts of the wide Whole;In the same fashion as certain members mayIn us remain at rest, whilst others move.When, then, these substances had been withdrawn,Amain the earth, where now extend the vastCerulean zones of all the level seas,Caved in, and down along the hollows pouredThe whirlpools of her brine; and day by dayThe more the tides of ether and rays of sunOn every side constrained into one massThe earth by lashing it again, again,Upon its outer edges (so that then,Being thus beat upon, ’twas all condensedAbout its proper centre), ever the moreThe salty sweat, from out its body squeezed,Augmented ocean and the fields of foamBy seeping through its frame, and all the moreThose many particles of heat and airEscaping, began to fly aloft, and form,By condensation there afar from earth,The high refulgent circuits of the heavens.The plains began to sink, and windy slopesOf the high mountains to increase; for rocksCould not subside, nor all the parts of groundSettle alike to one same level there.
Thus, then, the massy weight of earth stood firmWith now concreted body, when (as ‘twere)All of the slime of the world, heavy and gross,Had run together and settled at the bottom,Like lees or bilge. Then ocean, then the air,Then ether herself, the fraught-with-fire, were allLeft with their liquid bodies pure and free,And each more lighter than the next below;And ether, most light and liquid of the three,Floats on above the long aerial winds,Nor with the brawling of the winds of airMingles its liquid body. It doth leaveAll there—those under-realms below her heights—There to be overset in whirlwinds wild,—Doth leave all there to brawl in wayward gusts,Whilst, gliding with a fixed impulse still,Itself it bears its fires along. For, lo,That ether can flow thus steadily on, on,With one unaltered urge, the Pontus proves—That sea which floweth forth with fixed tides,Keeping one onward tenor as it glides.
And that the earth may there abide at restIn the mid-region of the world, it needsMust vanish bit by bit in weight and lessen,And have another substance underneath,Conjoined to it from its earliest ageIn linked unison with the vasty world’sRealms of the air in which it roots and lives.On this account, the earth is not a load,Nor presses down on winds of air beneath;Even as unto a man his members beWithout all weight—the head is not a loadUnto the neck; nor do we feel the wholeWeight of the body to centre in the feet.But whatso weights come on us from without,Weights laid upon us, these harass and chafe,Though often far lighter. For to such degreeIt matters always what the innate powersOf any given thing may be. The earthWas, then, no alien substance fetched amain,And from no alien firmament cast downOn alien air; but was conceived, like air,In the first origin of this the world,As a fixed portion of the same, as nowOur members are seen to be a part of us.
Besides, the earth, when of a sudden shookBy the big thunder, doth with her motion shakeAll that’s above her—which she ne’er could doBy any means, were earth not bounden fastUnto the great world’s realms of air and sky:For they cohere together with common roots,Conjoined both, even from their earliest age,In linked unison. Aye, seest thou notThat this most subtle energy of soulSupports our body, though so heavy a weight,—Because, indeed, ’tis with it so conjoinedIn linked unison? What power, in sum,Can raise with agile leap our body aloft,Save energy of mind which steers the limbs?Now seest thou not how powerful may beA subtle nature, when conjoined it isWith heavy body, as air is with the earthConjoined, and energy of mind with us?
Now let us sing what makes the stars to move.In first place, if the mighty sphere of heavenRevolveth round, then needs we must averThat on the upper and the under polePresses a certain air, and from withoutConfines them and encloseth at each end;And that, moreover, another air aboveStreams on athwart the top of the sphere and tendsIn same direction as are rolled alongThe glittering stars of the eternal world;Or that another still streams on belowTo whirl the sphere from under up and onIn opposite direction—as we seeThe rivers turn the wheels and water-scoops.It may be also that the heavens do allRemain at rest, whilst yet are borne alongThe lucid constellations; either becauseSwift tides of ether are by sky enclosed,And whirl around, seeking a passage out,And everywhere make roll the starry firesThrough the Summanian regions of the sky;Or else because some air, streaming alongFrom an eternal quarter off beyond,Whileth the driven fires, or, then, becauseThe fires themselves have power to creep along,Going wherever their food invites and calls,And feeding their flaming bodies everywhereThroughout the sky. Yet which of these is causeIn this our world ’tis hard to say for sure;But what can be throughout the universe,In divers worlds on divers plan create,This only do I show, and follow onTo assign unto the motions of the starsEven several causes which ’tis possibleExist throughout the universal All;Of which yet one must be the cause even hereWhich maketh motion for our constellations.Yet to decide which one of them it beIs not the least the business of a manAdvancing step by cautious step, as I.
Nor can the sun’s wheel larger be by muchNor its own blaze much less than either seemsUnto our senses. For from whatso spacesFires have the power on us to cast their beamsAnd blow their scorching exhalations forthAgainst our members, those same distancesTake nothing by those intervals awayFrom bulk of flames; and to the sight the fireIs nothing shrunken. Therefore, since the heatAnd the outpoured light of skiey sunArrive our senses and caress our limbs,Form too and bigness of the sun must lookEven here from earth just as they really be,So that thou canst scarce nothing take or add.And whether the journeying moon illuminateThe regions round with bastard beams, or throwFrom off her proper body her own light,—Whichever it be, she journeys with a formNaught larger than the form doth seem to beWhich we with eyes of ours perceive. For allThe far removed objects of our gazeSeem through much air confused in their lookEre minished in their bigness. Wherefore, moon,Since she presents bright look and clear-cut form,May there on high by us on earth be seenJust as she is with extreme bounds defined,And just of the size. And lastly, whatso firesOf ether thou from earth beholdest, theseThou mayst consider as possibly of sizeThe least bit less, or larger by a hairThan they appear—since whatso fires we viewHere in the lands of earth are seen to changeFrom time to time their size to less or moreOnly the least, when more or less away,So long as still they bicker clear, and stillTheir glow’s perceived.
Nor need there be for menAstonishment that yonder sun so smallCan yet send forth so great a light as fillsOceans and all the lands and sky aflood,And with its fiery exhalations steepsThe world at large. For it may be, indeed,That one vast-flowing well-spring of the wholeWide world from here hath opened and out-gushed,And shot its light abroad; because thuswiseThe elements of fiery exhalationsFrom all the world around together come,And thuswise flow into a bulk so bigThat from one single fountain-head may streamThis heat and light. And seest thou not, indeed,How widely one small water-spring may wetThe meadow-lands at times and flood the fields?’Tis even possible, besides, that heatFrom forth the sun’s own fire, albeit that fireBe not a great, may permeate the airWith the fierce hot—if but, perchance, the airBe of condition and so tempered thenAs to be kindled, even when beat uponOnly by little particles of heat—Just as we sometimes see the standing grainOr stubble straw in conflagration allFrom one lone spark. And possibly the sun,Agleam on high with rosy lampion,Possesses about him with invisible heatsA plenteous fire, by no effulgence marked,So that he maketh, he, the Fraught-with-fire,Increase to such degree the force of rays.
Nor is there one sure cause revealed to menHow the sun journeys from his summer hauntsOn to the mid-most winter turning-pointsIn Capricorn, the thence reverting veersBack to solstitial goals of Cancer; norHow ’tis the moon is seen each month to crossThat very distance which in traversingThe sun consumes the measure of a year.I say, no one clear reason hath been givenFor these affairs. Yet chief in likelihoodSeemeth the doctrine which the holy thoughtOf great Democritus lays down: that everThe nearer the constellations be to earthThe less can they by whirling of the skyBe borne along, because those skiey powersOf speed aloft do vanish and decreaseIn under-regions, and the sun is thusLeft by degrees behind amongst those signsThat follow after, since the sun he liesFar down below the starry signs that blaze;And the moon lags even tardier than the sun:In just so far as is her course removedFrom upper heaven and nigh unto the lands,In just so far she fails to keep the paceWith starry signs above; for just so farAs feebler is the whirl that bears her on,(Being, indeed, still lower than the sun),In just so far do all the starry signs,Circling around, o’ertake her and o’erpass.Therefore it happens that the moon appearsMore swiftly to return to any signAlong the Zodiac, than doth the sun,Because those signs do visit her againMore swiftly than they visit the great sun.It can be also that two streams of airAlternately at fixed periodsBlow out from transverse regions of the world,Of which the one may thrust the sun awayFrom summer-signs to mid-most winter goalsAnd rigors of the cold, and the other thenMay cast him back from icy shades of chillEven to the heat-fraught regions and the signsThat blaze along the Zodiac. So, too,We must suppose the moon and all the stars,Which through the mighty and sidereal yearsRoll round in mighty orbits, may be spedBy streams of air from regions alternate.Seest thou not also how the clouds be spedBy contrary winds to regions contrary,The lower clouds diversely from the upper?Then, why may yonder stars in ether thereAlong their mighty orbits not be borneBy currents opposite the one to other?
But night o’erwhelms the lands with vasty murkEither when sun, after his diurnal course,Hath walked the ultimate regions of the skyAnd wearily hath panted forth his fires,Shivered by their long journeying and wastedBy traversing the multitudinous air,Or else because the self-same force that draveHis orb along above the lands compelsHim then to turn his course beneath the lands.Matuta also at a fixed hourSpreadeth the roseate morning out alongThe coasts of heaven and deploys the light,Either because the self-same sun, returningUnder the lands, aspires to seize the sky,Striving to set it blazing with his raysEre he himself appear, or else becauseFires then will congregate and many seedsOf heat are wont, even at a fixed time,To stream together—gendering evermoreNew suns and light. Just so the story goesThat from the Idaean mountain-tops are seenDispersed fires upon the break of dayWhich thence combine, as ‘twere, into one ballAnd form an orb. Nor yet in these affairsIs aught for wonder that these seeds of fireCan thus together stream at time so fixedAnd shape anew the splendour of the sun.For many facts we see which come to passAt fixed time in all things: burgeon shrubsAt fixed time, and at a fixed timeThey cast their flowers; and Eld commands the teeth,At time as surely fixed, to drop away,And Youth commands the growing boy to bloomWith the soft down and let from both his cheeksThe soft beard fall. And lastly, thunder-bolts,Snow, rains, clouds, winds, at seasons of the yearNowise unfixed, all do come to pass.For where, even from their old primordial startCauses have ever worked in such a way,And where, even from the world’s first origin,Thuswise have things befallen, so even nowAfter a fixed order they come roundIn sequence also.
Likewise, days may waxWhilst the nights wane, and daylight minished beWhilst nights do take their augmentations,Either because the self-same sun, coursingUnder the lands and over in two arcs,A longer and a briefer, doth dispartThe coasts of ether and divides in twainHis orbit all unequally, and adds,As round he’s borne, unto the one half thereAs much as from the other half he’s ta’en,Until he then arrives that sign of heavenWhere the year’s node renders the shades of nightEqual unto the periods of light.For when the sun is midway on his courseBetween the blasts of northwind and of south,Heaven keeps his two goals parted equally,By virtue of the fixed position oldOf the whole starry Zodiac, through whichThat sun, in winding onward, takes a year,Illumining the sky and all the landsWith oblique light—as men declare to usWho by their diagrams have charted wellThose regions of the sky which be adornedWith the arranged signs of Zodiac.Or else, because in certain parts the airUnder the lands is denser, the tremulousBright beams of fire do waver tardily,Nor easily can penetrate that airNor yet emerge unto their rising-place:For this it is that nights in winter timeDo linger long, ere comes the many-rayedRound Badge of the day. Or else because, as said,In alternating seasons of the yearFires, now more quick, and now more slow, are wontTo stream together,—the fires which make the sunTo rise in some one spot—therefore it isThat those men seem to speak the truth [who holdA new sun is with each new daybreak born].
The moon she possibly doth shine becauseStrook by the rays of sun, and day by dayMay turn unto our gaze her light, the moreShe doth recede from orb of sun, until,Facing him opposite across the world,She hath with full effulgence gleamed abroad,And, at her rising as she soars above,Hath there observed his setting; thence likewiseShe needs must hide, as ‘twere, her light behindBy slow degrees, the nearer now she glides,Along the circle of the Zodiac,From her far place toward fires of yonder sun,—As those men hold who feign the moon to beJust like a ball and to pursue a courseBetwixt the sun and earth. There is, again,Some reason to suppose that moon may rollWith light her very own, and thus displayThe varied shapes of her resplendence there.For near her is, percase, another body,Invisible, because devoid of light,Borne on and gliding all along with her,Which in three modes may block and blot her disk.Again, she may revolve upon herself,Like to a ball’s sphere—if perchance that be—One half of her dyed o’er with glowing light,And by the revolution of that sphereShe may beget for us her varying shapes,Until she turns that fiery part of herFull to the sight and open eyes of men;Thence by slow stages round and back she whirls,Withdrawing thus the luminiferous partOf her sphered mass and ball, as, verily,The Babylonian doctrine of Chaldees,Refuting the art of Greek astrologers,Labours, in opposition, to prove sure—As if, forsooth, the thing for which each fights,Might not alike be true,—or aught there wereWherefore thou mightest risk embracing oneMore than the other notion. Then, again,Why a new moon might not forevermoreCreated be with fixed successions thereOf shapes and with configurations fixed,And why each day that bright created moonMight not miscarry and another be,In its stead and place, engendered anew,’Tis hard to show by reason, or by wordsTo prove absurd—since, lo, so many thingsCan be create with fixed successions:Spring-time and Venus come, and Venus’ boy,The winged harbinger, steps on before,And hard on Zephyr’s foot-prints Mother Flora,Sprinkling the ways before them, filleth allWith colours and with odours excellent;Whereafter follows arid Heat, and heCompanioned is by Ceres, dusty one,And by the Etesian Breezes of the north;Then cometh Autumn on, and with him stepsLord Bacchus, and then other Seasons tooAnd other Winds do follow—the high roarOf great Volturnus, and the Southwind strongWith thunder-bolts. At last earth’s Shortest-DayBears on to men the snows and brings againThe numbing cold. And Winter follows her,His teeth with chills a-chatter. Therefore, ’tisThe less a marvel, if at fixed timeA moon is thus begotten and againAt fixed time destroyed, since things so manyCan come to being thus at fixed time.Likewise, the sun’s eclipses and the moon’sFar occultations rightly thou mayst deem
As due to several causes. For, indeed,Why should the moon be able to shut outEarth from the light of sun, and on the sideTo earthward thrust her high head under sun,Opposing dark orb to his glowing beams—And yet, at same time, one suppose the effectCould not result from some one other bodyWhich glides devoid of light forevermore?Again, why could not sun, in weakened state,At fixed time for-lose his fires, and then,When he has passed on along the airBeyond the regions, hostile to his flames,That quench and kill his fires, why could not heRenew his light? And why should earth in turnHave power to rob the moon of light, and there,Herself on high, keep the sun hid beneath,Whilst the moon glideth in her monthly courseAthrough the rigid shadows of the cone?—And yet, at same time, some one other bodyNot have the power to under-pass the moon,Or glide along above the orb of sun,Breaking his rays and outspread light asunder?And still, if moon herself refulgent beWith her own sheen, why could she not at timesIn some one quarter of the mighty worldGrow weak and weary, whilst she passeth throughRegions unfriendly to the beams her own?