# The Bible of Nature, and Substance of Virtue/The Epicurean Philosophy

THE EPICUREAN PHILOSOPHY.
FROM CREECH'S LUCRETIUS.
Kind Venus, glory of the blest abodes, Parent of Rome, and joy of men and gods; Delight of all, comfort of sea and earth; To whose kind powers all creatures owe their birth. At thy approach, great Goddess, straight remove Whate'er are rough, and enemies to love; The clouds disperse, the winds do swiftly waste, And reverently in murmurs breathe their last: The earth with various art (for thy warm powers That dull mass feels) puts forth her gaudy flowers: For thee doth subtle luxury prepare The choicest stores of earth, of sea, and air, To welcome thee, she comes profusely drest With all the spices of the wanton east; To pleasure thee, e'en lazy luxury toils, The roughest sea puts on smooth looks, and smiles: The well-pleas'd heaven assumes a brighter ray At thy approach, and makes a double day. When first the gentle spring begins t' inspire Melting thoughts, soft wishes, gay desire, And warm Favonius fans the amorous fire; First through the birds the active flame doth move; Who with their mates sit down, and sing, and love; They gratefully their tuneful voice employ At thy approach, the author of their joy. Each beast forgets his rage, and entertains A softer fury, through the flowry plains, Through rapid streams, through woods, and silent groves, With wanton play they run to meet their loves: Whole Nature yields unto your charms, the ways You lead, pursues, and eagerly obeys. Acted by those kind principles you infuse, Each bird and beast endeavors to produce His kind, and the decaying world renews. Thee, Nature's powerful ruler, without whom Nothing that's lovely, nothing gay can come From darksome Chaos' deep and ugly womb;
Thee, now I sing of Nature, I must choose A patron to my verse, be thou my muse; And make my lines, whilst I to Memmius write, Thy choice, thy most deserving favorite: Inspire my breast with an unusual flame, Sprightly as his wit, immortal as his fame. Let war's tumultuous noise and labors cease, Let earth and sea enjoy a solid peace. For 'midst rough wars how can verse smoothly flow, Or 'midst such storms the learned laurel grow? I treat of things abstruse, the deity, The vast and steady motions of the sky; The rise of things, how curious Nature joins The various seed, and in one mass combines The jarring principles: what new supplies Bring nourishment and strength: how she unties The Gordian knot, and the poor compound dies: Of what she makes, to what she breaks the frame, Call'd seeds or principles; though either name We use promiscuously, the thing's the same. For whatsoe'ers divine, must live in peace, In undisturb'd and everlasting ease: Long time men lay opprest with slavish fear, Religion's tyranny did domineer, Which being plac'd in heaven look'd proudly down, And frighted abject spirits with her frown. At length a mighty one of Greece began T' assert the natural liberty of man, By senseless terrors and vain fancies led To slavery; straight the conquer'd Phantoms fled. Not the fam'd stories of the deity, Not all the thunder of the threatening sky Could stop his rising soul; through all he past The strongest bounds that powerful Nature cast; His vigorous and active mind was hurl'd Beyond the flaming limits of this world Into the mighty space, and there did see How things begin, what can, what cannot be; How all must die, all yield to fatal force, What steady limits bound their natural course: He saw all this, and brought it back to us
Wherefore by his success our right we gain, Religion is our subject, and we reign. We knew not yet how is our soul produc'd, Whether with body born, or else infus'd; Whether in death breath'd out into the air, She doth confus'dly mix and perish there; Or through vast shades, and horrid silence go To visit brimstone caves, and pools below Or into beasts retires— These fears, that darkness that o'erspreads our souls, Day can't disperse, but those eternal rules Which from firm premises true reason draws, And a deep insight into Nature's laws. Well, then, let this as the first rule be laid, Nothing was by the gods of nothing made. But this once prov'd, it gives an open way To Nature's secrets, and we walk in day. If nothing can be fertile, what law binds All beings still to generate their own kinds? Why do not all things variously proceed From every thing? what use of similar seed? Why do not birds and fishes rise from earth? And men and trees from water take their birth? Why do not herds and flocks drop down from air? Wild creatures and untam'd spring every where? Nought fixt and constant be, but every year Whole Nature change, and all things all things bear? But now, since constant Nature all things breeds, From matter fitly join'd with proper seeds, Their various shapes, their different properties, Is the plain cause why all from all can't rise. Wherefore 'tis better to conclude there are Many first common bodies every where, Which join'd, as letters words, do things compose, Than that from nothing any thing arose. Wherefore, as nothing Nature's power creates, So death dissolves, but not annihilates: For could the substances of bodies die, They presently would vanish from our eye; And without force dissolving perish all, And silently into their nothing fall:
But now since things from seeds eternal rise, Their parts well join'd and fitted, nothing dies, Unless some force break off the natural ties. Besides, if e'er whatever years prevail, Should wholly perish, and its matter fail, How could the powers of all kind Venus breed A constant race of animals to succeed? Or how the earth eternally supply With proper food each their necessity? For whatsoe'er could into nothing waste That infinite space of time already past Had quite consum'd— But if those bodies which compose this all Could for so many ages past endure, They are immortal, and from death secure, And therefore cannot into nothing fall. For death dissolves alone, he breaks the chain, And scatters things to their first seeds again. And therefore bodies cannot fall to nought, Since one thing still is from another brought By provident Nature; who lets nothing rise, And be, unless from something else that dies. Now, since we have by various reasons taught That nothing rises from, or falls to nought, Lest you dissent, because these seeds must lie Beyond the ken e'en of the sharpest eye; Know, there are bodies which no eye can see, But yet from their effects must grant to be. For first the winds disturb the seas, and tear The stoutest ships, and chase clouds through the air; Sometimes through humble plains their violent course They take, and bear down trees with mighty force. Those numerous odors, too, whose smells delight And please the nose, are all too thin for sight. We view not heat, nor sharpest colds, which wound The tender nerves, nor can we see a sound. Yet these are bodies, for they move the sense, And straight sweet pleasures, or quick pains commence, They shake the nerves; now whatsoe'er doth touch, Or can be touch'd, that must be granted such. Drops hollow stones; and whilst we plough, the share
Grows less; the streets by often treading wear. Besides, none, not the sharpest eye, e'er sees What parts to make things grow by just degrees Nature doth add, nor what she takes away, When age steals softly on, and things decay. Though free from pores and solid, things appear, Yet many reasons prove them to be rare: For drops distil, and subtle moisture creeps Through hardest rocks, and even marble weeps: Juice drawn from food, unto the head doth climb, Then falls to th' feet, and visits every limb: Trees grow, and at due seasons yield their fruit, Because the juice drawn by the laboring root Doth rise i'th' trunk, and through the branches shoot. Lastly, if from four elements all things rose, And all again by death dissolv'd to those; What reason we should rather fondly deem Those principles of things, than things of them? For they alternately are chang'd and show Each other's figure, and their nature too. Blind, wretched man! In what dark paths of strife We walk this little journey of our life! Whilst frugal Nature seeks for only ease, A body free from pains, free from disease, A mind from cares and jealousies at peace. How little is required to maintain The body sound in health and free from pain; No delicates, but such as may supply Contented Nature's thrifty luxury; Yes, underneath a loving myrtle's shade, Just by a purling stream supinely laid, When spring with fragrant flowers the earth hath spread, And sweetest roses grow around our head, Envied by wealth and power, with small expense, We may enjoy the sweet delights of sense. Who ever heard a fever tamer grown In clothes embroider'd o'er, and beds of down, Than in coarse rags? Since, then, such toys as these Contribute nothing to the body's ease, As honor, wealth, and nobleness of blood; 'Tis plain, they likewise do our mind no good.
But now I'll sing, do you attend, how seed Doth move to make, and to dissolve things made. 'Tis certain now no seed to seed adheres, Unmov'd, and fixt; for every thing appears Worn out and wasted by devouring years; Still wasting, till it vanishes away, And yet the mass of things feels no decay. For whence those bodies part, those things grow less, And old, and those do flourish and increase To which they join, thence too they fly away; So things by turns increase, by turns decay; Like racers, bear the lamp of life and live, And their race done, their lamp to others give: And so the mass renews, few years deface One kind, and straight another takes the place. But if you think the seeds can rest and make A change by rest, how great is the mistake! For Nature's fixt, and steady laws decreed That nothing should be chang'd, that nought should breed Without a combination of the seed. And thus without the limbs no sense can rise, It cannot be, before the body is; Because the seeds lie scatter'd every where, In heaven, in earth, and water, flame, and air; Not yet combin'd to make an animal. Nor sense, that guide and governor of all. But now attend, I'll teach thee something new 'Tis strange, but yet 'tis reason, and 'tis true. E'en what we now with greatest ease receive, Seem'd strange at first, and we could scarce believe, And what we wonder at, as years increase, Will seem more plain, and all our wonder cease. For look, the heaven, the stars, the sun, and moon, If on a sudden unto mortals shown, Discover'd now, and never seen before, What could have rais'd the people's wonder more? But now, all cloy'd with these, scarce cast an eye, Or think it worth the pains to view the sky Wherefore, fly no opinion, 'cause 'tis new, But strictly search, and after careful view,
Reject, if false; embrace it, if 'tis true.
First, then, the mind, in which the reason lies, Is part of man, as hands, and feet, and eyes, Are parts of animals; though some have taught, And those philosophers, that sense, and thought Do no particular seat, and part control, But are a vital habit of the whole; In Greek call'd harmony, and that from thence Flows all our reason, life, and thought, and sense; But often when these visible limbs do smart, Brisk joy's still created in some unseen part, And so o'th' contrary, when minds opprest Sink under cares, their bodies are at rest. So, often, whilst the hand or foot complains, The head is vigorous, and free from pains. Beside, when charms of sleep have clos'd our eyes, Languid and void of sense the body lies; Yet even then, some part of mind appears Disturb'd with hope, with joy, and empty fears. Next, then, I must affirm the soul and mind Make up one single Nature closely join'd, But the inferior part, the soul, confin'd To all the limbs, obeys the ruling mind, And moves as that directs; for only that Can of itself rejoice, or fear or hate; Passion and thought belong to that alone, For soul and limbs are capable of none. But, to enlarge the instance more, this proves The mind material too, because it moves, And shakes the limbs, makes them look pale and wan; In short, directs and governs the whole man; All which is done by touch, and whatever touch Are bodies, then the mind and soul are such. Nor can the soul and body, separate, Perceive, or think in their divided state; For the first stroke is by the nerves convey'd, And sense, from the joint motions of both, made. Besides, the body is not born alone, Nor grows, nor lives, when mind and soul are gone.
Now, then, my lovely youth, to let thee know That souls and minds are born and mortal too, (Both words in this dispute express the same:) So that, for instance, when the soul you find Prov'd mortal, think I likewise mean the mind, Since both do make but one, two natures join'd. And first 'tis plain, that souls are born and grow, And all by age decay as bodies do. To prove this truth: In infants, minds appear Infirm and tender as their bodies are: In man, the mind is strong; when age prevails, And the quick vigor of each member fails, The mind's powers too decrease, and waste apace, And grave and reverend folly takes the place: 'Tis likely then the soul and mind must die; Like smoke in air, its scatter'd atoms fly. Sometimes when violent fevers vex the brains, The mind grows mad, and raves with equal pains: Sometimes when dull and death-like lethargy, And lasting sleep sits heavy on the eye, The soul is lull'd; and neither knows, nor hears His friend's kind voice, nor sees the falling tears, Whilst they with pious care about him weep, And strive to rouse him from his death of sleep. Since, then, the limbs' disease affects the mind, That must be mortal too; for still we find By thousand instances diseases wait On death, as the sad messengers of fate. Besides, when wine's quick force hath pierc't the brain, And the brisk heat's diffus'd through every vein, Why do the members all grow dull and weak? The tongue not with its usual swiftness speak? The eye-balls swim, the legs not firm and straight, But bend beneath the body's natural weight; Unmanly quarrels, noise and sobs deface The powers of reason, and usurp their place? How could this be, did not the precious juice Affect the mind itself, and spoil its use? Now things that can be thus disturb'd, that cease From usual actions, by such lets as these, Would die, suppose the force or strokes increase.
And since our minds as well as bodies feel The powers of medicines, that change or heal, They must be mortal, for to change the soul, You must or change the order of the whole; Take off some old, or add some parts anew— Now what's immortal, common sense hath told, Can gain not one new part, nor lose one old; For whatsoever suffers change, unties Its union, is not what it was, but dies: Therefore the mind, or by diseases griev'd, Or by the power of medicines, reliev'd, Shews herself mortal. But if you think the soul, by fate opprest, Can to one limb retire, and leave the rest; That part, where so much soul hath residence, A greater must enjoy, and quicker sense: But since none such appears, 'tis plain it flies
By piece-meal through the air, and therefore dies. But grant, what's false the soul can backward fly, And huddled up within one member lie, Yet this infers the soul's mortality. For what's the difference, if by latest breath Expell'd or huddled up, 'tis crush't to death? Whilst from the limbs the senses steal away, And by degrees the powers of life decay. And since the soul is part, and since it lies Fixt in one certain place, as ears, or eyes; So like as those when from the body gone, Perceive not, nor endure, but perish soon; The mind can't live divided from the whole, The limbs, which seem the vessel of the soul. Again, both soul and body join'd perceive, Exert their natural powers, endure, and live; Nor can the soul without the limbs dispense Her vital powers, nor limbs without the soul have sense: For as the eye grows stiff, and dark, and blind, When torn from off her seat; so soul and mind Lose all their powers, when from the limbs disjoin'd; Because 'tis spread o'er all, and there preserves Her life, by vital union with the nerves.
And if the soul's immortal, if she lives Divided from the body, if perceives, She must enjoy five senses still; for who Can fancy how the soul can live below, Unless 'tis thus endow'd? Thus painters please, And poets too, to draw their souls with these. But as without the soul, nor eye, nor ear, Nor either hand, can touch, or see, or hear; So neither can this soul, this mind perceive, Without these hands, these eyes, these ears, nor live. Besides, our vital sense is spread o'er all; The whole composure makes one animal: So that if sudden violent strokes divide This whole, and cast the parts on either side, The soul and mind too suffer the same fate, And part remains in this, and part in that. Now what can be divided, what can lie And waste in several parts, can likewise die. Besides, were souls immortal, ne'er began, But crept into the limbs to make up man, Why cannot they remember what was done In former times? Why all their memory gone? Now, if the mind's frail powers so far can waste, As to forget those numerous actions past, 'Tis almost dead, and sure can die at last. Well, then, the former soul must needs be dead. And that which now informs us, newly made. But when the body's made, when we begin To view the light, if then the soul crept in, How is it likely it should seem to grow, Increase and flourish, as the members do? No, it would live confin'd to her close cage, With powers as great in infancy, as age. But if they say, that souls expell'd by fate, To other bodies of like kind retreat; Then tell me why, Why doth the wisest soul, When crept into a child, become a fool? Why cannot new-born colts perform the course With equal cunning as a full grown horse? But that the souls are born, increase, and grow, And rise mature, as all their bodies do.
Besides, come tell mo why a soul should grow, And rise mature, as all the members do, If 'twere not born? When feeble age comes on, Why is't in haste, and eager to be gone? What does it fear, it makes such haste away, To be imprison'd in the stinking clay? What doth it fear the aged heap's decay? 'Tis fond to think, that whilst wild beasts beget, Or bear their young, a thousand souls should wait, Expect the falling body, fight and strive, Which first shall enter in, and make it live. But now suppose the soul, when separate, Could live, and think, in a divided state: Yet what is that to us, who are the whole, A frame compos'd of body, join'd with soul? Nay, grant the scatter'd ashes of our urn Be join'd again, and life and sense return: Yet how can that concern us, when 'tis done, Since all the memory of past life is gone? Now we ne'er joy, nor grieve, to think that we Were heretofore, nor what those things will be, Which fram'd from us, the following age shall see. When we revolve, how numerous years have run, How oft the east beheld the rising sun E'er we began, and how the atoms move, How the unthinking seed forever strove; 'Tis probable, and reason's laws allow, These seeds of ours were once combin'd as now; Yet now who minds, who knows his former state? The interim of death, the hand of fate, Or stopt the seeds, or made them all commence Such motions, as destroy'd the former sense. He that is miserable, must perceive Whilst he is so, he then must be and live; But now since death permits to feel no more Those cares, those troubles, which we felt before, It follows too, that when we die again, We need not fear; for he must live, that lives in pain: But now the dead, though they should all return To life again, should grieve no more, nor mourn For evils past, than if they ne'er were born.
For rising beings still the old pursue, And take their place, old die, and frame the new: But nothing sinks to hell, and sulphurous flames, The seeds remain to make the future frames: All which shall yield to fate as well as thou, And things fell heretofore e'en just as now. And still decaying things shall new produce; For life's not given to possess, but use. Besides, what dreadful things in death appear, What tolerable cause for all our fear? What sad, vhat dismal thoughts do bid us weep? Is't not a quiet state, and soft as sleep. The furies, Cerberus, black hell, and flames, Are airy fancies all, mere empty names. But whilst we live, the fear of dreadful pains For wicked deeds, the prison, scourge, and chains, The wheel, the block, the fire, affright the mind, Strike deep, and leave a constant sting behind. Nay, those not felt; the guilty soul presents These dreadful shapes, and still herself torments, Scourges, and stings; nor doth she seem to know An end of these, but fears more fierce below, Eternal all. Thus fancied pains we feel, And live as wretched here, as if in hell. Consider, mighty kings in pomp and state, Fall, and ingloriously submit to fate. Scipio, that scourge of Carthage, now the grave Keeps prisoner, like the meanest common slave. Nay, greatest wits, and poets too, that give Eternity to others, cease to live. Homer, their prince, is nothing now but fame, A lasting, far diffus'd, but empty name. Nay, Epicurus' race of life is run, The man of wit, who other men out-shone, As far as meaner stars the mid-day sun. Then how dar'st thou repine to die, and grieve, Thou meaner soul, thou dead, e'en whilst alive? That sleep'st and dream'st the most of life away: Thy night is full as rational as thy day; Still vext with cares, who never understood The principles of ill, nor use of good.
Our life must once have end, in vain we fly From following fate; e'en now, e'en now we die. He that says, nothing can be known, o'erthrows His own opinion, for he nothing knows, So knows not that: What need of long dispute, These maxims kill themselves, themselves confute. Besides, that seas, that rivers waste and die, And still increase by constant new supply, What need of proofs? This streams themselves do show And in soft murmurs babble as they flow. But lest the mass of waters prove too great, The sum drinks some, to quench his natural heat; And some the winds brush off: with wanton play They dip their wings, and bear some parts away:
Some passes through the earth, diffus'd all o'er, And leaves its salt behind in every pore; For all returns through narrow channels spread, And joins where'er the fountain shews her head; And thence sweet streams in fair meanders play, And through the valleys cut their liquid way; And herbs, and flowers on every side bestow, The fields all smile with flowers where'er they flow. But more, the air through all the mighty frame Is chang'd each hour, we breathe not twice the same: Because as all things waste, the parts must fly To the vast sea of air; they mount on high, And softly wander in the lower sky. Now did not this the wasting thing repair, All had been long ago dissolv'd, all air. Well, then, since all things waste, their vital chain Dissolv'd, how can the frame of air remain? It rises from, and makes up things again. Besides, the sun, that constant spring of light, Still cuts the heaven with streams of shining white, And the decaying old, with new supplies, For every portion of the beam that flies; Nor should we see, but all lie blind in night, Unless new streams flow'd from the spring of light. Again, the strongest rocks, and towers do feel the rage Of powerful time, e'en temples wast by age;
Nor can the gods themselves prolong their date, Change Nature's law, or get reprieve from fate. E'en tombs grow old and waste, by years o'rethrown; Men's graves, before, but now become their own. Lastly, look round, view that vast tract of sky, In whose embrace our earth and waters lie, Whence all things rise, to which they all return. As some discourse, the same both womb and urn; 'Tis surely mortal all: for that which breeds, That which gives birth to other things, or feeds, Must lose some parts; and when those things do cease, It gets some new again, and must increase. But Phœbus gather'd up the scatter'd ray, And brought to heaven again the falling day: Such streams of rays from father Sun still rise, As cherish all with heat, and fill the skies. And fruitful Parent Earth doth justly bear The name of mother, since all rose from her. When both were young, when both in Nature's pride, A lusty bridegroom he, and she the bride. Then men content with the poor easy store That sun and earth bestow'd, they wish no more. Soft acorns were their first and chiefest food, And those red apples that adorn the wood, And make pale winter blush; such Nature bore More numerous then, beside a thousand more, Which all supplied poor man with ample store. When thirsty, then did purling streams invite To satisfy their eager appetite: As now in murmurs loud, the headlong floods Invite the thirsty creatures of the woods. Besides, by night they took their rest in caves, Where little streams roll on with silent waves, They bubble through the stones, and softly creep, As fearful to disturb the nymphs that sleep. Then to renew frail man's decaying race, Or mutual lust did prompt them to embrace. Then strong and swift they did the beasts pursue, Their arms were stones and clubs, and some they slew, And some they fled; from those they fear'd to fight They ran, and ow'd their safety to their flight.
But then no armies fell at once, no plain Grew red, no rivers swell'd with thousands slain; None plough'd the floods, none ship wreck'd made their graves In th' sea, none drank cold death among the waves. Then want, now surfeits bring a hasty death, Our bellies swell so much they stop our breath. Then poisonous herbs, when plucked by chance, did kill, Now pois'ning's grown an art, improved by skill. Then neighbors, by degrees familiar grown, Made leagues, and bonds, and each secur'd his own: And then by signs, and broken words agreed, That they would keep, preserve, defend, and feed Defenceless infants, and the women too, As natural pity prompted them to do. Kind Nature power of framing sounds affords To man, and then convenience taught us words. As infants now, for want of words, devise Expressive signs, they speak with hands and eyes; Their speaking hand the want of words supplies. And then since beasts, and birds, tho' dumb, commence As various voices, as their various sense; How easy was it then for men to frame, And give each different thing a different name? Now for the rise of fire: swift thunder thrown From broken sulphurous clouds, first brought it down; Or the sun first taught them to prepare their meat; Because they had observ'd his quickning heat. But when once gold was found, the powerful ore Saw light, and man gap'd after glittering store; Then wit and beauty were esteem'd no more: But wealth enjoy'd their honor, seiz'd their place, The wise and beauteous how to fortune's ass.
But if men would live up to reason's rules, They would not scrape and cringe to wealthy fools: For 'tis the greatest wealth to live content With little, such the greatest joy present. But wealth and power men often strive to gain, As that could bring them ease, or make a chain To fix unsteady fortune, all in vain.
For often when they climb the tedious way, And now in th' reach of top where honors lay, Quick strokes from envy, as from thunder thrown Tumble the bold aspiring wretches down; They find a grave, who strove to reach a crown. Thus monarchy was lost.——— That sun once set, a thousand little stars Gave a dim light to jealousies and wars, Whilst each among the many sought the throne, And thought no head like his deserv'd the crown. This made them seek for laws, this led their choice To rulers; power was given by public voice. For men worn out, and tir'd by constant strife, At last began to wish an easy life, And so submitted of their own accord To rigid laws, and their elected lord. For when each single man, led on by rage, Grew bloody in revenge, and strove t' engage His enemy; 't was an unpleasant age. Hence men grew weary of continual wars, Which sour'd the sweet of life with constant fears; Because diffusive wrong can spread o'er all, No state secure, nay oft the wrongs recoil, With double force on the contrivers fall: Nor can those men expect to live at ease, Who violate the common bonds of peace. Though now they lie concealed from man and god, They still must fear 'twill sometimes come abroad. Why all do bow to somewhat as divine? Why every nation hath its proper shrine? Why all do temples build, why altars raise? And why all sacrifice on sacred days? How this diffus'd, this lasting fame was spread Of powers above? Whence came that awful dread? In heaven they placed their seat, their stately throne; For there the sun, the stars, and various moon, And day, and night, their constant courses run. And hail, and rain, and through a broken cloud Swift lightning flies, and thunder roars aloud. Unhappy man, who taught, the gods engage In these, that they are subject unto rage,
A curse to their's, to our's and future age. What grief they brought themselves, to us what fears. To poor posterity what sighs, what tears? Alas, what piety! Alas, 'tis none To bend all cover'd to a senseless stone, Lie prostrate, or to visit every shrine, Or with spread arms invoke the powers divine Before their temples; whilst the altar flows With blood of beasts, and we make vows on vows. But sure 'tis piety to view the whole, And search all Nature with a quiet soul. For when we view the heavens, and how the sun, And moon, and stars, their constant courses run; Then doubts, that lay opprest with other cares, Begin to raise their head, and bring new fears. We doubt; what are there gods that rule above, At whose direction the bright stars do move? Why do not tyrants then, and mighty lords, Recall their wicked deeds, and boasting words, And fear that now revenge is surely come? Do not they tremble at approaching doom? Besides, when winds grow high, when storms increase, And scatter warlike navies through the seas; When men for battle arm'd, must now engage A stronger foe, and fight the water's rage: Doth not the trembling general prostrate fall, And beg a calm o' th' gods, or prosperous gale? In vain—The storms drive on, no offering saves; All, shipwreck'd, drink cold death among the waves. And hence we fancy unseen powers in things, Whose force and will such strange confusion brings, And spurns, and overthrows our greatest kings. Again, when earthquakes shake this mighty ball, And tottering cities fall, or seem to fall; What then if men, defenceless men, despise Their own weak selves, and look with anxious eyes For present help, and pity from the skies? What wonder if they think some powers control, And gods with mighty force do rule the whole? Wherefore that darkness, that o'erspreads our souls Day can't disperse, but those eternal rules,
Which from firm premises true reason draws, And a deep insight into Nature's laws. But now to chase these phantoms out of sight By the plain magic of true reason's light. How thunder, storm, and how swift lightning flies, Singeing with fiery wings the wounded skies; Lest superstitious you observe the flame, If those quick fires from lucky quarters came, Or with sad omen fell, and how they burn Through closest stones, and waste, and then return. 'Tis then, the dreadful thunder roars aloud, When fighting winds drive heavy cloud on cloud. But if these bolts were thrown by gods above Or if they were the proper arms of Jove, Why do the daring wicked still provoke, Why still sin on secure from thunder's stroke? Why are not such shot through, and plac'd on high, As sad examples of impiety, That men may sin no more, no more defy? And why doth heedless lightning blast the good, And break his bones, or curdle all his blood? Why good and pious men these bolts endure? And villains live, and see their fall secure! Why do they throw them o'er a desert plain, Why through the empty woods, and toil in vain? Why strike the floods? what mean such bolts as these? What, is't to check the fury of the seas? Besides, why doth he beat the temples down, Those of his fellow gods, and of his own, Why doth he hurt, and break the sacred stone?
This work was published before January 1, 1929, and is in the public domain worldwide because the author died at least 100 years ago.
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