Again, why is't there goesImpetuous rage with lion's breed morose,And cunning with foxes, and to deer why givenThe ancestral fear and tendency to flee,And why in short do all the rest of traitsEngender from the very start of lifeIn the members and mentality, if notBecause one certain power of mind that cameFrom its own seed and breed waxes the sameAlong with all the body? But were mindImmortal, were it wont to change its bodies,How topsy-turvy would earth's creatures act!The Hyrcan hound would flee the onset oftOf antlered stag, the scurrying hawk would quakeAlong the winds of air at the coming dove,And men would dote, and savage beasts be wise;For false the reasoning of those that sayImmortal mind is changed by change of body-For what is changed dissolves, and therefore dies.For parts are re-disposed and leave their order;Wherefore they must be also capableOf dissolution through the frame at last,That they along with body perish all.But should some say that always souls of menGo into human bodies, I will ask:How can a wise become a dullard soul?And why is never a child's a prudent soul?And the mare's filly why not trained so wellAs sturdy strength of steed? We may be sureThey'll take their refuge in the thought that mindBecomes a weakling in a weakling frame.Yet be this so, 'tis needful to confessThe soul but mortal, since, so altered nowThroughout the frame, it loses the life and senseIt had before. Or how can mind wax strongCoequally with body and attainThe craved flower of life, unless it beThe body's colleague in its origins?Or what's the purport of its going forthFrom aged limbs?- fears it, perhaps, to stay,Pent in a crumbled body? Or lest its house,Outworn by venerable length of days,May topple down upon it? But indeedFor an immortal perils are there none.
Denique cur acris violentia triste leonumseminium sequitur, volpes dolus, et fuga cervos?a patribus datur et [a] patrius pavor incitat artus,et iam cetera de genere hoc cur omnia membrisex ineunte aevo generascunt ingenioque,si non, certa suo quia semine seminioquevis animi pariter crescit cum corpore quoque?quod si inmortalis foret et mutare soleretcorpora, permixtis animantes moribus essent,effugeret canis Hyrcano de semine saepecornigeri incursum cervi tremeretque per aurasaëris accipiter fugiens veniente columba,desiperent homines, saperent fera saecla ferarum.illud enim falsa fertur ratione, quod aiuntinmortalem animam mutato corpore flecti;quod mutatur enim, dissolvitur, interit ergo;traiciuntur enim partes atque ordine migrant;quare dissolui quoque debent posse per artus,denique ut intereant una cum corpore cunctae.sin animas hominum dicent in corpora semperire humana, tamen quaeram cur e sapientistulta queat fieri, nec prudens sit puer ullus,[si non, certa suo quia semine seminioque]nec tam doctus equae pullus quam fortis equi vis.scilicet in tenero tenerascere corpore mentemconfugient. quod si iam fit, fateare necessestmortalem esse animam, quoniam mutata per artustanto opere amittit vitam sensumque priorem.quove modo poterit pariter cum corpore quoqueconfirmata cupitum aetatis tangere floremvis animi, nisi erit consors in origine prima?quidve foras sibi vult membris exire senectis?an metuit conclusa manere in corpore putriet domus aetatis spatio ne fessa vetustoobruat? at non sunt immortali ulla pericla.
Again, at parturitions of the wildAnd at the rites of Love, that souls should standReady hard by seems ludicrous enough-Immortals waiting for their mortal limbsIn numbers innumerable, contending madlyWhich shall be first and chief to enter in!-Unless perchance among the souls there beSuch treaties stablished that the first to comeFlying along, shall enter in the first,And that they make no rivalries of strength!Again, in ether can't exist a tree,Nor clouds in ocean deeps, nor in the fieldsCan fishes live, nor blood in timber be,Nor sap in boulders: fixed and arrangedWhere everything may grow and have its place.Thus nature of mind cannot arise aloneWithout the body, nor exist afarFrom thews and blood. But if 'twere possible,Much rather might this very power of mindBe in the head, the shoulders or the heels,And, born in any part soever, yetIn the same man, in the same vessel abide.But since within this body even of oursStands fixed and appears arranged sureWhere soul and mind can each exist and grow,Deny we must the more that they can haveDuration and birth, wholly outside the frame.For, verily, the mortal to conjoinWith the eternal, and to feign they feelTogether, and can function each with each,Is but to dote: for what can be conceivedOf more unlike, discrepant, ill-assorted,Than something mortal in a union joinedWith an immortal and a secularTo bear the outrageous tempests?Then, again,Whatever abides eternal must indeedEither repel all strokes, because 'tis madeOf solid body, and permit no entranceOf aught with power to sunder from withinThe parts compact- as are those seeds of stuffWhose nature we've exhibited before;Or else be able to endure through timeFor this: because they are from blows exempt,As is the void, the which abides untouched,Unsmit by any stroke; or else becauseThere is no room around, whereto things can,As 'twere, depart in dissolution all,-Even as the sum of sums eternal is,Without or place beyond whereto things mayAsunder fly, or bodies which can smite,And thus dissolve them by the blows of might.
Denique conubia ad Veneris partusque ferarumesse animas praesto deridiculum esse videtur,expectare immortalis mortalia membrainnumero numero certareque praeproperanterinter se quae prima potissimaque insinuetur;si non forte ita sunt animarum foedera pacta,ut quae prima volans advenerit insinueturprima neque inter se contendant viribus hilum.Denique in aethere non arbor, non aequore in altonubes esse queunt nec pisces vivere in arvisnec cruor in lignis neque saxis sucus inesse.certum ac dispositumst ubi quicquid crescat et insit.sic animi natura nequit sine corpore oririsola neque a nervis et sanguine longius esse.quod si posset enim, multo prius ipsa animi visin capite aut umeris aut imis calcibus esseposset et innasci quavis in parte soleret,tandem in eodem homine atque in eodem vase manere.quod quoniam nostro quoque constat corpore certumdispositumque videtur ubi esse et crescere possitsorsum anima atque animus, tanto magis infitiandumtotum posse extra corpus durare genique.quare, corpus ubi interiit, periisse necessestconfiteare animam distractam in corpore toto.quippe etenim mortale aeterno iungere et unaconsentire putare et fungi mutua possedesiperest; quid enim diversius esse putandumstaut magis inter se disiunctum discrepitansque,quam mortale quod est inmortali atque perenniiunctum in concilio saevas tolerare procellas?praeterea quaecumque manent aeterna necessestaut quia sunt solido cum corpore respuere ictusnec penetrare pati sibi quicquam quod queat artasdissociare intus partis, ut materiaicorpora sunt, quorum naturam ostendimus ante,aut ideo durare aetatem posse per omnem,plagarum quia sunt expertia sicut inanest,quod manet intactum neque ab ictu fungitur hilum,aut etiam quia nulla loci sit copia circum,quo quasi res possint discedere dissoluique,sicut summarum summast aeterna, neque extraquis locus est quo diffugiant neque corpora sunt quaepossint incidere et valida dissolvere plaga.
But if perchance the soul's to be adjudgedImmortal, mainly on ground 'tis kept secureIn vital forces- either because there comeNever at all things hostile to its weal,Or else because what come somehow retire,Repelled or ere we feel the harm they work,......For, lo, besides that, when the frame's diseased,Soul sickens too, there cometh, many a time,That which torments it with the things to be,Keeps it in dread, and wearies it with cares;And even when evil acts are of the past,Still gnaw the old transgressions bitterly.Add, too, that frenzy, peculiar to the mind,And that oblivion of the things that were;Add its submergence in the murky wavesOf drowse and torpor.
Quod si forte ideo magis inmortalis habendast,quod vitalibus ab rebus munita tenetur,aut quia non veniunt omnino aliena salutis,aut quia quae veniunt aliqua ratione receduntpulsa prius quam quid noceant sentire queamus,…praeter enim quam quod morbis cum corporis aegret,advenit id quod eam de rebus saepe futurismacerat inque metu male habet curisque fatigat,praeteritisque male admissis peccata remordent.adde furorem animi proprium atque oblivia rerum,adde quod in nigras lethargi mergitur undas.
Therefore death to usIs nothing, nor concerns us in the least,Since nature of mind is mortal evermore.And just as in the ages gone beforeWe felt no touch of ill, when all sides roundTo battle came the Carthaginian host,And the times, shaken by tumultuous war,Under the aery coasts of arching heavenShuddered and trembled, and all humankindDoubted to which the empery should fallBy land and sea, thus when we are no more,When comes that sundering of our body and soulThrough which we're fashioned to a single state,Verily naught to us, us then no more,Can come to pass, naught move our senses then-No, not if earth confounded were with sea,And sea with heaven. But if indeed do feelThe nature of mind and energy of soul,After their severance from this body of ours,Yet nothing 'tis to us who in the bondsAnd wedlock of the soul and body live,Through which we're fashioned to a single state.And, even if time collected after deathThe matter of our frames and set it allAgain in place as now, and if againTo us the light of life were given, O yetThat process too would not concern us aught,When once the self-succession of our senseHas been asunder broken. And now and here,Little enough we're busied with the selvesWe were aforetime, nor, concerning them,Suffer a sore distress. For shouldst thou gazeBackwards across all yesterdays of timeThe immeasurable, thinking how manifoldThe motions of matter are, then couldst thou wellCredit this too: often these very seeds(From which we are to-day) of old were setIn the same order as they are to-day-Yet this we can't to consciousness recallThrough the remembering mind. For there hath beenAn interposed pause of life, and wideHave all the motions wandered everywhereFrom these our senses. For if woe and ailPerchance are toward, then the man to whomThe bane can happen must himself be thereAt that same time. But death precludeth this,Forbidding life to him on whom might crowdSuch irk and care; and granted 'tis to know:Nothing for us there is to dread in death,No wretchedness for him who is no more,The same estate as if ne'er born before,When death immortal hath ta'en the mortal life.
Nil igitur mors est ad nos neque pertinet hilum,quandoquidem natura animi mortalis habetur.et vel ut ante acto nihil tempore sensimus aegri,ad confligendum venientibus undique Poenis,omnia cum belli trepido concussa tumultuhorrida contremuere sub altis aetheris auris,in dubioque fuere utrorum ad regna cadendumomnibus humanis esset terraque marique,sic, ubi non erimus, cum corporis atque animaidiscidium fuerit, quibus e sumus uniter apti,scilicet haud nobis quicquam, qui non erimus tum,accidere omnino poterit sensumque movere,non si terra mari miscebitur et mare caelo.et si iam nostro sentit de corpore postquamdistractast animi natura animaeque potestas,nil tamen est ad nos, qui comptu coniugioquecorporis atque animae consistimus uniter apti.nec, si materiem nostram collegerit aetaspost obitum rursumque redegerit ut sita nunc est,atque iterum nobis fuerint data lumina vitae,pertineat quicquam tamen ad nos id quoque factum,interrupta semel cum sit repetentia nostri.et nunc nil ad nos de nobis attinet, antequi fuimus, [neque] iam de illis nos adficit angor.nam cum respicias inmensi temporis omnepraeteritum spatium, tum motus materiaimultimodi quam sint, facile hoc adcredere possis,semina saepe in eodem, ut nunc sunt, ordine postahaec eadem, quibus e nunc nos sumus, ante fuisse.nec memori tamen id quimus reprehendere mente;inter enim iectast vitai pausa vagequedeerrarunt passim motus ab sensibus omnes.debet enim, misere si forte aegreque futurumst;ipse quoque esse in eo tum tempore, cui male possitaccidere. id quoniam mors eximit, esseque prohibetillum cui possint incommoda conciliari,scire licet nobis nihil esse in morte timendumnec miserum fieri qui non est posse, neque hilumdifferre an nullo fuerit iam tempore natus,mortalem vitam mors cum inmortalis ademit.
Hence, where thou seest a man to grieve becauseWhen dead he rots with body laid away,Or perishes in flames or jaws of beasts,Know well: he rings not true, and that beneathStill works an unseen sting upon his heart,However he deny that he believes.His shall be aught of feeling after death.For he, I fancy, grants not what he says,Nor what that presupposes, and he failsTo pluck himself with all his roots from lifeAnd cast that self away, quite unawaresFeigning that some remainder's left behind.For when in life one pictures to oneselfHis body dead by beasts and vultures torn,He pities his state, dividing not himselfTherefrom, removing not the self enoughFrom the body flung away, imaginingHimself that body, and projecting thereHis own sense, as he stands beside it: henceHe grieves that he is mortal born, nor marksThat in true death there is no second selfAlive and able to sorrow for self destroyed,Or stand lamenting that the self lies thereMangled or burning. For if it an evil isDead to be jerked about by jaw and fangOf the wild brutes, I see not why 'twere notBitter to lie on fires and roast in flames,Or suffocate in honey, and, reclinedOn the smooth oblong of an icy slab,Grow stiff in cold, or sink with load of earthDown-crushing from above.
Proinde ubi se videas hominem indignarier ipsum,post mortem fore ut aut putescat corpore postoaut flammis interfiat malisve ferarum,scire licet non sincerum sonere atque subessecaecum aliquem cordi stimulum, quamvis neget ipsecredere se quemquam sibi sensum in morte futurum;non, ut opinor, enim dat quod promittit et undenec radicitus e vita se tollit et eicit,sed facit esse sui quiddam super inscius ipse.vivus enim sibi cum proponit quisque futurum,corpus uti volucres lacerent in morte feraeque,ipse sui miseret; neque enim se dividit illimnec removet satis a proiecto corpore et illumse fingit sensuque suo contaminat astans.hinc indignatur se mortalem esse creatumnec videt in vera nullum fore morte alium se,qui possit vivus sibi se lugere peremptumstansque iacentem [se] lacerari urive dolere.nam si in morte malumst malis morsuque ferarumtractari, non invenio qui non sit acerbumignibus inpositum calidis torrescere flammisaut in melle situm suffocari atque rigerefrigore, cum summo gelidi cubat aequore saxi,urgerive superne obrutum pondere terrae.
"Thee now no moreThe joyful house and best of wives shall welcome,Nor little sons run up to snatch their kissesAnd touch with silent happiness thy heart.Thou shalt not speed in undertakings more,Nor be the warder of thine own no more.Poor wretch," they say, "one hostile hour hath ta'enWretchedly from thee all life's many guerdons,"But add not, "yet no longer unto theeRemains a remnant of desire for them"If this they only well perceived with mindAnd followed up with maxims, they would freeTheir state of man from anguish and from fear."O even as here thou art, aslumber in death,So shalt thou slumber down the rest of time,Released from every harrying pang. But we,We have bewept thee with insatiate woe,Standing beside whilst on the awful pyreThou wert made ashes; and no day shall takeFor us the eternal sorrow from the breast."But ask the mourner what's the bitternessThat man should waste in an eternal grief,If, after all, the thing's but sleep and rest?For when the soul and frame together are sunkIn slumber, no one then demands his selfOr being. Well, this sleep may be forever,Without desire of any selfhood more,For all it matters unto us asleep.Yet not at all do those primordial germsRoam round our members, at that time, afarFrom their own motions that produce our senses-Since, when he's startled from his sleep, a manCollects his senses. Death is, then, to usMuch less- if there can be a less than thatWhich is itself a nothing: for there comesHard upon death a scattering more greatOf the throng of matter, and no man wakes upOn whom once falls the icy pause of life.This too, O often from the soul men say,Along their couches holding of the cups,With faces shaded by fresh wreaths awry:"Brief is this fruit of joy to paltry man,Soon, soon departed, and thereafter, no,It may not be recalled."- As if, forsooth,It were their prime of evils in great deathTo parch, poor tongues, with thirst and arid drought,Or chafe for any lack.
'Iam iam non domus accipiet te laeta neque uxoroptima, nec dulces occurrent oscula natipraeripere et tacita pectus dulcedine tangent.non poteris factis florentibus esse tuisquepraesidium. misero misere' aiunt 'omnia ademituna dies infesta tibi tot praemia vitae.'illud in his rebus non addunt 'nec tibi earumiam desiderium rerum super insidet una.'quod bene si videant animo dictisque sequantur,dissoluant animi magno se angore metuque.'tu quidem ut es leto sopitus, sic eris aeviquod super est cunctis privatus doloribus aegris;at nos horrifico cinefactum te prope bustoinsatiabiliter deflevimus, aeternumquenulla dies nobis maerorem e pectore demet.'illud ab hoc igitur quaerendum est, quid sit amaritanto opere, ad somnum si res redit atque quietem,cur quisquam aeterno possit tabescere luctu.Hoc etiam faciunt ubi discubuere tenentquepocula saepe homines et inumbrant ora coronis,ex animo ut dicant: 'brevis hic est fructus homullis;iam fuerit neque post umquam revocare licebit.'tam quam in morte mali cum primis hoc sit eorum,quod sitis exurat miseros atque arida torrat,aut aliae cuius desiderium insideat rei.nec sibi enim quisquam tum se vitamque requiret,cum pariter mens et corpus sopita quiescunt;nam licet aeternum per nos sic esse soporem,nec desiderium nostri nos adficit ullum,et tamen haud quaquam nostros tunc illa per artuslonge ab sensiferis primordia motibus errant,cum correptus homo ex somno se colligit ipse.multo igitur mortem minus ad nos esse putandumst,si minus esse potest quam quod nihil esse videmus;maior enim turbae disiectus materiaiconsequitur leto nec quisquam expergitus extat,frigida quem semel est vitai pausa secuta.
Once more, if NatureShould of a sudden send a voice abroad,And her own self inveigh against us so:"Mortal, what hast thou of such grave concernThat thou indulgest in too sickly plaints?Why this bemoaning and beweeping death?For if thy life aforetime and behindTo thee was grateful, and not all thy goodWas heaped as in sieve to flow awayAnd perish unavailingly, why not,Even like a banqueter, depart the halls,Laden with life? why not with mind contentTake now, thou fool, thy unafflicted rest?But if whatever thou enjoyed hath beenLavished and lost, and life is now offence,Why seekest more to add- which in its turnWill perish foully and fall out in vain?O why not rather make an end of life,Of labour? For all I may devise or findTo pleasure thee is nothing: all things areThe same forever. Though not yet thy bodyWrinkles with years, nor yet the frame exhaustsOutworn, still things abide the same, even ifThou goest on to conquer all of timeWith length of days, yea, if thou never diest"-What were our answer, but that Nature hereUrges just suit and in her words lays downTrue cause of action? Yet should one complain,Riper in years and elder, and lament,Poor devil, his death more sorely than is fit,Then would she not, with greater right, on himCry out, inveighing with a voice more shrill:"Off with thy tears, and choke thy whines, buffoon!Thou wrinklest- after thou hast had the sumOf the guerdons of life; yet, since thou cravest everWhat's not at hand, contemning present good,That life has slipped away, unperfectedAnd unavailing unto thee. And now,Or ere thou guessed it, death beside thy headStands- and before thou canst be going homeSated and laden with the goodly feast.But now yield all that's alien to thine age,-Up, with good grace! make room for sons: thou must."Justly, I fancy, would she reason thus,Justly inveigh and gird: since ever the oldOutcrowded by the new gives way, and everThe one thing from the others is repaired.Nor no man is consigned to the abyssOf Tartarus, the black. For stuff must be,That thus the after-generations grow,-Though these, their life completed, follow thee;And thus like thee are generations all-Already fallen, or some time to fall.So one thing from another rises ever;And in fee-simple life is given to none,But unto all mere usufruct.Look back:Nothing to us was all fore-passed eldOf time the eternal, ere we had a birth.And Nature holds this like a mirror upOf time-to-be when we are dead and gone.And what is there so horrible appears?Now what is there so sad about it all?Is't not serener far than any sleep?
Denique si vocem rerum natura repente.mittat et hoc alicui nostrum sic increpet ipsa:'quid tibi tanto operest, mortalis, quod nimis aegrisluctibus indulges? quid mortem congemis ac fles?nam [si] grata fuit tibi vita ante acta priorqueet non omnia pertusum congesta quasi in vascommoda perfluxere atque ingrata interiere;cur non ut plenus vitae conviva recedisaequo animoque capis securam, stulte, quietem?sin ea quae fructus cumque es periere profusavitaque in offensost, cur amplius addere quaeris,rursum quod pereat male et ingratum occidat omne,non potius vitae finem facis atque laboris?nam tibi praeterea quod machiner inveniamque,quod placeat, nihil est; eadem sunt omnia semper.si tibi non annis corpus iam marcet et artusconfecti languent, eadem tamen omnia restant,omnia si perges vivendo vincere saecla,atque etiam potius, si numquam sis moriturus',quid respondemus, nisi iustam intendere litemnaturam et veram verbis exponere causam?grandior hic vero si iam seniorque queraturatque obitum lamentetur miser amplius aequo,non merito inclamet magis et voce increpet acri:'aufer abhinc lacrimas, baratre, et compesce querellas.omnia perfunctus vitai praemia marces;sed quia semper aves quod abest, praesentia temnis,inperfecta tibi elapsast ingrataque vita,et nec opinanti mors ad caput adstitit antequam satur ac plenus possis discedere rerum.nunc aliena tua tamen aetate omnia mitteaequo animoque, age dum, magnis concede necessis?'iure, ut opinor, agat, iure increpet inciletque;cedit enim rerum novitate extrusa vetustassemper, et ex aliis aliud reparare necessest.Nec quisquam in barathrum nec Tartara deditur atra;materies opus est, ut crescant postera saecla;quae tamen omnia te vita perfuncta sequentur;nec minus ergo ante haec quam tu cecidere cadentque.sic alid ex alio numquam desistet oririvitaque mancipio nulli datur, omnibus usu.respice item quam nil ad nos ante acta vetustastemporis aeterni fuerit, quam nascimur ante.hoc igitur speculum nobis natura futuritemporis exponit post mortem denique nostram.numquid ibi horribile apparet, num triste videturquicquam, non omni somno securius exstat?
And, verily, those tortures said to beIn Acheron, the deep, they all are oursHere in this life. No Tantalus, benumbedWith baseless terror, as the fables tell,Fears the huge boulder hanging in the air:But, rather, in life an empty dread of GodsUrges mortality, and each one fearsSuch fall of fortune as may chance to him.Nor eat the vultures into TityusProstrate in Acheron, nor can they find,Forsooth, throughout eternal ages, aughtTo pry around for in that mighty breast.However hugely he extend his bulk-Who hath for outspread limbs not acres nine,But the whole earth- he shall not able beTo bear eternal pain nor furnish foodFrom his own frame forever. But for usA Tityus is he whom vultures rendProstrate in love, whom anxious anguish eats,Whom troubles of any unappeased desiresAsunder rip. We have before our eyesHere in this life also a SisyphusIn him who seeketh of the populaceThe rods, the axes fell, and evermoreRetires a beaten and a gloomy man.For to seek after power- an empty name,Nor given at all- and ever in the searchTo endure a world of toil, O this it isTo shove with shoulder up the hill a stoneWhich yet comes rolling back from off the top,And headlong makes for levels of the plain.Then to be always feeding an ingrate mind,Filling with good things, satisfying never-As do the seasons of the year for us,When they return and bring their progeniesAnd varied charms, and we are never filledWith the fruits of life- O this, I fancy, 'tisTo pour, like those young virgins in the tale,Waters into a sieve, unfilled forever.......Cerberus and Furies, and that Lack of Light......Tartarus, out-belching from his mouth the surgeOf horrible heat- the which are nowhere, norIndeed can be: but in this life is fearOf retributions just and expiationsFor evil acts: the dungeon and the leapFrom that dread rock of infamy, the stripes,The executioners, the oaken rack,The iron plates, bitumen, and the torch.And even though these are absent, yet the mind,With a fore-fearing conscience, plies its goadsAnd burns beneath the lash, nor sees meanwhileWhat terminus of ills, what end of pineCan ever be, and feareth lest the sameBut grow more heavy after death. Of truth,The life of fools is Acheron on earth.
Atque ea ni mirum quae cumque Acherunte profundoprodita sunt esse, in vita sunt omnia nobis.nec miser inpendens magnum timet aëre saxumTantalus, ut famast, cassa formidine torpens;sed magis in vita divom metus urget inanismortalis casumque timent quem cuique ferat fors.nec Tityon volucres ineunt Acherunte iacentemnec quod sub magno scrutentur pectore quicquamperpetuam aetatem possunt reperire profecto.quam libet immani proiectu corporis exstet,qui non sola novem dispessis iugera membrisoptineat, sed qui terrai totius orbem,non tamen aeternum poterit perferre doloremnec praebere cibum proprio de corpore semper.sed Tityos nobis hic est, in amore iacentemquem volucres lacerant atque exest anxius angoraut alia quavis scindunt cuppedine curae.Sisyphus in vita quoque nobis ante oculos est,qui petere a populo fasces saevasque securesimbibit et semper victus tristisque recedit.nam petere imperium, quod inanest nec datur umquam,atque in eo semper durum sufferre laborem,hoc est adverso nixantem trudere montesaxum, quod tamen [e] summo iam vertice rusumvolvitur et plani raptim petit aequora campi.deinde animi ingratam naturam pascere semperatque explere bonis rebus satiareque numquam,quod faciunt nobis annorum tempora, circumcum redeunt fetusque ferunt variosque lepores,nec tamen explemur vitai fructibus umquam,hoc, ut opinor, id est, aevo florente puellasquod memorant laticem pertusum congerere in vas,quod tamen expleri nulla ratione potestur.Cerberus et Furiae iam vero et lucis egestas,Tartarus horriferos eructans faucibus aestus!qui neque sunt usquam nec possunt esse profecto;sed metus in vita poenarum pro male factisest insignibus insignis scelerisque luela,carcer et horribilis de saxo iactus deorsum,verbera carnifices robur pix lammina taedae;quae tamen etsi absunt, at mens sibi conscia factispraemetuens adhibet stimulos torretque flagellis,nec videt interea qui terminus esse malorumpossit nec quae sit poenarum denique finis,atque eadem metuit magis haec ne in morte gravescant.hic Acherusia fit stultorum denique vita.
This also to thy very self sometimesRepeat thou mayst: "Lo, even good Ancus leftThe sunshine with his eyes, in divers thingsA better man than thou, O worthless hind;And many other kings and lords of ruleThereafter have gone under, once who swayedO'er mighty peoples. And he also, he-Who whilom paved a highway down the sea,And gave his legionaries thoroughfareAlong the deep, and taught them how to crossThe pools of brine afoot, and did contemn,Trampling upon it with his cavalry,The bellowings of ocean- poured his soulFrom dying body, as his light was ta'en.And Scipio's son, the thunderbolt of war,Horror of Carthage, gave his bones to earth,Like to the lowliest villein in the house.Add finders-out of sciences and arts;Add comrades of the Heliconian dames,Among whom Homer, sceptered o'er them all,Now lies in slumber sunken with the rest.Then, too, Democritus, when ripened eldAdmonished him his memory waned away,Of own accord offered his head to death.Even Epicurus went, his light of lifeRun out, the man in genius who o'er-toppedThe human race, extinguishing all others,As sun, in ether arisen, all the stars.Wilt thou, then, dally, thou complain to go?-For whom already life's as good as dead,Whilst yet thou livest and lookest?- who in sleepWastest thy life- time's major part, and snorestEven when awake, and ceasest not to seeThe stuff of dreams, and bearest a mind besetBy baseless terror, nor discoverest oftWhat's wrong with thee, when, like a sotted wretch,Thou'rt jostled along by many crowding cares,And wanderest reeling round, with mind aswim."
Hoc etiam tibi tute interdum dicere possis.'lumina sis oculis etiam bonus Ancus reliquit,qui melior multis quam tu fuit, improbe, rebus.inde alii multi reges rerumque potentesocciderunt, magnis qui gentibus imperitarunt.ille quoque ipse, viam qui quondam per mare magnumstravit iterque dedit legionibus ire per altumac pedibus salsas docuit super ire lucunaset contempsit equis insultans murmura ponti,lumine adempto animam moribundo corpore fudit.Scipiadas, belli fulmen, Carthaginis horror,ossa dedit terrae proinde ac famul infimus esset.adde repertores doctrinarum atque leporum,adde Heliconiadum comites; quorum unus Homerussceptra potitus eadem aliis sopitus quietest.denique Democritum post quam matura vetustasadmonuit memores motus languescere mentis,sponte sua leto caput obvius optulit ipse.ipse Epicurus obit decurso lumine vitae,qui genus humanum ingenio superavit et omnisrestinxit stellas exortus ut aetherius sol.tu vero dubitabis et indignabere obire?mortua cui vita est prope iam vivo atque videnti,qui somno partem maiorem conteris aevi,et viligans stertis nec somnia cernere cessassollicitamque geris cassa formidine mentemnec reperire potes tibi quid sit saepe mali, cumebrius urgeris multis miser undique curisatque animo incerto fluitans errore vagaris.'
If men, in that same way as on the mindThey feel the load that wearies with its weight,Could also know the causes whence it comes,And why so great the heap of ill on heart,O not in this sort would they live their life,As now so much we see them, knowing notWhat 'tis they want, and seeking ever and everA change of place, as if to drop the burden.The man who sickens of his home goes out,Forth from his splendid halls, and straight- returns,Feeling i'faith no better off abroad.He races, driving his Gallic ponies along,Down to his villa, madly,- as in hasteTo hurry help to a house afire.- At onceHe yawns, as soon as foot has touched the threshold,Or drowsily goes off in sleep and seeksForgetfulness, or maybe bustles aboutAnd makes for town again. In such a wayEach human flees himself- a self in sooth,As happens, he by no means can escape;And willy-nilly he cleaves to it and loathes,Sick, sick, and guessing not the cause of ail.Yet should he see but that, O chiefly then,Leaving all else, he'd study to divineThe nature of things, since here is in debateEternal time and not the single hour,Mortal's estate in whatsoever remainsAfter great death.
Si possent homines, proinde ac sentire videnturpondus inesse animo, quod se gravitate fatiget,e quibus id fiat causis quoque noscere et undetanta mali tam quam moles in pectore constet,haut ita vitam agerent, ut nunc plerumque videmusquid sibi quisque velit nescire et quaerere semper,commutare locum, quasi onus deponere possit.exit saepe foras magnis ex aedibus ille,esse domi quem pertaesumst, subitoque [revertit],quippe foris nihilo melius qui sentiat esse.currit agens mannos ad villam praecipitanterauxilium tectis quasi ferre ardentibus instans;oscitat extemplo, tetigit cum limina villae,aut abit in somnum gravis atque oblivia quaerit,aut etiam properans urbem petit atque revisit.hoc se quisque modo fugit, at quem scilicet, ut fit,effugere haut potis est: ingratius haeret et oditpropterea, morbi quia causam non tenet aeger;quam bene si videat, iam rebus quisque relictisnaturam primum studeat cognoscere rerum,temporis aeterni quoniam, non unius horae,ambigitur status, in quo sit mortalibus omnisaetas, post mortem quae restat cumque manendo.
And too, when all is said,What evil lust of life is this so greatSubdues us to live, so dreadfully distraughtIn perils and alarms? one fixed endOf life abideth for mortality;Death's not to shun, and we must go to meet.Besides we're busied with the same devices,Ever and ever, and we are at them ever,And there's no new delight that may be forgedBy living on. But whilst the thing we long forIs lacking, that seems good above all else;Thereafter, when we've touched it, something elseWe long for; ever one equal thirst of lifeGrips us agape. And doubtful 'tis what fortuneThe future times may carry, or what beThat chance may bring, or what the issue nextAwaiting us. Nor by prolonging lifeTake we the least away from death's own time,Nor can we pluck one moment off, wherebyTo minish the aeons of our state of death.Therefore, O man, by living on, fulfilAs many generations as thou may:Eternal death shall there be waiting still;And he who died with light of yesterdayShall be no briefer time in death's No-moreThan he who perished months or years before.
Denique tanto opere in dubiis trepidare periclisquae mala nos subigit vitai tanta cupido?certe equidem finis vitae mortalibus adstatnec devitari letum pote, quin obeamus.praeterea versamur ibidem atque insumus usquenec nova vivendo procuditur ulla voluptas;sed dum abest quod avemus, id exsuperare videturcetera; post aliud, cum contigit illud, avemuset sitis aequa tenet vitai semper hiantis.posteraque in dubiost fortunam quam vehat aetas,quidve ferat nobis casus quive exitus instet.nec prorsum vitam ducendo demimus hilumtempore de mortis nec delibare valemus,quo minus esse diu possimus forte perempti.proinde licet quod vis vivendo condere saecla,mors aeterna tamen nihilo minus illa manebit,nec minus ille diu iam non erit, ex hodiernolumine qui finem vitai fecit, et ille,mensibus atque annis qui multis occidit ante.