Various scholars have translated the “De rerum natura” over the years. I found two versions to be thought-provoking and rewarding: by A.E. Stallings (Penguin Classics, 2007) and Frank O. Copley (W.W. Norton, 1977).
Both are very different in their approaches. While Copley sticks as much as possible to literal forms and strict English iambic pentameter from the Latin hexameter, Stallings stretches her imagination in rhyme. She translates not only the words but also the meanings and images Lucretius wishes to convey, and she does so poetically.
There’s plenty of seafaring imagery for naval enthusiasts since both Greek Epicurus and Roman Lucretius lived in a time of wind-powered navies, sailors, and fleets.
Lucretius writes of storms at sea, ocean tides, narrow straits, and shipwrecks, either directly or as metaphors as he explores the nature of the universe, human evolution, and the physical interactions of earth, wind, water, and fire, not to mention the nature of the sun and the moon. He has some insights about perception and about ships and sailors at sea.
The scudding ship on which we sail seems to be standing fast,
While yet a craft at anchor will appear to sail on past.
And it is, rather, hills and fields that seem sternwards to fly
When really the ship is rowing, or under sail goes skimming by.
The stars all seem to be at rest, nailed in the vaults of heaven,
But are perpetually in motion, since once they have arisen,
Returning to their setting place, on far-flung paths they go
Across the sky from end to end, with bodies all aglow.
The sun and moon seem likewise to be frozen still, but prove
On observation, actually, to both be on the move.
From far off, mountains jutting from the middle of the sea
With space enough between for fleets to pass through easily,
Seem nevertheless to be linked up into a single isle.
Dizzy children think the columns in a peristyle
Are going round, and that the entire court is in a spin,
Once they themselves stop turning, so that they almost begin
To believe the house threatens to tumble in about their ears.
And then, when first above the tops of mountains Nature rears
The beaming sun all red with flickering flames, the sun appears
To be so close it’s singeing them with fire. Those mountains are
Perhaps two thousand arrow-shots away from us –– not far ––
Maybe even as close as a mere five hundred javelin-casts.
And yet between the mountains and the sun there lies a vast
Expanse of ocean strewn beneath the sweeping shores of heaven,
And also myriads of countries stretching in between
Peopled by the sundry tribes of animals and men.
And yet puddles of water that upon a paved street linger
Between the cobblestones, although no deeper than a finger,
Offer us a downward glimpse into the earth as deep
As the yawn of heaven overhead is towering and steep,
So that it seems you’re peering down into the cloudy skies,
Or you behold a moon and stars – you can’t believe your eyes ––
Buried underneath the earth… IV:387-432
Another example of Stallings’s Lucretian poetry related to the maritime domain: “…science in the dark and murky storm to steer Into calm waters and safe harbor, where the sky was clear.” Here’s more from Book VI:
It’s easy from the earlier explanations to see why
What Greeks call ‘blowers’– waterspouts – descend out of the sky
Onto the water. For, at times, a kind of column falls
Out of the sky and touches the sea. And whipped up by the squalls
Of heavy, hissing blasts, the sea around it seethes and brawls.
And any bark that’s caught out in the hurricane is tossed,
Pitching and yawing on the waves, in danger of being lost.
Sometimes this happens when a stirred-up force of wind at first
Attempts to rend a cloud, but when it cannot make it burst
Presses it down instead, so that it drops upon the seas
Like a column let down from the heavens, as though, by degrees,
Something inside the cloud reached towards the water from above –
As if a fist on outstretched arm pushed down a cloudy glove.
And when the force rips open the cloud at last and it bursts free
On the waves, it unleashes an amazing boiling of the sea,
For as it’s lowering, the whirlwind twists, and it drags down
The pliant substance of the cloud along with it, but soon
As it thrusts the pregnant cloud on the face of the waters, in a flash
It plunges itself in the waves, and roils them up with a monstrous crash… VI:431-442
Lucretius explores ideas in science that were, while not always accurate, revolutionary for their time –– about the universe, the origin of the Earth, and the development of species, including the human race. He explores the evolution of morals, ethics, psychology, and philosophy:
But if you’d steer your life by a philosophy that’s true,
The way to be the wealthiest of men is to eschew
High living, and be contented in the mind –– for there has never
Been a poverty of modest means. People yearned, however,
To be renowned and to be powerful –– that way, they thought
They built their fortunes upon solid ground. But all for naught,
Since as men clawed to the pinnacle of office, all the time
They strewed their path with perils. And at the apex of their climb,
Often Envy would blast them like a thunderbolt, to fell
Them with disdain and hurl them in the pit of hateful Hell.
And since, like lightning, Envy loves to singe the summits best,
And anything that raises itself up higher than the rest,
It is far preferable to live in peace and to obey
Than to wish to reign in power and hold whole kingdoms in your sway.
Let others wear themselves out all for nothing, sweating blood,
Battling their way along ambition’s narrow road
Because their wisdom smacks of others’ lips, and they pursue
Things that they only know at second-hand, rather than through
Their own senses. For their way of life is just as wrong
Today as it will be tomorrow, and has been all along.
Thus the sad stories of the death of kings: for toppled down
Lay ancient majesty of throne and sceptre; and the crown,
Besmirched with gore, that once had graced the highest head of all,
Trod underneath the rabble’s feet, lamented its great fall ––
For men are eager to trample underfoot what they before
Had held in too much awe. And mankind was reduced once more
To chaos, the very bottom of the barrel, as each sought
Power and glory only for himself. Later, some taught
Men to establish a constitution, set magistrates in place,
That people would want to live by laws; because the human race,
Weary of leading all their days in violence, bled dry
From constant clashes, were all the more eager to put by
Their own will and submit to the rigid rule of law. Each man
Was ready, out of rage, to avenge himself more fiercely than
Would be allowed under today’s impartial laws, and hence
People were sick to death of spending their lives in violence. V:1117-1150
For comparison, here’s part of that passage as translated by Copley. Lucretius’s insights are especially on point in 2021, as they were decades before the Christian era and as published by Copley 44 years ago.
Men lustily trampled what they had vastly feared.
Life sank to the depths, the dregs, back to confusion,
With everyone wanting top rank and highest power.
Then, here and there, men learned to choose officials,
Establish constitutions, and live by law.
For man grew weary: the life of violence
And hatred left him sick, and more disposed
Freely to choose the yoke of law and statute.
For angered men kept calling for revenge
More savage than just law will now permit;
This made man sicken of life by violence. V:1140-1150
In his thoughtful introduction to his translation of “De rerum natura,” Copley delves deep into Epicurean philosophy as captured by Lucretius.
Lucretius’s masterpiece is incomplete. It ends, again apropos for our era, in a time of a pandemic (of plague). What is left out? What is yet to be discovered?
At times, “Nature of Things,” in addition to being incomplete, is inconsistent and repetitive. But it is also indispensable for a critical thinker’s bookshelf.
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