Nature of Things | Page 5

own primal bodies.
And all from all cannot become, because In each resides a secret power
its own. Again, why see we lavished o'er the lands At spring the rose, at
summer heat the corn, The vines that mellow when the autumn lures, If
not because the fixed seeds of things At their own season must together
stream, And new creations only be revealed When the due times arrive
and pregnant earth Safely may give unto the shores of light Her tender
progenies? But if from naught Were their becoming, they would spring
abroad Suddenly, unforeseen, in alien months, With no primordial
germs, to be preserved From procreant unions at an adverse hour. Nor
on the mingling of the living seeds Would space be needed for the

growth of things Were life an increment of nothing: then The tiny babe
forthwith would walk a man, And from the turf would leap a branching
tree- Wonders unheard of; for, by Nature, each Slowly increases from
its lawful seed, And through that increase shall conserve its kind.
Whence take the proof that things enlarge and feed From out their
proper matter. Thus it comes That earth, without her seasons of fixed
rains, Could bear no produce such as makes us glad, And whatsoever
lives, if shut from food, Prolongs its kind and guards its life no more.
Thus easier 'tis to hold that many things Have primal bodies in common
(as we see The single letters common to many words) Than aught
exists without its origins. Moreover, why should Nature not prepare
Men of a bulk to ford the seas afoot, Or rend the mighty mountains
with their hands, Or conquer Time with length of days, if not Because
for all begotten things abides The changeless stuff, and what from that
may spring Is fixed forevermore? Lastly we see How far the tilled
surpass the fields untilled And to the labour of our hands return Their
more abounding crops; there are indeed Within the earth primordial
germs of things, Which, as the ploughshare turns the fruitful clods And
kneads the mould, we quicken into birth. Else would ye mark, without
all toil of ours, Spontaneous generations, fairer forms. Confess then,
naught from nothing can become, Since all must have their seeds,
wherefrom to grow, Wherefrom to reach the gentle fields of air. Hence
too it comes that Nature all dissolves Into their primal bodies again,
and naught Perishes ever to annihilation. For, were aught mortal in its
every part, Before our eyes it might be snatched away Unto destruction;
since no force were needed To sunder its members and undo its bands.
Whereas, of truth, because all things exist, With seed imperishable,
Nature allows Destruction nor collapse of aught, until Some outward
force may shatter by a blow, Or inward craft, entering its hollow cells,
Dissolve it down. And more than this, if Time, That wastes with eld the
works along the world, Destroy entire, consuming matter all, Whence
then may Venus back to light of life Restore the generations kind by
kind? Or how, when thus restored, may daedal Earth Foster and plenish
with her ancient food, Which, kind by kind, she offers unto each?
Whence may the water-springs, beneath the sea, Or inland rivers, far
and wide away, Keep the unfathomable ocean full? And out of what
does Ether feed the stars? For lapsed years and infinite age must else

Have eat all shapes of mortal stock away: But be it the Long Ago
contained those germs, By which this sum of things recruited lives,
Those same infallibly can never die, Nor nothing to nothing evermore
return. And, too, the selfsame power might end alike All things, were
they not still together held By matter eternal, shackled through its parts,
Now more, now less. A touch might be enough To cause destruction.
For the slightest force Would loose the weft of things wherein no part
Were of imperishable stock. But now Because the fastenings of
primordial parts Are put together diversely and stuff Is everlasting,
things abide the same Unhurt and sure, until some power comes on
Strong to destroy the warp and woof of each: Nothing returns to naught;
but all return At their collapse to primal forms of stuff. Lo, the rains
perish which Ether-father throws Down to the bosom of Earth-mother;
but then Upsprings the shining grain, and boughs are green Amid the
trees, and trees themselves wax big And lade themselves with fruits;
and hence in turn The race of man and all the wild are fed; Hence
joyful cities thrive with boys and girls; And leafy woodlands echo with
new birds; Hence cattle, fat and drowsy, lay their bulk Along the
joyous pastures whilst the drops Of white ooze trickle from distended
bags; Hence the young scamper