Translations from Lucretius

Book I, lines 1-328

Thou mother of the Aenead race, delight
Of men and deities, bountiful Venus, thou
Who under the sky’s gliding constellations
Fillest ship-carrying ocean with thy presence
And the corn-bearing lands, since through thy power
Each kind of living creature is conceived
Then riseth and beholdeth the sun’s light:
Before thee and thine advent the winds and clouds
Of heaven take flight, O goddess: daedal earth
Puts forth sweet-scented flowers beneath thy feet:
Beholding thee the smooth deep laughs, the sky
Grows calm and shines with wide-outspreading light.
For soon as the day’s vernal countenance
Has been revealed, and fresh from wintry bonds
Blows the birth-giving breeze of the West wind,
First do the birds of air give sign of thee,
Goddess, and thine approach, as through their hearts
Thine influence smites. Next the wild herds of beasts
Bound over the rich pastures and swim through
The rapid streams, as captured by thy charm
Each one with eager longing follows thee
Whithersoever thou wouldst lure them on.
And thus through seas, mountains and rushing rivers,
Through the birds’ leafy homes and the green plains,
Striking bland love into the hearts of all,
Thou art the cause that following his lust
Each should renew his race after his kind.
Therefore since thou alone art nature’s mistress,
And since without thine aid naught can rise forth
Into the glorious regions of the light,
Nor aught grow to be gladsome and delectable,
Thee would I win to help me while I write
These verses, wherein I labour to describe
The nature of things in honour of my friend
This scion of the Memmian house, whom thou
Hast willed to be found peerless all his days
In every grace. Therefore the more, great deity,
Grant to my words eternal loveliness:
Cause meanwhile that the savage works of warfare
Over all seas and lands sink hushed to rest.
For thou alone hast power to bless mankind
With tranquil peace; since of war’s savage works
Mavors mighty in battle hath control,
Who oft flings himself back upon thy lap,
Quite vanquished by love’s never-healing wound;
And so with upturned face and shapely neck
Thrown backward, feeds with love his hungry looks,
Gazing on thee, goddess, while thus he lies
Supine, and on thy lips his spirit hangs.
O’er him thus couched upon thy holy body
Do thou bend down to enfold him, and from thy lips
Pour tender speech, petitioning calm peace,
O glorious divinity, for thy Romans.
For nor can we in our country’s hour of trouble
Toil with a mind untroubled at our task,
Nor yet may the famed child of Memmius
Be spared from public service in such times.