And first, 
Since body of earth and water, air's light breath, 
And fiery exhalations (of which four 
This sum of things is seen to be compact) 
So all have birth and perishable frame, 
Thus the whole nature of the world itself 
Must be conceived as perishable too. 
For, verily, those things of which we see 
The parts and members to have birth in time 
And perishable shapes, those same we mark 
To be invariably born in time 
And born to die. And therefore when I see 
The mightiest members and the parts of this 
Our world consumed and begot again, 
'Tis mine to know that also sky above 
And earth beneath began of old in time 
And shall in time go under to disaster. 
And lest in these affairs thou deemest me 
To have seized upon this point by sleight to serve 
My own caprice- because I have assumed 
That earth and fire are mortal things indeed, 
And have not doubted water and the air 
Both perish too and have affirmed the same 
To be again begotten and wax big- 
Mark well the argument: in first place, lo, 
Some certain parts of earth, grievously parched 
By unremitting suns, and trampled on 
By a vast throng of feet, exhale abroad 
A powdery haze and flying clouds of dust, 
Which the stout winds disperse in the whole air. 
A part, moreover, of her sod and soil 
Is summoned to inundation by the rains; 
And rivers graze and gouge the banks away. 
Besides, whatever takes a part its own 
In fostering and increasing aught... 

Is rendered back; and since, beyond a doubt, 
Earth, the all-mother, is beheld to be 
Likewise the common sepulchre of things, 
Therefore thou seest her minished of her plenty, 
And then again augmented with new growth. 

And for the rest, that sea, and streams, and springs 
Forever with new waters overflow 
And that perennially the fluids well. 
Needeth no words- the mighty flux itself 
Of multitudinous waters round about 
Declareth this. But whatso water first 
Streams up is ever straightway carried off, 
And thus it comes to pass that all in all 
There is no overflow; in part because 
The burly winds (that over-sweep amain) 
And skiey sun (that with his rays dissolves) 
Do minish the level seas; in part because 
The water is diffused underground 
Through all the lands. The brine is filtered off, 
And then the liquid stuff seeps back again 
And all re-gathers at the river-heads, 
Whence in fresh-water currents on it flows 
Over the lands, adown the channels which 
Were cleft erstwhile and erstwhile bore along 
The liquid-footed floods. 
Now, then, of air 
I'll speak, which hour by hour in all its body 
Is changed innumerably. For whatso'er 
Streams up in dust or vapour off of things, 
The same is all and always borne along 
Into the mighty ocean of the air; 
And did not air in turn restore to things 
Bodies, and thus recruit them as they stream, 
All things by this time had resolved been 
And changed into air. Therefore it never 
Ceases to be engendered off of things 
And to return to things, since verily 
In constant flux do all things stream. 
Likewise, 
The abounding well-spring of the liquid light, 
The ethereal sun, doth flood the heaven o'er 
With constant flux of radiance ever new, 
And with fresh light supplies the place of light, 
Upon the instant. For whatever effulgence 
Hath first streamed off, no matter where it falls, 
Is lost unto the sun. And this 'tis thine 
To know from these examples: soon as clouds 
Have first begun to under-pass the sun, 
And, as it were, to rend the days of light 
In twain, at once the lower part of them 
Is lost entire, and earth is overcast 
Where'er the thunderheads are rolled along- 
So know thou mayst that things forever need 
A fresh replenishment of gleam and glow, 
And each effulgence, foremost flashed forth, 
Perisheth one by one. Nor otherwise 
Can things be seen in sunlight, lest alway 
The fountain-head of light supply new light. 
Indeed your earthly beacons of the night, 
The hanging lampions and the torches, bright 
With darting gleams and dense with livid soot, 
Do hurry in like manner to supply 
With ministering heat new light amain; 
Are all alive to quiver with their fires,- 
Are so alive, that thus the light ne'er leaves 
The spots it shines on, as if rent in twain: 
So speedily is its destruction veiled 
By the swift birth of flame from all the fires. 
Thus, then, we must suppose that sun and moon 
And stars dart forth their light from under-births 
Ever and ever new, and whatso flames 
First rise do perish always one by one- 
Lest, haply, thou shouldst think they each endure 
Inviolable. 
Again, perceivest not 
How stones are also conquered by Time?- 
Not how the lofty towers ruin down, 
And bo