O thou who first uplifted in such dark 
So clear a torch aloft, who first shed light 
Upon the profitable ends of man, 
O thee I follow, glory of the Greeks, 
And set my footsteps squarely planted now 
Even in the impress and the marks of thine- 
Less like one eager to dispute the palm, 
More as one craving out of very love 
That I may copy thee!- for how should swallow 
Contend with swans or what compare could be 
In a race between young kids with tumbling legs 
And the strong might of the horse? Our father thou, 
And finder-out of truth, and thou to us 
Suppliest a father's precepts; and from out 
Those scriven leaves of thine, renowned soul 
(Like bees that sip of all in flowery wolds), 
We feed upon thy golden sayings all- 
Golden, and ever worthiest endless life. 
For soon as ever thy planning thought that sprang 
From god-like mind begins its loud proclaim 
Of nature's courses, terrors of the brain 
Asunder flee, the ramparts of the world 
Dispart away, and through the void entire 
I see the movements of the universe. 
Rises to vision the majesty of gods, 
And their abodes of everlasting calm 
Which neither wind may shake nor rain-cloud splash, 
Nor snow, congealed by sharp frosts, may harm 
With its white downfall: ever, unclouded sky 
O'er roofs, and laughs with far-diffused light. 
And nature gives to them their all, nor aught 
May ever pluck their peace of mind away. 
But nowhere to my vision rise no more 
The vaults of Acheron, though the broad earth 
Bars me no more from gazing down o'er all 
Which under our feet is going on below 
Along the void. O, here in these affairs 
Some new divine delight and trembling awe 
Takes hold through me, that thus by power of thine 
Nature, so plain and manifest at last, 
Hath been on every side laid bare to man! 

And since I've taught already of what sort 
The seeds of all things are, and how, distinct 
In divers forms, they flit of own accord, 
Stirred with a motion everlasting on, 
And in what mode things be from them create, 
Now, after such matters, should my verse, meseems, 
Make clear the nature of the mind and soul, 
And drive that dread of Acheron without, 
Headlong, which so confounds our human life 
Unto its deeps, pouring o'er all that is 
The black of death, nor leaves not anything 
To prosper- a liquid and unsullied joy. 
For as to what men sometimes will affirm: 
That more than Tartarus (the realm of death) 
They fear diseases and a life of shame, 
And know the substance of the soul is blood, 
Or rather wind (if haply thus their whim), 
And so need naught of this our science, then 
Thou well may'st note from what's to follow now 
That more for glory do they braggart forth 
Than for belief. For mark these very same: 
Exiles from country, fugitives afar 
From sight of men, with charges foul attaint, 
Abased with every wretchedness, they yet 
Live, and where'er the wretches come, they yet 
Make the ancestral sacrifices there, 
Butcher the black sheep, and to gods below 
Offer the honours, and in bitter case 
Turn much more keenly to religion. 
Wherefore, it's surer testing of a man 
In doubtful perils- mark him as he is 
Amid adversities; for then alone 
Are the true voices conjured from his breast, 
The mask off-stripped, reality behind. 
And greed, again, and the blind lust of honours 
Which force poor wretches past the bounds of law, 
And, oft allies and ministers of crime, 
To push through nights and days of the hugest toil 
To rise untrammelled to the peaks of power- 
These wounds of life in no mean part are kept 
Festering and open by this fright of death. 
For ever we see fierce Want and foul Disgrace 
Dislodged afar from secure life and sweet, 
Like huddling Shapes before the doors of death. 
And whilst, from these, men wish to scape afar, 
Driven by false terror, and afar remove, 
With civic blood a fortune they amass, 
They double their riches, greedy, heapers-up 
Of corpse on corpse they have a cruel laugh 
For the sad burial of a brother-born, 
And hatred and fear of tables of their kin. 
Likewise, through this same terror, envy oft 
Makes them to peak because before their eyes 
That man is lordly, that man gazed upon 
Who walks begirt with honour glorious, 
Whilst they in filth and darkness roll around; 
Some perish away for statues and a name, 
And oft to that degree, from fright of death, 
Will hate of living and beholding light 
Take hold on humankind that they inflict 
Their own destruction with a gloomy heart- 
Forgetful that this fear is font of cares, 
This fear the plague upon their sense of shame, 
And this that breaks the ties of comradry 
And oversets all reverence and faith, 
Mid direst slaughter. For long er