De Rerum Natura
Lucretius
Lucretius. De Rerum Natura. William Ellery Leonard. E. P. Dutton. 1916.
- And now remains to demonstrate with ease
- How other senses each their things perceive.
- Firstly, a sound and every voice is heard,
- When, getting into ears, they strike the sense
- With their own body. For confess we must
- Even voice and sound to be corporeal,
- Because they're able on the sense to strike.
- Besides voice often scrapes against the throat,
- And screams in going out do make more rough
- The wind-pipe- naturally enough, methinks,
- When, through the narrow exit rising up
- In larger throng, these primal germs of voice
- Have thus begun to issue forth. In sooth,
- Also the door of the mouth is scraped against
- [By air blown outward] from distended [cheeks].
- . . . . . .
- And thus no doubt there is, that voice and words
- Consist of elements corporeal,
- With power to pain. Nor art thou unaware
- Likewise how much of body's ta'en away,
- How much from very thews and powers of men
- May be withdrawn by steady talk, prolonged
- Even from the rising splendour of the morn
- To shadows of black evening,- above all
- If 't be outpoured with most exceeding shouts.
- Therefore the voice must be corporeal,
- Since the long talker loses from his frame
- A part.
- Moreover, roughness in the sound
- Comes from the roughness in the primal germs,
- As a smooth sound from smooth ones is create;
- Nor have these elements a form the same
- When the trump rumbles with a hollow roar,
- As when barbaric Berecynthian pipe
- Buzzes with raucous boomings, or when swans
- By night from icy shores of Helicon
- With wailing voices raise their liquid dirge.
- Thus, when from deep within our frame we force
- These voices, and at mouth expel them forth,
- The mobile tongue, artificer of words,
- Makes them articulate, and too the lips
- By their formations share in shaping them.
- Hence when the space is short from starting-point
- To where that voice arrives, the very words
- Must too be plainly heard, distinctly marked.
- For then the voice conserves its own formation,
- Conserves its shape. But if the space between
- Be longer than is fit, the words must be
- Through the much air confounded, and the voice
- Disordered in its flight across the winds-
- And so it haps, that thou canst sound perceive,
- Yet not determine what the words may mean;
- To such degree confounded and encumbered
- The voice approaches us. Again, one word,
- Sent from the crier's mouth, may rouse all ears
- Among the populace. And thus one voice
- Scatters asunder into many voices,
- Since it divides itself for separate ears,
- Imprinting form of word and a clear tone.
- But whatso part of voices fails to hit
- The ears themselves perishes, borne beyond,
- Idly diffused among the winds. A part,
- Beating on solid porticoes, tossed back
- Returns a sound; and sometimes mocks the ear
- With a mere phantom of a word.