And when from far away we do behold The squared towers of a city, oft Rounded they seem,--on this account because Each distant angle is perceived obtuse, Or rather it is not perceived at all; And perishes its blow nor to our gaze Arrives its stroke, since through such length of air Are borne along the idols that the air Makes blunt the idol of the angle's point By numerous collidings. When thuswise The angles of the tower each and all Have quite escaped the sense, the stones appear As rubbed and rounded on a turner's wheel-- Yet not like objects near and truly round, But with a semblance to them, shadowily. Likewise, our shadow in the sun appears To move along and follow our own steps And imitate our carriage--if thou thinkest Air that is thus bereft of light can walk, Following the gait and motion of mankind. For what we use to name a shadow, sure Is naught but air deprived of light. No marvel: Because the earth from spot to spot is reft Progressively of light of sun, whenever In moving round we get within its way, While any spot of earth by us abandoned Is filled with light again, on this account It comes to pass that what was body's shadow Seems still the same to follow after us In one straight course. Since, evermore pour in New lights of rays, and perish then the old, Just like the wool that's drawn into the flame. Therefore the earth is easily spoiled of light And easily refilled and from herself Washeth the black shadows quite away.