Into such grouping, and acquired such motions As those whereby the present sum of things Is carried on and ceaselessly renewed. But even were I ignorant how things Were formed of primal elements, yet this Would I have ventured to affirm, and prove Not only from the system of the heavens, But from much other evidence, that nature Has by no means been fashioned for our benefit By divine power; so great are the defects Which are its bane. First, of the whole space Covered by the enormous reach of heaven, A greedy portion mountains occupy And forests of wild beasts; rocks and waste swamps Possess it, or the wide land-sundering sea. Besides, well nigh two-thirds are stolen from men By burning heat and frost ceaselessly falling. All that is left for husbandry, even that The force of Nature soon would overspread With thorns, unless resisted by man’s force, Ever wont for his livelihood to groan Over the strong hoe, and with down-pressed plough To cleave the earth. For if we do not turn The fertile clods with coulters, and subduing The soil of earth, summon the crops to birth, They could not of their own accord spring up Into the bright air. Even then sometimes, When answering our long toil throughout the land Every bud puts forth its leaves and flowers, Either the sun in heaven scorches them With too much heat, or sudden gusts of rain Or nipping frosts destroy them, or wind-storms Shatter them with impetuous whirling blasts. Furthermore why does Nature multiply And nourish terrible tribes of savage beasts By land and sea, dangerous to mankind? Why does untimely death range to and fro? Then again, like a mariner cast ashore By raging waves, the human infant lies Naked upon the ground, speechless, in want Of every help needful for life, when first Nature by birth-throes from his mother’s womb Thrusts him into the borders of the light, So that he fills the room with piteous wailing, As well he may, whose fate in life will be To pass through so much misery. But flocks And herds of divers kind, and the wild beasts, These, as they grow up, have no need of rattles: To none of them a foster-nurse must utter Fond broken speech: they seek not different dresses To suit each season: no, nor do they need Weapons nor lofty walls whereby to guard What is their own, since all things for them all The Earth herself brings forth abundantly, And Nature, the creatress manifold.