Complete Poems

That which has been brought forth ought to be abolished: and the more so, the more the mind is shaken by these truths, I shall leave fictions for the sake of fictions.

On Love.

He who once defined love as longing
Erred, and simultaneously deceived both himself and the common herd.
That is not the law of a precise or sharp statement.
It does not befit the Divine, nor us, nor indeed that which
Indulges itself in beasts, nor in things devoid of soul.
For would God, who lacks nothing, desire what he already has? And we,
When we possess it? A heifer, worn thin by longing,
Wandering about, seeks her calf; I would confess that she does this
Out of love. But when she sees it in the deep valleys,
Her old care laid aside, she assumes a new one there, until
She carries her steps with a leap, and clinging,
Rubs against it, or sucks the teats distended with milk.
Then, having set aside her longing, she does not set aside her love.
Thus, too, when a clod of Alpine earth is stirred by the force of the North wind,
And, carried aloft by violent pulses, it makes the breezes:
At length, it lets itself fall into the bosom of its parent, safe,
Having enjoyed rest after its first longing:
That final state, which it bound with natural love.
To such a degree have the ancients been able to deceive our
Simplicity: therefore antiquity itself is to be venerated
As the author, source, and origin of many good things.
Take what is settled, but whatever wavers,
Either make it firm or remove it just as much: and depart
From suspicion itself, and from the threat of ruin.
But now there is hardly love, but still the traces of love:
Whereby we desire to cling to the first cause, and to the good.
Then it will be perfect, then truly full love, when
In our homeland we shall at last happily cling to Him.
So far will it be from longing, that we should be held by any [thing].
What, then, is love? An affection, to which the name is union,