[2] 'But the sober exercise of reason, investigating the causes why we choose or avoid anything, and banishing those opinions which cause the greatest trouble in the soul.'
[3] ii. 16-19.
[4] 'Thereupon he perceived that the vessel itself caused the evil, and that all external gains and blessings whatsoever were vitiated within through its fault, partly because he saw that it was so unsound and leaky that it could never be filled in any way, partly because he discerned that it tainted inwardly everything which it had received as it were with a nauseous flavour.'—vi. 17-23.
[5] iii. 39.
[6] vi. 404-5.
[7] 'O miserable race of man when they imputed to the Gods such acts as these, and ascribed to them also angry passions. What sorrow did they then prepare for themselves, what deep wounds for us, what tears for our descendants. For there is no holiness in being often seen, turning round with head veiled, in presence of a stone, and in drawing nigh to every altar; nor in lying prostrate in the dust, and uplifting the hands before the temples of the Gods; nor in sprinkling altars with the blood of beasts, and in ever fastening up new votive offerings, but rather in being able to look at all things with a mind at peace.'—v. 1194-1203.
[8] vi. 75-78.
[9] 'The holy presence of the Gods is revealed, and their peaceful dwelling-places, which neither the winds beat upon, nor the clouds bedew with rain; nor does snow, gathered in flakes by keen frost, and falling white, invade them; ever the cloudless ether enfolds them, and they are radiant with far-spread light.'—iii. 18-22.
[10] v. 145-225.
[11] The feelings with which Lucretius contemplates the solemn procession of Cybele may be illustrated by the following passage, quoted by Mr. Morley in his Life of Diderot, vol. ii. p. 65: 'Absurd rigorists do not know the effect of external ceremonies on the people: they can never have seen the enthusiasm of the multitude at the procession of the Fête Dieu, an enthusiasm that sometimes even gains me. I have never seen that long file of priests in their vestments, those young acolytes clad in their white robes, with broad blue sashes engirdling their waists, and casting flowers on the ground before the Holy Sacrament, the crowd, as it goes before and follows after them, hushed in religious silence, and so many with their faces bent reverently to the ground: I have never heard the grave and pathetic chant, as it is led by the priests and fervently responded to by an infinity of voices of men, of women, of girls, of little children, without my inmost heart being stirred, and tears coming into my eyes. There is in it something, I know not what, that is grand, solemn, sombre, and mournful.'