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    The City of Dreadful Night
    The City of Dreadful Night
    The City of Dreadful Night
    Ebook74 pages42 minutes

    The City of Dreadful Night

    By James Thomson

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    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherArchive Classics
    Release dateSep 1, 1994
    Author

    James Thomson

    JAMES THOMSON has spent a decade introducing students to the joys of building with earth with House Alive, one of the leading natural building training organizations in North America.

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    • 1/5
      1188. The City of Dreadful Night, by James Thomson (Oct 1, 1972) Years ago I heard that this was the most doleful poem in the English language. So I long wanted to read it, and when I found a single 52-page volume of the poem I read it. I got nothing out of it. It never seems real--yes, it is dolorous--but how can one be sad over nothing? Ulalume by Edgar Allan Poe is sadder.

    Book preview

    The City of Dreadful Night - James Thomson

    The Project Gutenberg EBook of The City of Dreadful Night, by James Thomson

    This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with

    almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or

    re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included

    with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org

    Title: The City of Dreadful Night

    Author: James Thomson

    Release Date: August 16, 2008 [EBook #1238]

    Last Updated: February 7, 2013

    Language: English

    *** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE CITY OF DREADFUL NIGHT ***

    Produced by Michael C. Browning, and David Widger

    THE CITY OF DREADFUL NIGHT

    By James Thomson

                 Per me si va nella citta dolente.

                 —Dante

                 Poi di tanto adoprar, di tanti moti

                 D'ogni celeste, ogni terrena cosa,

                 Girando senza posa,

                 Per tornar sempre la donde son mosse;

                 Uso alcuno, alcun frutto

                 Indovinar non so.

                 Sola nel mondo eterna, a cui si volve

                 Ogni creata cosa,

                 In te, morte, si posa

                 Nostra ignuda natura;

                 Lieta no, ma sicura

                 Dell' antico dolor . . .

                 Pero ch' esser beato

                 Nega ai mortali e nega a' morti il fato.

                 —Leopardi

    PROEM

      Lo, thus, as prostrate, "In the dust I write

        My heart's deep languor and my soul's sad tears."

      Yet why evoke the spectres of black night

        To blot the sunshine of exultant years?

      Why disinter dead faith from mouldering hidden?             5

      Why break the seals of mute despair unbidden,

        And wail life's discords into careless ears?

      Because a cold rage seizes one at whiles

        To show the bitter old and wrinkled truth

      Stripped naked of all vesture that beguiles,                10

        False dreams, false hopes, false masks and modes of youth;

      Because it gives some sense of power and passion

      In helpless innocence to try to fashion

        Our woe in living words howe'er uncouth.

      Surely I write not for the hopeful young,                   15

        Or those who deem their happiness of worth,

      Or such as pasture and grow fat among

        The shows of life and feel nor doubt nor dearth,

      Or pious spirits with a God above them

      To sanctify and glorify and love them,                      20

        Or sages who foresee a heaven on earth.

      For none of these I write, and none of these

        Could read the writing if they deigned to try;

      So may they flourish in their due degrees,

        On our sweet earth and in their unplaced sky.             25

      If any cares for the weak words here written,

      It must be some one desolate, Fate-smitten,

        Whose faith and hopes are dead, and who would die.

      Yes, here and there some weary wanderer

        In that same city of tremendous night,                    30

      Will understand the speech and feel a stir

        Of fellowship in all-disastrous fight;

      "I suffer mute and lonely, yet another

      Uplifts his voice to let me know a brother

        Travels the same wild paths though out of sight."         35

      O sad Fraternity, do I unfold

        Your dolorous mysteries shrouded from of yore?

      Nay, be assured; no secret can be told

        To any who divined it not before:                         40

      None uninitiate by many a presage

      Will comprehend the language of the message,

        Although proclaimed aloud for evermore.

                                        I

      The City is of Night; perchance of Death

        But certainly of Night; for never there

      Can come the lucid morning's fragrant breath

        After the dewy dawning's cold grey air:

      The moon and stars may shine with scorn or pity             5

      The sun has never visited that city,

        For it dissolveth in the daylight fair.

      Dissolveth like a dream of night away;

        Though present in distempered

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