The Poetical Works of James Thomson The City of Dreadful Night: By James Thomson ("B. V."): Edited by Bertram Dobell: With a Memoir of the Author: In two volumes |
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 | The Poetical Works of James Thomson |  |
VI.
No more wild agonies shook the steadfast Earth;
That night of cloud, unable to sustain
Its soul of fire, was withering; when again
Upon the silence that great Voice flowed forth:
That night of cloud, unable to sustain
Its soul of fire, was withering; when again
Upon the silence that great Voice flowed forth:
“When he who should have travelled all the day,
Has lingered on his way
To sport with idlers; or in common fear
Of lone paths steep and drear,
Has turned aside to pace down crowded roads
Of rich and gay abodes;
He must plod this day's journey on the morrow
With weary rue and sorrow,
Ere he can win his happy home, and greet
The dear friends waiting for his laggard feet.”
Has lingered on his way
To sport with idlers; or in common fear
Of lone paths steep and drear,
Has turned aside to pace down crowded roads
Of rich and gay abodes;
He must plod this day's journey on the morrow
With weary rue and sorrow,
Ere he can win his happy home, and greet
The dear friends waiting for his laggard feet.”
158
Whereunto statue-voices low implored:
“Free human fellowship is very sweet;
Bitter with our own kind as foes to meet—
Heavy the load of uncompanioned life!
Alas, we are so weary-sick of strife!
Grant us awhile Thy perfect peace, O Lord!”
“Free human fellowship is very sweet;
Bitter with our own kind as foes to meet—
Heavy the load of uncompanioned life!
Alas, we are so weary-sick of strife!
Grant us awhile Thy perfect peace, O Lord!”
The humble plaining of that saddest prayer,
Relapsing into stony silentness,
So filled my heart that I was unaware
Until surrounded by its sway and stress,
How the deep Ocean rushing from its lair
Bellowed against the hillslopes planted broad;
Whilst fierce from sea-vast cloudglooms in the air,
Blazoned with dreadful sentences of God
In writhed and quivering lightnings wrought, the rain
Intense of swerveless thunderbolts streamed down,
Crashing amidst the ruins of the town,
And shrieking through the loud inundent main.
Relapsing into stony silentness,
So filled my heart that I was unaware
Until surrounded by its sway and stress,
How the deep Ocean rushing from its lair
Bellowed against the hillslopes planted broad;
Whilst fierce from sea-vast cloudglooms in the air,
Blazoned with dreadful sentences of God
In writhed and quivering lightnings wrought, the rain
Intense of swerveless thunderbolts streamed down,
Crashing amidst the ruins of the town,
And shrieking through the loud inundent main.
| The Poetical Works of James Thomson | |