Night Thoughts

by Edward Young, Thomas Stothard, Joseph Collyer

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Genres: Poetry, Philosophy, English Literature, Romanticism, History, Nonfiction, Religion

416 pages, Hardcover

First published January 1, 1745

About the author

Edward Young (c. 3 July 1683 – 5 April 1765) was an English poet, critic, philosopher and theologian, best remembered for Night-Thoughts.

Reviews

[Virginia · Rating 5 out of 5]

I'm having a hard time formulating my thoughts about this beyond words like "Amazing," "Spectacular," etc., which give no more information than my five-star rating. This is the best work of blank verse I've read. Considering that it's many thousands of lines of the same form, it remains varied and stylistically interesting throughout, probably due to its creative use of punctuation. While it does not live up to modern standards of imagery, it doesn't have to (and I firmly disagree with most modern critics on that anyway); however, when Young does use imagery, he is incredibly skilled with it, especially in "Night IX". That's not even mentioning the subject matter of the poem(s), which is dense and thought-provoking, and beyond the scope of a review. I recommend this to anyone who likes poetry, and doesn't mind an antiquated style, or is interested in the history of poetry and literature in general.

[Kristina · Rating 5 out of 5]

A book that every serious poet should read...at least once! It's not so much like a beautiful piece of art, but more like a transcendent compendium of truthful verses.

[Irum Zahra · Rating 5 out of 5]

I'm in awe.

Beautiful. Just Beautiful

[Adam Carnehl · Rating 5 out of 5]

The most popular English poem of the latter half of the eighteenth century has fallen into obscurity of late. Hamann revered it; Goethe learned English from it; Herder quoted it; Wesley had his children memorize parts of it; and all the Romantics were influenced by it. Despite going through dozens of editions in the first 25 years of its existence and being translated into all of Europe's major languages by 1800, the 1746 poem "Night Thoughts" had to wait a century-and-a-half for a new, critical edition. This one, from the late 1980s, is very good, though flawed in certain important respects. The major flaw is Cornford's philosophy of using only first editions of each of the nine books as his base texts while including later, variant readings only in end-notes. This raises questions about what Young considered to be the best versions of various parts as he himself changed very many passages throughout the entire work throughout his elder years, even overseeing one or two editions of his complete works that differed - at times - substantially from the earliest editions. A better solution may have been to have large variant readings printed alongside the first edition text.

Anyways, there is no 'middle ground' of opinion for readers of this nearly 10,000 line poem in nine books. Some readers find it spiritually transformational while the remainder find it meandering, ponderous, and inartistic. It's probably because of the notable lack of plot; the plot is that Young is mourning the death of two women and a man whom he dearly loved while he defends theological doctrines before a friend who is a hedonist and deist. The five or so people Young mentions in this book are not described with great detail and are loosely based on real people in his life. The details of their deaths are left out for the most part. Unusual for poems that fall into the "pre-Romantic" category (problematic in itself, but I'll come back to this), this is a heavily metaphysical exploration of humanity and eternal life in un-rhymed blank verse. Young is justly famous for his brilliant 'one-liners' of which there is no lack in Night Thoughts.

[Kieran Darnell · Rating 5 out of 5]

Just stumbled upon this author and poem and damn, Young’s Night Thoughts, though less refined than, is definitely up there with Milton’s Paradise Lost imo. From Night One:

Death! great proprietor of all! ’tis thine
To tread out empire, and to quench the stars.
The sun himself by thy permission shines;
And, one day, thou shalt pluck him from his sphere.
Amid such mighty plunder, why exhaust
Thy partial quiver on a mark so mean?
Why thy peculiar rancour wreak’d on me?

I mean come on…

While o’er my limbs sleep’s soft dominion spread,
What though my soul fantastic measures trod
O’er fairy fields; or mourn’d along the gloom
Of pathless woods; or down the craggy steep
Hurl’d headlong, swam with pain the mantled pool;
Or scaled the cliff; or danced on hollow winds,
With antic shapes, wild natives of the brain?
Her ceaseless flight, though devious, speaks her nature
Of subtler essence than the trodden clod;
Active, aërial, towering, unconfined,
Unfetter’d with her gross companion’s fall.
Even silent night proclaims my soul immortal:
Even silent night proclaims eternal day.

Or, or

This is the bud of being, the dim dawn,
The twilight of our day, the vestibule;
Life’s theatre as yet is shut, and death,
Strong death, alone can heave the massy bar,
This gross impediment of clay remove,
And make us embryos of existence free.

Chills 😝

[Lorelei · Rating 3 out of 5]

I have never been one for poetry. Most of it goes over my head. This was no different, but there were lines that struck me either in my perceived meaning or the ease of which they flowed off the tongue. I kept a list of them for posterity's sake.

[Gabi Leoncini · Rating 1 out of 5]

Young says that 'Procrastination is the thief of time' but honestly, I think I'd have felt more productive if I proscrastinated this text.

[Jordan · Rating 2 out of 5]

Meandering, ineffective. Takes the worst of both major poetic forms. Plotless as a lyric and as languidly predictable as the worst of 'Epick'.

[✨Yasmin✨]

finally.