Date: 1742

"A soul immortal, spending all her fires, / Wasting her strength in strenuous idleness, / Thrown into tumult, raptured, or alarm'd, / At aught this scene can threaten, or indulge, / Resembles ocean into tempest wrought, / To waft a feather, or to drown a fly."

— Young, Edward (bap. 1683, d. 1765)

Date: 1743

"Think'st thou, Lorenzo , to find pastimes here? / No guilty passion blown into a flame, / No foible flatter'd, dignity disgraced, / No fairy field of fiction, all on flower, / No rainbow colours here, or silken tale."

— Young, Edward (bap. 1683, d. 1765)

Date: 1745

"With inward eyes, and silent as the grave, / They stand collecting every beam of thought, / Till their hearts kindle with Divine delight; / For all their thoughts, like angels seen of old / In Israel's dream, come from, and go to, heaven."

— Young, Edward (bap. 1683, d. 1765)

Date: 1745

"Imagination is the Paphian shop, / Where feeble Happiness, like Vulcan, lame, / Bids foul Ideas, in their dark recess, / And hot as hell, (which kindled the black fires,) / With wanton art, those fatal arrows form / Which murder all thy time, health, wealth, and fame."

— Young, Edward (bap. 1683, d. 1765)

Date: 1745

"His virtue, constitutionally deep, / Has Habit's firmness, and Affection's flame; / Angels, allied, descend to feed the fire; / And Death, which others slays, makes him a god."

— Young, Edward (bap. 1683, d. 1765)