Edward Young (1683 – 1765)
English poet, best remembered for Night Thoughts.
Heaven’s Sovereign saves all beings but himself
That hideous sight,—a naked human heart.
There is something in Poetry beyond Prose-reason; there are Mysteries in it not to be explained, but admired.
To frown at pleasure, and to smile in pain.
To waft a feather or to drown a fly.
Time elaborately thrown away.
Ambition! powerful source of good and ill!
All men think all men mortal but themselves.
The house of laughter makes a house of woe.
The booby father craves a booby son,
And by Heaven’s blessing thinks himself undone.
Insatiate archer! could not one suffice?
Thy shaft flew thrice, and thrice my peace was slain;
And thrice, ere thrice yon moon had filled her horn.
By night an atheist half believes a God.
Creation sleeps! 'Tis as the general pulse
Of life stood still, and Nature made a pause;
An awful pause! prophetic of her end.
For her own breakfast she'll project a scheme,
Nor take her tea without a strategem.
The spirit walks of every day deceased.
'T is elder Scripture, writ by God's own hand,—
Scripture authentic! uncorrupt by man.
Great let me call him, for he conquered me.
Wishing, of all employments, is the worst.
Some for renown, on scraps of learning dote,
And think they grow immortal as they quote.
They only babble who practise not reflection.
Their feet through faithless leather met the dirt,
And oftener chang'd their principles than shirt.