English poet (1683-1765)
Day buries day; month, month; and year the year:
Our life is but a chain of many deaths.
EDWARD YOUNG
The Revenge
Woes cluster. Rare are solitary woes;
They love a train, they tread each other's heel.
EDWARD YOUNG
Night Thoughts
Ten thousand fools, knaves, cowards, lump'd together,
Become all-wise, all-righteous, and all-mighty.
EDWARD YOUNG
The Brothers
'Tis immortality, 'tis that alone,
Amid life's pains, abasements, emptiness,
The soul can comfort, elevate, and fill.
That only, and that amply this performs.
EDWARD YOUNG
Night Thoughts
The spider's most attenuated thread
Is cord, is cable, to man's tender tie
On earthly bliss; it breaks at every breeze.
EDWARD YOUNG
Night Thoughts
Some for renown, on scraps of learning dote,
And think they grow immortal as they quote.
EDWARD YOUNG
Love of Fame: The Universal Passion in Seven Characteristical Satires
A prince indebted is a fortune made.
EDWARD YOUNG
The Brothers
Yet man, fool man! here buries all his thoughts;
Inters celestial hopes without one sigh.
Prisoner of earth, and pent beneath the moon,
Here pinions all his wishes.
EDWARD YOUNG
Night Thoughts
We rise in glory, as we sink in pride:
Where boasting ends, there dignity begins.
EDWARD YOUNG
Night Thoughts
Leisure is pain; takes off our chariot wheels; how heavily we drag the load of life!
EDWARD YOUNG
Night Thoughts on Life, Death and Immortality
In an active life is sown the seed of wisdom; but he who reflects not, never reaps.
EDWARD YOUNG
The Centaur Not Fabulous
Truth never was indebted to a lie.
EDWARD YOUNG
Night Thoughts
The bell strikes One. We take no note of time
But from its loss. To give it then a tongue
Is wise in man. As if an angel spoke,
I feel the solemn sound. If heard aright,
It is the knell of my departed hours.
EDWARD YOUNG
Night Thoughts
Men may live fools, but fools they cannot die.
EDWARD YOUNG
Night Thoughts
Too low they build who build beneath the stars.
EDWARD YOUNG
Night Thoughts on Life, Death and Immortality
Excellent creature! How my soul pants for thee!
EDWARD YOUNG
Busiris, King of Egypt: A Tragedy
To Virtue's humblest son let none prefer
Vice, tho' descended from the Conqueror.
EDWARD YOUNG
Love of Fame: The Universal Passion in Seven Characteristical Satires
Death! great proprietor of all! 'tis thine
To tread out empire, and to quench the stars.
EDWARD YOUNG
Night Thoughts
A tender smile, our sorrows' only balm.
EDWARD YOUNG
Love of Fame