The Poetical Works of Edward Young: In Four Volumes. Collated with the Best Editions: (Google eBook)

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Printed at the Stanhope Press, by Charles Whittingham, ... for John Sharpe, 1808
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Page 13 - 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 From real life ; but little more remote Is he, not yet a candidate for light, The future embryo, slumbering in his sire. Embryos we must be till we burst the shell, Yon ambient azure shell, and spring to life, The life of gods, 0 transport ! and of man.
Page 10 - Fate ! drop the curtain ; I can lose no more. Silence and Darkness ! solemn sisters ! twins From ancient Night, who nurse the tender thought To reason, and on reason build resolve, (That column of true majesty in man...
Page 51 - Hope, of all passions, most befriends us here; Passions of prouder name befriend us less. Joy has her tears, and transport has her death : Hope, like a cordial, innocent, though strong, Man's heart, at once, inspirits and serenes, Nor makes him pay his wisdom for his joys...
Page 9 - TIRED Nature's sweet restorer, balmy sleep ! He, like the world, his ready visit pays Where fortune smiles ; the wretched he forsakes ; Swift on his downy pinion flies from woe, And lights on lids unsullied with a tear.
Page 79 - Can prayer, can praise avert it ?—Thou, my all! My theme, my inspiration, and my crown ! My strength in age ! my rise in low estate ! My soul's ambition, pleasure, wealth !—my world ! My light in darkness! and my life in death ! My boast through time! bliss through eternity ! Eternity, too short to speak thy praise! Or fathom thy profound of love to man ; To man of men the meanest, ev'n to me ! My sacrifice ! my God ! what things are these'!
Page 54 - Smitten friends Are angels sent on errands full of love ; For us they languish, and for us they die: And shall they languish, shall they die, in vain?
Page 26 - Thy purpose firm is equal to the deed. Who does the best his circumstance allows, Does well, acts nobly; angels could no more.
Page 21 - Of man's miraculous mistakes this bears The palm, That all men are about to live, For ever on the brink of being born ; All pay themselves the compliment to think They one day shall not drivel, and their pride On this reversion takes up ready praise (At least their own), their future selves applauds.
Page 11 - An heir of glory! a frail child of dust! Helpless immortal! insect infinite! A worm ! a god ! I tremble at myself, And in myself am lost ! at home a stranger, Thought wanders up and down, surprised, aghast, And wondering at her own: how reason reels!
Page 109 - Each moment on the former shuts the grave, While man is growing, life is in decrease ; And cradles rock us nearer to the tomb. Our birth is nothing but our death begun ; As tapers waste, that instant they take fire.

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