He was the son of Edward Young, later Dean of Salisbury, and was born at his father's rectory at Upham, near Winchester, where he was baptized on 3 July 1683. He was educated at Winchester College, and matriculated in 1702 at New College, Oxford. He later moved to Corpus Christi, and in 1708 was nominated by Archbishop Tenison to a law fellowship at All Souls. He took his degree of D.C.L. in 1719
His first publication was an Epistle to ... Lord Lansdoune (1713). It was followed by a Poem on the Last Day (1713), dedicated to Queen Anne; The Force of Religion: or Vanquished Love (1714), a poem on the execution of Lady Jane Grey and ... more »
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Edward Young Poems
The Complaint: or Night Thoughts (excerp...
By Nature's law, what may be, may be now; There's no prerogative in human hours. In human hearts what bolder thought can rise, Than man's presumption on to-morrow's dawn?
Ocean: An Ode. Concluding with A Wish.
What do we see! Cato then become A greater name in Britain than in Rome? Does mankind now admire his virtues more, Though Lucan, Horace, Virgil, wrote before?
Ocean: An Ode. Concluding with A wish.*
I. Sweet rural scene! Of flocks and green! At careless ease my limbs are spread;
The Last Day (excerpt)
Sooner or later, in some future date, (A dreadful secret in the book of Fate) This hour, for aught all human wisdom knows, Or when ten thousand harvests more have rose;
Tired Nature's sweet restorer, balmy sleep, - He, like the world, his ready visit pays Where fortune smiles: the wretched he forsakes,
The wind from the West
Blow high, blow low, O wind from the West; You come from the country I love the best.
To The Right Hon. Mr. Dodington
Long, Dodington, in debt, I long have sought To ease the burden of my graceful thought: And now a poet's gratitude you see:
Great God! Greater than greatest! better than the best! Kinder than kindest! with soft pity's eye Look down -
A Poem On The Last Day - Book III
The book unfolding, the resplendent seat Of saints and angels, the tremendous fate Of guilty souls, the gloomy realms of woe,
Night is fair Virtue's immemorial friend. The conscious moon through every distant age Has held a lamp to Wisdom, and let fall
A Poem On The Last Day - Book II
Now man awakes, and from his silent bed, Where he has slept for ages, lifts his head; Shakes off the slumber of ten thousand years,
A Poem On The Last Day - Book I
While others sing the fortune of the great, Empire and arms, and all the pomp of state; With Britain's hero set their souls on fire,
Love of Fame, The Universal Passion (exc...
Man's rich with little, were his judgment true; Nature is frugal, and her wants are few; Those few wants answer'd, bring sincere delights; But fools create themselves new appetites:
Resignation Pt 2
But what in either sex, beyond All parts, our glory crowns? 'In ruffling seasons to be calm, And smile, when fortune frowns.'
Quotationsmore quotations »
Illustrious examples engross, prejudice, and intimidate. They engross our attention, and so prevent a due inspection of ourselves; they prejudice our judgment in favour of their abilities, and so less...Edward Young (1683-1765), British poet, dramatist. Conjectures on Original Composition (1759).
''All men think all men mortal, but themselves.''Edward Young (1683-1765), British poet, playwright. repr. In Complete Works, ed. J. Doran (1968). Night 1, l. 424, The Complaint, or Night-Thoughts on...
''Procrastination is the thief of time.''Edward Young (1683-1765), British poet, playwright. repr. In Complete Works, ed. J. Doran (1968). Night 1, l. 393, The Complaint, or Night-Thoughts on...
''Our birth is nothing but our death begun.''Edward Young (1683-1765), British poet, playwright. repr. In Complete Works, ed. J. Doran (1968). Night 5, l. 718, The Complaint, or Night-Thoughts on...
Comments about Edward Young
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The Complaint: or Night Thoughts (excerpt)
By Nature's law, what may be, may be now;
There's no prerogative in human hours.
In human hearts what bolder thought can rise,
Than man's presumption on to-morrow's dawn?
Where is to-morrow? In another world.
For numbers this is certain; the reverse
Is sure to none; and yet on this perhaps,
This peradventure, infamous for lies,
As on a rock of adamant we build
Our mountain hopes, spin out eternal schemes
As we the Fatal Sisters could out-spin,
And big with life's futurities, expire.
Not ev'n Philander had bespoke his shroud,