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Souls made of fire, and children of the sun, With whom revenge is virtue.

Edward Young

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Edward Young
Died: 1765
Died: April 5
Literary Critic
Playwright
Poet
Upham
Hampshire
Sun
Virtue
Fire
Soul
Children
Made
Revenge
Souls

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Give me, indulgent gods with mind serene, And guiltless heart, to range the sylvan scene, No splendid poverty, no smiling care, No well-bred hate, or servile grandeur, there.
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Praise, more divine than prayer prayer points our ready path to heaven praise is already there.
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What most we wish, with ease we fancy near.
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The man that makes a character, makes foes.
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Friendship's the wine of life.
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Affliction is the good man's shining scene prosperity conceals his brightest ray as night to stars, woe lustre gives to man.
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Time elaborately thrown away.
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It calls Devotion! genuine growth of night! Devotion! Daughter of Astronomy! An undevout astronomer is mad!
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None think the great unhappy, but the great.
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There buds the promise of celestial worth.
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We push time from us, and we wish him back * * * * * * Life we think long and short death seek and shun.
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Titles are marks of honest men, and wise The fool or knave that wears a title lies.
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The man that blushes is not quite a brute.
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He that's ungrateful has no guilt but one All other crimes may pass for virtues in him.
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It is great and manly to disdain disguise it shows our spirit and proves our strength.
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Wishing of all employments is the worst
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Thy purpose firm is equal to the deed: Who does the best his circumstance allows Does well, acts nobly angels could no more.
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Fond man! the vision of a moment made! Dream of a dream! and shadow of a shade!
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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.
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Prayer ardent opens heaven.
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