 | The complete works, poetry and prose, of the Rev. Edward Young prefixed, a life of the author, by John Doran ... With eight illustrations on steel, and a portrait. In two volumes |  |
But wherefore infamy?—For want of faith,
Down the steep precipice of wrong he slides;
There's nothing to support him in the right.
Faith in the future wanting, is, at least
In embryo, every weakness, every guilt;
And strong Temptation ripens it to birth.
If this life's gain invites him to the deed,
Why not his country sold, his father slain?
'Tis virtue to pursue our good supreme;
And his supreme, his only good is here.
Ambition, Avarice, by the wise disdain'd,
Is perfect wisdom, while mankind are fools,
And think a turf or tomb-stone covers all:
These find employment, and provide for Sense
A richer pasture, and a larger range;
And Sense by right Divine ascends the throne,
When Virtue's prize and prospect are no more:
Virtue no more we think the will of Heaven.
Would Heaven quite beggar Virtue, if beloved?
Down the steep precipice of wrong he slides;
There's nothing to support him in the right.
Faith in the future wanting, is, at least
In embryo, every weakness, every guilt;
And strong Temptation ripens it to birth.
If this life's gain invites him to the deed,
Why not his country sold, his father slain?
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And his supreme, his only good is here.
Ambition, Avarice, by the wise disdain'd,
Is perfect wisdom, while mankind are fools,
And think a turf or tomb-stone covers all:
These find employment, and provide for Sense
A richer pasture, and a larger range;
And Sense by right Divine ascends the throne,
When Virtue's prize and prospect are no more:
Virtue no more we think the will of Heaven.
Would Heaven quite beggar Virtue, if beloved?
| The complete works, poetry and prose, of the Rev. Edward Young prefixed, a life of the author, by John Doran ... With eight illustrations on steel, and a portrait. In two volumes | |