"O for a joy from thy Philander's spring! / A spring perennial, rising in the breast, / And permanent as pure! no turbid stream / Of rapturous exultation, swelling high; / Which, like land-floods, impetuous pour awhile, / Then sink at once, and leave us in the mire."
— Young, Edward (bap. 1683, d. 1765)
That opiate for inquietude within.
Lorenzo! never man was truly bless'd,
But it composed, and gave him such a cast,
As Folly might mistake for want of joy:
A cast unlike the triumph of the proud;
A modest aspect, and a smile at heart.
O for a joy from thy Philander's spring!
A spring perennial, rising in the breast,
And permanent as pure! no turbid stream
Of rapturous exultation, swelling high;
Which, like land-floods, impetuous pour awhile,
Then sink at once, and leave us in the mire.
What does the man who transient joy prefers?
What, but prefer the bubbles to the stream?
(p. 174, ll. 950-964)
Edward Young, The Complaint. Or, Night Thoughts on Life, Death, and Immortality. Night the Eighth. Virtue's Apology: Or, The Man of the World Answer'd. (London: Printed for G. Hawkins, 1745).
Text from The Complete Works, Poetry and Prose, of the Rev. Edward Young, LL.D., 2 vols. (London: William Tegg, 1854). <Link to Google Books>
Reading Edward Young, Night Thoughts, ed. Stephen Cornford (New York: Cambridge UP, 1989).