His next work was, "The Centaur not Fabulous, in Six Letters to a Friend." Its subjects were, the infidelity and licentiousness of that age. It is a pity that this book has fallen into oblivion, as it is a very rich and powerful piece of writing. It is full of clear, sharp, sententious truth. Its style palpitates with energy, and glitters with poetic image. We wish we saw it reprinted in a cheap form; for, although infidelity and pleasure have both materially changed their phases, there is much in Young's little work that has an imperishable application, and that would be even yet eminently useful. The character of Altamont is supposed to represent Lord Euston--a nobleman notorious for his vices. The age in which Young's lot was cast was characterised by a low, sneering scepticism, and his earnest and awful letters were treated with ridicule. Many pronounced him mad, others whispered about dotage. _Now_, the book seems replete with wisdom, and burning almost with prophetic fire. Young, in fact, was not generally appreciated during his lifetime. Tried by the Boileau and Pope standard, his writings were pronounced turgid, strained, and extravagant. Even Warburton, who should have known better, passed a severe judgment on the "Night Thoughts." He had, however, his warm admirers, prominent among whom was the amiable and learned Joseph Warton. He dedicated to Young his "Essay on Pope"--an essay containing the first sober and discriminating estimate of that most artificial of true poets, and with the opinions expressed in which Young is supposed to have coincided; for, although he admired, and too often imitated, Pope's brilliant point and antithesis, he was aware of far higher models, and found Homer, Milton, and Job far more congenial companions in his studious midnights. In 1758, he published a short and in nowise remarkable sermon, preached before the King at Kensington. Richardson, the novelist, was one of Young's greatest friends. Their views on moral and religious subjects were identical; and in gravity of tone, and severity of genius, they resembled each other--Richardson being a duller Young, and Young a more elastic and brilliant Richardson. Although both lived in a most depraved age, neither catered to its tastes. To Richardson, Young addressed, in 1759, a letter on Original Composition, which betrays no symptoms of senility, but is full of vigorous and striking remark. In 1762, when upwards of eighty, he wrote his last and worst poem. It is entitled "Resignation," and requires, on the part of the reader, considerable exercise of that grace. It has very little of Young's peculiar power, and is chiefly filled with weak and toothless abuse of his old acquaintance Voltaire. It was written, it appears, at the instance of Mrs Boscawen--the widow of the Admiral--who, having found consolation from the "Night Thoughts," visited Young, and was still more captivated by his conversation.