In July 1730, Young was presented by his college to the rectory of Welwyn in Hertfordshire. We refer our readers, for various delightful speculations and anecdotes about his residence and labours there, to Bulwer's _Student_. He was a powerful preacher. His sermons seem to have been striking in thought, rich in image, intensely practical in tendency, and were delivered with great animation and effect. It is told, that on one occasion, while preaching at St James's before the Court and His Majesty, on some subject of transcendent importance, and not being able to command the attention or awaken the feelings of his audience, he at length threw himself back into the pulpit, and burst into tears. That was itself a sermon! The figure of this weeping Titan, who could have rent rocks and severed mountains, but who had failed in breaking the hearts of any of his courtly hearers, is one of the most affecting in the annals of pulpit oratory. Alas! what preacher who has ever aimed at Young's object, has not been at times tempted to assume Young's attitude, and to shed Young's bitter and burning tears? "Who hath believed our report, and to whom is the arm of the Lord revealed?" In 1731, Young, at the mature age of fifty, married the Lady Elizabeth Lee, daughter of the Earl of Lichfield, and widow of Colonel Lee. This marriage sprung out of his father's acquaintance with Lady Ann Wharton, who was co-heiress of Sir Henry Lee of Ditchley in Oxfordshire, and seems to have been very happy. He next published another of those stupid odes by which he seemed predestined to disgrace his genius, entitled "A Sea Piece." It was as though Milton had tried to write Anacreontics. A few years afterwards appeared "The Foreign Address, or the Best Argument for Peace," occasioned by the posture of affairs in which the British fleet was then placed, and written in the character of a sailor. It is a mere tissue of sounding verbiage--or, as Hamlet hath it, "Words, words, words." About this time Young met with Voltaire, who, according to the story, was ridiculing Milton's allegory of "Death and Sin," when our hero struck in with the extempore epigram:-- "Thou art so witty, profligate, and thin, That thou thyself art Milton, Death, and Sin."