Date: 1713

"Thus far, our slow Imagination goes: / Wou'd the more skill'd THEANOR his disclose; / Expand the Scene, and open to our Sight / What to his nicer Judgment gives Delight; / Whose soaring Mind do's to Perfections climb, / Nor owns a Relish, but for Things sublime."

— Finch [née], Anne, Countess of Winchilsea (1666-1720)

Date: 1713

"An equal Partner in the vanquish'd Earth, / A Brother, not impos'd upon my Birth, / Too weak a Tye unequal Thoughts to bind, / But by the gen'rous Motions of the Mind."

— Finch [née], Anne, Countess of Winchilsea (1666-1720)

Date: 1713

"How soft the first Ideas prove, / Which wander through our Minds!"

— Finch [née], Anne, Countess of Winchilsea (1666-1720)

Date: 1713

"Bless me, each cries, from such a working Brain! / And to Hippocrates they send / The Sage's long-acquainted Friend, / To put in Tune his jarring Mind again, / And Pericranium mend."

— Finch [née], Anne, Countess of Winchilsea (1666-1720)

Date: 1713

"Away the Skilful Doctor comes / Of Recipes and Med'cines full, / To check the giddy Whirl of Nature's Fires, / If so th' unruly Case requires; / Or with his Cobweb-cleansing Brooms / To sweep and clear the over-crouded Scull, / If settl'd Spirits flag, and make the Patient dull."

— Finch [née], Anne, Countess of Winchilsea (1666-1720)

Date: 1713

"Behold him now contemplating that Head, / From which long-since both Flesh, and Brains are fled; / Questioning, if that empty, hollow Bowl / Did not ere while contain the Human Soul."

— Finch [née], Anne, Countess of Winchilsea (1666-1720)

Date: 1713

"But silent Musings urge the Mind to seek / Something, too high for Syllables to speak; / Till the free Soul to a compos'dness charm'd, / Finding the Elements of Rage disarm'd, / O'er all below a solemn Quiet grown, / Joys in th'inferiour World, and thinks it like her Own."

— Finch [née], Anne, Countess of Winchilsea (1666-1720)

Date: 1713

"Through ev'ry Age some Tyrant Passion reigns"

— Finch [née], Anne, countess of Winchilsea (1666-1720)

Date: 1713

"Through ev'ry Age some Tyrant Passion reigns: / Now Love prevails, and now Ambition gains / Reason's lost Throne, and sov'reign Rule maintains."

— Finch [née], Anne, countess of Winchilsea (1666-1720)

Date: 1713

"The Rafters sink, and bury'd with his Coin / That Fate does with his living Thoughts combine; / For still his Heart's inclos'd within a Golden Mine."

— Finch [née], Anne, countess of Winchilsea (1666-1720)