Date: 1706

"If these known Arts cou'd heal my wounded Soul, / Cou'd recompence the Sorrows of my Days, / Or sooth the Sighings of my lonely Nights; / Well might you hope to woe me to your Wishes, / And win my Heart with your fond Tales of Love."

— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)

Date: 1706

"'tis for this / My Soul takes Fire within, and vainly urges / My cold enervate Hand t'assert thy Cause."

— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)

Date: 1706

"Yes Sir, be certain on't, she shall be try'd; / Thro' all the winding Mazes of her Thoughts."

— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)

Date: 1706

"What God, averse to Innocence and Love, / Cou'd shake thy gentle Soul with such a Storm?"

— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)

Date: 1706

"'Till then be kind, and leave me to my self; / Leave me to vent the Fulness of my Breast, / Pour out the Sorrows of my Soul alone, / And sigh my self, if possible, to Peace."

— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)

Date: 1706

"And oh impute not one unheeded Word, / Forc'd from her in the bitterest Pangs of Sorrow, / When fierce conflicting Passions strove within, / Like all the Winds at once let loose upon the Main, / When wild Distraction rul'd."

— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)

Date: 1706

"My gen'rous Soul takes fire, and half repines, / To think she must not share the glorious Danger, / Where Numbers wait you, worthy of your Swords."

— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)

Date: 1706

"Behold that! that!--more dreadful than Medusa, / It drives my Soul back to her inmost Seats, / And freezes every stiff'ning Limb to Marble."

— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)

Date: November 25, 1707; 1708

"Since the same Flame, by different Ways express'd, / Glows in the Heroe's and the Poet's Breast."

— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)

Date: November 25, 1707; 1708

"'Tis wonderful indeed; and yet great Souls, / By Nature half divine, soar to the Stars, / And hold a near Acquaintance with the Gods."

— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)