Date: 1734

"Hail, holy souls, no more confin'd / To limbs and bones that clog the mind; / Ye have escap'd the snares, and left the chains behind."

— Watts, Isaac (1674-1748)

Date: 1734

"If I but close my eyes, strange images / In thousand forms and thousand colours rise, / Stars, rainbows, moons, green dragons, bears and ghosts, / An endless medley rush upon the stage, / And dance and riot wild in reason's court / Above control."

— Watts, Isaac (1674-1748)

Date: 1734

"Is then my heart to all the world beside / Softer than melting wax or summer snow, / But to myself harder than adamant?"

— Watts, Isaac (1674-1748)

Date: 1734

"I'm in a raging storm, / Where seas and skies are blended, while my soul / Like some light worthless chip of floating cork / Is tost from wave to wave."

— Watts, Isaac (1674-1748)

Date: 1735

"As if thy thrifty Soul foreknew, / Like a wise Envoy, Heav'n's Intent / Soon to recall whom it had sent, / And all its Task resolv'd at once to do."

— Hughes, John (1678?-1720)

Date: October, 1739

"Teach me to cool my passion's fires, / Make me the judge of my desires / The master of my heart."

— Akenside, Mark (1720-1771)

Date: 1744, 1772, 1795

"These flattering scenes / To this neglected labour court my song; / Yet not unconscious what a doubtful task / To paint the finest features of the mind, / And to most subtile and mysterious things / Give colour, strength, and motion."

— Akenside, Mark (1720-1771)

Date: 1744, 1772, 1795

"Not so the moral species, nor the powers / Of genius and design; the ambitious mind / There sees herself: by these congenial forms / Touch'd and awaken'd, with intenser act / She bends each nerve, and meditates well-pleas'd / Her features in the mirror."

— Akenside, Mark (1720-1771)

Date: 1744, 1772, 1795

"By these mysterious ties the busy power / Of memory her ideal train preserves / Intire; or when they would elude her watch, / Reclaims their fleeting footsteps from the waste / Of dark oblivion."

— Akenside, Mark (1720-1771)

Date: 1744, 1772, 1795

"Sure the rising sun / O'er the cærulean convex of the sea, / With equal brightness and with equal warmth / Might rowl his fiery orb; nor yet the soul / Thus feel her frame expanded, and her powers / Exulting in the splendor she beholds; / Like a young conqueror moving through the pomp / Of...

— Akenside, Mark (1720-1771)