Date: 1719
"He forms our generals for the field, / With all their dreadful skill; / Gives them his awful sword to wield, / And makes their hearts of steel."
preview | full record— Watts, Isaac (1674-1748)
Date: 1721
"My Heart do's like soft Wax relent, / And midst my Bowels flow"
preview | full record— Blackmore, Sir Richard (1654-1729)
Date: 1721
"Bless God, who did not give our Soul / To their sharp Teeth a Prey."
preview | full record— Blackmore, Sir Richard (1654-1729)
Date: 1721
"Our Soul, as from a broken Snare / A Bird escapes, is fled."
preview | full record— Blackmore, Sir Richard (1654-1729)