Date: 1762

"Therefore, I have no one notion, / That is not form'd, like the designing / Of the peristaltick motion; / Vermicular; twisting and twining; / Going to work / Just like a bottle-skrew upon a cork."

— Sterne, Laurence (1713-1768)

Date: 1762-3

"This glorious system form'd for man / To practise when and how he can, / If the five senses in alliance / To Reason hurl a proud defiance, / And, though oft conquer'd, yet unbroken, / Endeavour to throw off that yoke / Which they a greater slavery hold / Than Jewish bondage was of old."

— Churchill, Charles (1731-1764)

Date: 1762

"Thy griefs pent up, have prey'd upon thy heart."

— Cradock, Joseph (1742-1826)

Date: 1762

"Du reste, renversant, détruisant, foulant aux pieds tout ce que les hommes respectent, ils ôtent aux affligés la dernière consolation de leur misère, aux puissants & aux riches le seul frein de leurs passions; ils arrachent du fond des coeurs le remords du crime, l’espoir de la vertu, & se vante...

— Rousseau, Jean-Jacques (1712-1778)

Date: 1762?

"My heart a cage of birds unclean, / Its old corrupt affections feels, / Its strong propensity to sin; / And God in me no longer dwells."

— Wesley, John and Charles

Date: 1762

"That work of faith the novice blind / Would fain, on fancy's horse, leap o'er, / A shorter way to Zion find, / And fight with sin--when sin's no more."

— Wesley, John and Charles

Date: 1763

"With curious art the brain, too finely wrought, / Preys on herself, and is destroy'd by thought"

— Churchill, Charles (1731-1764)

Date: 1763

"My heart was lighter than a fly, / Like any bird I sung, / Till he pretended love, and I, / Believed his flattering tongue."

— Bickerstaff, Isaac (b. 1733, d. after 1808)

Date: 1763-4

A sudden slumber gently seal'd my eyes, / And wrapt my wearied limbs in soft repose; / Excursive Fancy wing'd her agile flight / Thro' the aerial mansions of the world; / Instant appear'd, portray'd upon my mind, / The fair Urania, clad in candid robe; / And bright around

— Mr. P--y (fl. 1763)

Date: 1765

"In Christ, his work and word / I trust, why should ye say, / That like a tim'rous bird / My soul must wing her way, / And flee from those, whose deadly skill / At worst can but the body kill?"

— Smart, Christopher (1722-1771)