Date: 1693
"When sent from Heav'n a more than common Guest / Takes up his dwelling in a mortal Breast;"
preview | full record— Hawkshaw, Benjamin (1671/2-1738)
Date: 1693
"No suppliant crowds before the judge appeared; / No court erected yet, nor cause was heard; / But all was safe, for conscience was their guard."
preview | full record— Dryden, John (1631-1700)
Date: 1693
"Thy Wit and Beauty charm'd my panting Breast, / And first inspir'd thy Love into my heart! Which Was till then a stranger:"
preview | full record— Higden, Henry (bap. 1645)
Date: 1695
"The busie Crowd fills all the labouring Brain, / Bright Fancy's Work-house, where close Cells contain / Of Forms and Images an endless Train, / Which thither thro' the waking Senses glide, / And in fair Mem'ry's Magazine abide."
preview | full record— Blackmore, Sir Richard (1654-1729)
Date: 1695
"Compos'd of these, light Scenes and Shows appear, / Which still employ the restless Theater. / Divinely mov'd, the Airy Figures take / Their several Ranks, and this bright Vision make."
preview | full record— Blackmore, Sir Richard (1654-1729)
Date: 1696
"Poor thredbare Vertue ne'er admir'd in Court. / But seeks its Refuge in an honest Mind, / There it securely dwells, / Like Anchorets in Cells / Where no Ambition nor wild Lust resorts."
preview | full record— Tutchin, John (1661-1707)
Date: 1696
"What's this I feel thus rising in my Breast? Have I room there for any thing but Love? From whence then this new Guest? Is't Jealousie? "
preview | full record— Scott, Thomas (fl. 1696-1697)
Date: 1696
"Pitty would not now at least /Have been a stranger to her Breast"
preview | full record— Oldmixon, John (1672/3-1742)
Date: 1696
"No, for I have heard some say, Men are ne're less alone, then when alone. reason I suppose is this, because they have Crowds of Thoughts, that still per the Mind; which wou'd be like the Soul retired and free, thereby to enjoy sweet Repose, which nought but that can Grant."
preview | full record— Harris, Joseph (fl. 1684-1703)
Date: 1696
"I find the danger now: my Spirits start / At the alarm, and from all quarters come / To Man my Heart, the Citadel of love."
preview | full record— Southerne, Thomas (1659-1746)