Date: 1703

"A rising storm of Passion shook her Breast, / Her Eyes a piteous show'r of Tears let fall, / And then she sigh'd as if her Heart were breaking."

— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)

Date: 1703

"I found the Fond, Believing, Love-sick Maid, / Loose, unattir'd, warm, tender, full of Wishes; / Fierceness and Pride, the Guardians of her Honour, / Were charm'd to Rest, and Love alone was waking. / Within her rising Bosom all was calm, / As peaceful Seas that know no Storms, and only / Are ge...

— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)

Date: 1703

"At first her Rage was dumb, and wanted Words, / But when the Storm found way, 'twas wild and loud. / Mad as the Priestess of the Delphick God, / Enthusiastick Passion swell'd her Breast, / Enlarg'd her Voice, and ruffled all her Form."

— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)

Date: 1703

"Trust not to that; / Rage is the shortest Passion of our Souls, / Like narrow Brooks that rise with sudden Show'rs, / It swells in haste, and falls again as soon; / Still as it ebbs the softer Thoughts flow in, / And the Deceiver Love supplies its place."

— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)

Date: 1703

"She's here! yet oh! my Tongue is at a loss, / Teach me, some Pow'r, that happy Art of Speech, / To dress my Purpose up in gracious Words; / Such as may softly steal upon her Soul, / And never waken the Tempestuous Passions."

— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)

Date: 1703

"Sorrow, Remorse, and Shame, have torn my Soul, / They hang like Winter on my Youthful Hopes, / And blast the Spring and Promise of my Year."

— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)