Date: 1713

"Thus far, our slow Imagination goes: / Wou'd the more skill'd THEANOR his disclose; / Expand the Scene, and open to our Sight / What to his nicer Judgment gives Delight; / Whose soaring Mind do's to Perfections climb, / Nor owns a Relish, but for Things sublime."

— Finch [née], Anne, Countess of Winchilsea (1666-1720)

Date: 1713

"An equal Partner in the vanquish'd Earth, / A Brother, not impos'd upon my Birth, / Too weak a Tye unequal Thoughts to bind, / But by the gen'rous Motions of the Mind."

— Finch [née], Anne, Countess of Winchilsea (1666-1720)

Date: 1713

"How soft the first Ideas prove, / Which wander through our Minds!"

— Finch [née], Anne, Countess of Winchilsea (1666-1720)

Date: 1713

"Bless me, each cries, from such a working Brain! / And to Hippocrates they send / The Sage's long-acquainted Friend, / To put in Tune his jarring Mind again, / And Pericranium mend."

— Finch [née], Anne, Countess of Winchilsea (1666-1720)

Date: 1713

"Away the Skilful Doctor comes / Of Recipes and Med'cines full, / To check the giddy Whirl of Nature's Fires, / If so th' unruly Case requires; / Or with his Cobweb-cleansing Brooms / To sweep and clear the over-crouded Scull, / If settl'd Spirits flag, and make the Patient dull."

— Finch [née], Anne, Countess of Winchilsea (1666-1720)

Date: 1713

"Behold him now contemplating that Head, / From which long-since both Flesh, and Brains are fled; / Questioning, if that empty, hollow Bowl / Did not ere while contain the Human Soul."

— Finch [née], Anne, Countess of Winchilsea (1666-1720)

Date: 1713

"But silent Musings urge the Mind to seek / Something, too high for Syllables to speak; / Till the free Soul to a compos'dness charm'd, / Finding the Elements of Rage disarm'd, / O'er all below a solemn Quiet grown, / Joys in th'inferiour World, and thinks it like her Own."

— Finch [née], Anne, Countess of Winchilsea (1666-1720)

Date: 1713

"Now a Dead Sea thou'lt represent, / A Calm of stupid Discontent, / Then, dashing on the Rocks wilt rage into a Storm."

— Finch [née], Anne, Countess of Winchilsea (1666-1720)

Date: 1713

"On Sleep intruding dost thy Shadows spread, / Thy gloomy Terrours round the silent Bed, / And croud with boading Dreams the Melancholy Head."

— Finch [née], Anne, Countess of Winchilsea (1666-1720)

Date: 1713

"Falsly, the Mortal Part we blame / Of our deprest, and pond'rous Frame, / Which, till the First degrading Sin / Let Thee, its dull Attendant, in, / Still with the Other did comply, / Nor clogg'd the Active Soul, dispos'd to fly, / And range the Mansions of it's native Sky."

— Finch [née], Anne, Countess of Winchilsea (1666-1720)