Date: 1702

"Witness the Blood / Which thro' successive Hero's Veins ally'd / To our Greek Emperors, roll'd down to me, / Feeds the bright Flame of Glory in my Heart."

— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)

Date: 1702

"When, as my Soul confest its Flame, and su'd / In moving Sounds for Pity, she frown'd rarely, / But, blushing, heard me tell the gentle Tale."

— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)

Date: 1700, 1702

"Revenge, and fierce Desires of Glory, cease / To urge my Passions, master'd by her Eyes; / And only gentle Fires now warm my Breast."

— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)

Date: 1700, 1702

"Yet for thy Sake, thou Idol of my Heart, / (Nor will I blush to own the sacred Flame, / Thy Sighs and Vows have kindled in my Breast) / For thy lov'd Sake, spight of my boding Fears, / I'll meet the Danger which Ambition brings, / And tread one Path with thee."

— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)

Date: 1700, 1702

"Then Memnon (at an Hour when few are Villains / The sprightly Juice infusing gentler Thoughts, / And kindling Love ev'n in the coldest Breasts,) / Unequal to him in the Face of War, / Stole on Celander with a Cowards Malice, / And struck him to the Heart."

— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)

Date: 1700, 1702

"Like thine, / Immortal Thirst of Empire fires my Soul, / My Soul, which of superiour Power impatient, / Disdains thy Eldership; therefore in Arms / (Which give the noblest Right to Kings) I will / To Death dispute with thee the Throne of Cyrus."

— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)

Date: 1700, 1702

"O could I think that he had ever known / My hidden flame, shame and confusion / Would force my Virgin soul to leave her mansion, / And certain Death ensue."

— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)

Date: 1700, 1702

"No! now she shoots her fires into my Breast, / She urges my Desires, and bids me seize thee."

— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)

Date: 1700, 1702

"What is the Soul of Man but Light, / Drawn down from thy transcendant height? / What but an Intellectual Beam? / A Spark of thy immortal Flame?"

— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)

Date: 1700, 1702

"And now like Oyl my flaming Spirits blaze; / My Arteries, my Heart, my Brain is scorch't, / And I am all one Fury."

— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)