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: 1697
"Our Senses to the Mind while lodg'd in Clay, / Do all their various Images convey. / Things that we tast, and feel, and see, afford / The Seeds of Thought with which our Minds are stor'd."
preview | full record— Blackmore, Sir Richard (1654-1729)
Date: 1700
"He oft reflected on the sacred Guest, / Which had her fixt abode within his Breast, / And in his Works her God-like Form exprest."
preview | full record— Blackmore, Sir Richard (1654-1729)
Date: 1705
"It did the curious Instruments confound, / And all the winding Labarynths of Sound, / The charming Musick-Rooms, that entertain / The Soul high seated in her Throne the Brain."
preview | full record— Blackmore, Sir Richard (1654-1729)
Date: 1705
A bullet may efface "The num'rous Lodgings, which did entertain / All Mem'ry's crowded Guests, and Fancy's aeiry Train."
preview | full record— Blackmore, Sir Richard (1654-1729)
Date: 1711
"These active Liquors, which Admission find / Thro' the strait Paths, and leave the coarse behind, / Swift to the inmost Rooms their Passage beat, / And crowd around the Soul's Imperial Seat."
preview | full record— Blackmore, Sir Richard (1654-1729)
Date: 1722
"[W]ho can tell / How each [image] awaken'd from its little cell / Starts forth, and how the soul's command it hears / And soon on fancy's theatre appears?"
preview | full record— Blackmore, Sir Richard (1654-1729)
Date: 1723
"The Cells, and little Lodgings, Thou canst see / In Mem'ry's Hoards and secret Treasury; / Dost the dark Cave of each Idea spy, / And see'st how rang'd the crouded Lodgers lye; / How some, when beckon'd by the Soul, awake, / While peaceful Rest their uncall'd Neighbours take."
preview | full record— Blackmore, Sir Richard (1654-1729)