Date: 1709, 1810
"Yet the silly wand'ring mind, / Loth to be too much confin'd, / Roves and takes her daily tours, / Coasting round the narrow shores, / Narrow shores of flesh and sense, / Picking shells and pebbles thence: / Or she sits at fancy's door, / Calling shapes and shadows to her, / Foreign visits still...
preview | full record— Watts, Isaac (1674-1748)
Date: 1709, 1810
"Never, never would she [the mind] buy / Indian dust, or Tyrian dye, / Never trade abroad for more, / If she saw her native store, / If her inward worth were known / She might ever live alone."
preview | full record— Watts, Isaac (1674-1748)
Date: 1709
"Crown me, and call the world my own, / The gold that binds my brows could ne'er my soul confine."
preview | full record— Watts, Isaac (1674-1748)
Date: 1714, 1735
" What cruel Dæmon haunts my tortur'd Mind? / Sure, if 'twere Love, I shou'd th'Invader find;"
preview | full record— Hughes, John (1678?-1720)
Date: 1734
"Search well, my soul, thro' all the dark recesses / Of nature and self-love, the plies, the folds, / And hollow winding caverns of the heart, / Where flattery hides our sins."
preview | full record— Watts, Isaac (1674-1748)
Date: 1734
"What worlds of worth lay crowded in that breast!"
preview | full record— Watts, Isaac (1674-1748)
Date: 1734
"Hail, holy souls, no more confin'd / To limbs and bones that clog the mind; / Ye have escap'd the snares, and left the chains behind."
preview | full record— Watts, Isaac (1674-1748)
Date: 1734
"If I but close my eyes, strange images / In thousand forms and thousand colours rise, / Stars, rainbows, moons, green dragons, bears and ghosts, / An endless medley rush upon the stage, / And dance and riot wild in reason's court / Above control."
preview | full record— Watts, Isaac (1674-1748)
Date: 1734
"Is then my heart to all the world beside / Softer than melting wax or summer snow, / But to myself harder than adamant?"
preview | full record— Watts, Isaac (1674-1748)
Date: 1734
"I'm in a raging storm, / Where seas and skies are blended, while my soul / Like some light worthless chip of floating cork / Is tost from wave to wave."
preview | full record— Watts, Isaac (1674-1748)