Date: 1742

"How, like a worm, was I wrapt round and round / In silken thought, which reptile Fancy spun, / Till darken'd Reason lay quite clouded o'er / With soft conceit of endless comfort here, / Nor yet put forth her wings to reach the skies!"

— Young, Edward (bap. 1683, d. 1765)

Date: 1742

"So bounded are its haughty lord's delights / To Woe's wide empire; where deep troubles toss, / Loud sorrows howl, envenom'd passions bite, / Ravenous calamities our vitals seize, / And threatening fate wide opens to devour."

— Young, Edward (bap. 1683, d. 1765)

Date: 1742

"But their hearts wounded, like the wounded air, / Soon close; where pass'd the shaft, no trace is found. / As from the wing no scar the sky retains, / The parted wave no furrow from the keel, / So dies in human hearts the thought of death."

— Young, Edward (bap. 1683, d. 1765)

Date: 1742

"My soul is dead, my heart is stone, / A cage of birds and beasts unclean, / A den of thieves, a dire abode / Of dragons, but no house of God."

— Wesley, John and Charles

Date: 1742

"Carnal heart, immersed in sin, / All a cage of birds unclean!"

— Wesley, John and Charles

Date: 1743

"Where'er we turn, by Fancy charmed, we find / Some sweet illusion of the cheated mind. / Oft, wild of wing, she calls the soul to rove / With humbler nature in the rural grove."

— Collins, William (1721-1759)

Date: 1743

"Pride, like an eagle, builds among the stars; / But Pleasure, lark-like, nests upon the ground."

— Young, Edward (bap. 1683, d. 1765)

Date: 1743

"The noblest spirit, fighting her hard fate / In this damp, dusky region, charged with storms, / But feebly flutters, yet untaught to fly; / Or, flying, short her flight, and sure her fall."

— Young, Edward (bap. 1683, d. 1765)

Date: 1743

"The bad, on each punctilious pique of Pride, / Or gloom of Humour, would give Rage the rein, / Bound o'er the barrier, rush into the dark, / And mar the schemes of Providence below."

— Young, Edward (bap. 1683, d. 1765)

Date: 1743

"My heart and flesh cry out for God: / There would I fix my soul's abode, / As birds that in the altars nest."

— Wesley, John and Charles