Date: 1703
"She's here! yet oh! my Tongue is at a loss, / Teach me, some Pow'r, that happy Art of Speech, / To dress my Purpose up in gracious Words; / Such as may softly steal upon her Soul, / And never waken the Tempestuous Passions."
preview | full record— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)
Date: 1703
"Sorrow, Remorse, and Shame, have torn my Soul, / They hang like Winter on my Youthful Hopes, / And blast the Spring and Promise of my Year."
preview | full record— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)
Date: 1714
"Was our Reason given / For such a Use! to be thus puff'd about / Like a dry Leaf, an idle Straw, a Feather, / The Sport of every whifling Blast that blows?"
preview | full record— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)
Date: 1724
"Your passions late were wing'd, like vengeful whirlwinds, / Now they sink, sighing, to a gale of sorrow!"
preview | full record— Savage, Richard (1697/8-1743)
Date: 1731
"Shalt thou inflame me thus,--Unseat my Soul; / Tear out wrong'd Patience from my bleeding Heart, / And work me into Tempest!"
preview | full record— Hill, Aaron (1685-1750)