Date: 1715
"Musick's the Spring made by Divinest Art, / To move the Vital Machine of Man's Heart, / And circulate with Pow'r thro' ev'ry Part."
preview | full record— Oldisworth, William (1680-1734)
Date: 1715-1720
"He weighs everything in the balance of Reason; he sets before himself the Baseness of Flight, and the Courage of his Enemy, till at last the thirst of Glory preponderates all other Considerations."
preview | full record— Pope, Alexander (1688-1744)
Date: April 13, 1715
"Then do ten Thousand Ideas crowd into my Brain, and offer me Subjects for eternal Imprecations; and 'tis Forty to One if I don't begin and rant tragically to my self in some of Lee's or Otway's Elegancies."
preview | full record— Theobald, Lewis (1688-1744)
Date: 1715
"Close, like a Dragon folded in his Den, / Some secret Venom preys upon his Heart."
preview | full record— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)
Date: 1715
"Tho' sure the Loss / Wou'd wound me to the Heart."
preview | full record— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)
Date: 1715
"Thy gentle Temper, / Is form'd with Passions mixt in due Proportion, / Where no one overbears nor plays the Tyrant, / But join in Nature's Business, and thy Happiness: / While mine disdaining Reason and her Laws, / Like all thou can'st imagine wild and furious, / Now drive me head-long on, now w...
preview | full record— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)
Date: 1715
"I'll summon all my Reason and my Duty, / To sooth this Storm within, and frame my Heart, / To yield Obedience to my noble Parents."
preview | full record— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)
Date: 1715
"My Fancy palls, and takes Distast at Pleasure; / My Soul grows out of Tune, it loaths the World, / Sickens at all the Noise and Folly of it."
preview | full record— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)
Date: 1715
"Oh! Pembroke, 'tis in vain to hide from thee; / For thou hast look'd into my artless Bosom, / And seen at once the Hurry of my Soul."
preview | full record— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)
Date: 1715
I have a Thought--but wherefore said I one, / I have a thousand Thoughts all up in Arms, / Like populous Towns disturb'd at dead of Night, / That mixt in Darkness bustle to and fro, / As if their Business were to make Confusion.
preview | full record— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)