Date: 1693

"Thy Soul retir'd to her inmost Room, / Dreading the Pressure of the Stroke to come"

— Hawkshaw, Benjamin (1671/2-1738)

Date: 1693

"And when a Soul of large Dimensions comes / T' inform the human flesh--compacted Rooms, / The gladsome Fabrick full of Beauty shows"

— Hawkshaw, Benjamin (1671/2-1738)

Date: 1693

"No, I will break this House of Clay, / Which clogs my fleeter Thoughts and Mind."

— Hawkshaw, Benjamin (1671/2-1738)

Date: 1693

"Condemn'd in this dark Prison must I here, / Watch till the Trumpet strike mine Ear? / Must I ne'er know thy Goodness and thy Love, / Because I did transgress thy Will above? / Must Clouds and Vapours still obscure my Mind?"

— Hawkshaw, Benjamin (1671/2-1738)

Date: 1693

"Some Glances of a State that's past I find, / Take up the Corners of my thoughtful Mind, / As cover'd Embers when they're blown, create / A Flame, and represent my former State."

— Hawkshaw, Benjamin (1671/2-1738)

Date: 1716

"If midst of Thoughts that crowd into thy Mind, / The Care of absent Friends a Place can find, / Retire a while from Warlike Noise and Throng / Into thy inmost Tent, and listen to my Song."

— Monck [née Molesworth], Mary (1677?-1715)

Date: 1733, 1748

Memory is a "Surprising storehouse! in whose narrow womb / All things, the past, the present, and to come, / Find ample space, and large and mighty room."

— Pilkington, Laetitia (c. 1709-1750)

Date: 1753

Man stole the "Mimic Arts at first from Heav'n ... To fill the fairest Mansions of the Soul"

— Jones, Henry (1721-1770)

Date: 1753

Locke's "guiding Hand th'ideal Blank explores, / And opens wide the Senses' various Doors, / Thro' which the thronging Thoughts their Passage find, / In social Tribes, and stock the peopled Mind."

— Jones, Henry (1721-1770)

Date: 1754

"O, come; indignant, drive out, far beyond/ The utmost Precincts of the human Breast, / Beyond the Springs of Hope, the Cells of Joy, / And ev'ry Mansion where a Virtue lives; / O drive far off, for ever drive that Bane, / That hideous Pest, engender'd deep in Hell, / Where Stygian Glooms condens...

— Jones, Henry (1721-1770)