Date: 1702
"Love, Sorrow, and the Sting of vile Reproach, / Succeeding one another in their Course, / Like Drops of Eating Water on the Marble, / At length have worn my boasted Courage down."
preview | full record— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)
Date: 1702
"For oh! My faithful Haly, / Another Care has taken up thy Master; / Spight of the high-wrought Tempest in my Soul, / Spight of the Pangs, which Jealousy has cost me; / This haughty Woman reigns within my Breast: / In vain I strive to put her from my Thoughts, / To drive her out with Empire, and ...
preview | full record— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)
Date: 1702
"A Flood of Passion rises in my Breast, / And labours fiercely upward to my Eyes."
preview | full record— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)
Date: 1702
"My Heart beats higher, and my nimble Spirits / Ride swiftly thro' their purple Channels round: / 'Tis the last blaze of Life: Nature revives / Like a dim, winking Lamp, that flashes brightly / With parting Light, and strait is dark for ever."
preview | full record— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)
Date: 1700, 1702
"So was the Monarchs heart for passion moulded, / So apt to take at first the soft impression."
preview | full record— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)
Date: 1700, 1702
"Each busie thought, that rouls within her breast, / Labours for him; the King, when first he sicken'd, / Declar'd he should succeed him in the Throne."
preview | full record— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)
Date: 1700, 1702
"At his arrival here I'll visit him; / Whence this Advantage may at least be made, / To ford his shallow Soul."
preview | full record— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)
Date: 1700, 1702
"Her thoughtful Soul, labours with some event / Of high import, which bustles like an Embryo / In its dark Room, and longs to be disclos'd."
preview | full record— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)
Date: 1700, 1702
"Wise Mirza! were my Soul a Temple, fit For Gods, and Godlike Counsels to inhabit, Thee only would I choose of all Mankind, To be the Priest, still favour'd with access."
preview | full record— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)
Date: 1700, 1702
"My Son shall breathe so warm a gale of sighs, / As shall dissolve those Isicles, that hang / Like death about her heart."
preview | full record— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)