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
"Force, and the Wills of our Imperious Rulers, / May bind two Bodies in one wretched Chain; / But Minds will still look back to their own Choice. / So the poor Captive in a Foreign Realm, / Stands on the Shoar, and sends his Wishes back / To the dear Native Land from whence he came."
preview | full record— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)
Date: 1703
"Now as thou art a Man, Horatio, tell me, / What means this wild Confusion in thy Looks? / As if thou wert at variance with thy self, / Madness and Reason combating within thee, / And thou wert doubtful which shou'd get the better."
preview | full record— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)
Date: 1703
"My fierce, ambitious Soul / Declining droops, and all her Fires grow pale; / Yet let not this Advantage swell thy Pride, / I Conquer'd in my turn, in Love I Triumph'd."
preview | full record— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)
Date: 1703
"Wou'd it were Death, as sure 'tis wond'rous like it, / For I am sick of Living, my Soul's pall'd, / She kindles not with Anger or Revenge; / Love was th'informing, active Fire within, / Now that is quench'd, the Mass forgets to move, / And longs to mingle with its kindred Earth."
preview | full record— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)
Date: 1703
"Thou know'st thy Rule, thy Empire in Horatio, / Nor canst thou ask in vain, command in vain, / Where Nature, Reason, nay where Love is Judge."
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: 1703
"A Flood of Tenderness comes o'er my Soul; / I cannot speak!--I love! forgive! and pity thee."
preview | full record— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)
Date: 1703
"I thought that nothing cou'd have stay'd my Soul, / That long e'er this her Flight had reach'd the Stars; / But thy known Voice has lur'd her back again."
preview | full record— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)
Date: 1703
"'Tis well! these Solemn Sounds, this Pomp of Horror, / Are fit to feed the Frenzy in my Soul, / Here's room for Meditation, ev'n to Madness, / 'Till the Mind burst with Thinking."
preview | full record— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)