Date: 1755, 1771
"Were it not so, the soul, all dead and lost, / Like the tall cliff beneath the' impassive frost, / Form'd for no end, and impotent to please, / Would lie inactive on the couch of ease: / And, heedless of proud fame's immortal lay, / Sleep all her dull divinity away."
preview | full record— Cawthorn, James (1719-1761)
Date: 1792
"But souls in common are a dreary waste, / By brambles, thistles, barb'rous docks disgrac'd; / That need the ploughshare, harrow, and the fire--"
preview | full record— Wolcot, John, pseud. Peter Pindar, (1738-1819)