Date: 1717, 1736
"Like Eastern Kings a lazy state they keep, / And close confin'd in their own palace sleep."
preview | full record— Pope, Alexander (1688-1744)
Date: 1717, 1736
"As into air the purer spirits flow, / And sep'rate from their kindred dregs below; / So flew the soul to its congenial place"
preview | full record— Pope, Alexander (1688-1744)
Date: 1713, 1719
"This Fancy having once taken Root, grew apace, and branch'd it self forth into a thousand vain Conceits."
preview | full record— Barker, Jane (1675-1743)
Date: 1713, 1719
"Thus my Thoughts play'd at Racket, and seldom minded the Line of Reason"
preview | full record— Barker, Jane (1675-1743)
Date: 1713, 1719
"[M]y Mind labour'd under a perpetual shaking Palsy of Hope and Fear; my whole Interiour was nothing but Distraction and Uncertainty"
preview | full record— Barker, Jane (1675-1743)
Date: 1713, 1719
"Thus I ran Divisions in my Fancy, which made but harsh Musick to my Interiour"
preview | full record— Barker, Jane (1675-1743)
Date: 1713, 1719
"It is this reserv'd Mein, Madam, which has often deter'd me, and commanded my Tongue to a respectful Silence; whilst my poor Heart, overcharg'd with Passion, only eas'd it self with Sighs, and my Looks were the only Language whereby to express my interior Thoughts"
preview | full record— Barker, Jane (1675-1743)
Date: 1713, 1719
"For in our Youth we commonly dress our Thoughts in the Mirrour of Self-Flattery, and expect that Heaven, Fortune, and the World, should cajole our Follies, as we do our own, and lay all Faults on others, and all Praise on our selves."
preview | full record— Barker, Jane (1675-1743)
Date: 1723
In one's Garret-Closet one's Muse may "take Possession": "Poetry being one of those subtle Devils, that if driven out by never so many firm Purposes, good Resolutions, Aversion to that Poverty it intails upon its Adherents; yet it will always return and find a Passage to the Heart, Brain, ...
preview | full record— Barker, Jane (1675-1743)
Date: 1723
"Cease, prithee, Muse, thus to infest / The barren Region of my Breast, / Which never can an Harvest yield, / Since Weeds of Noise o'er-run the Field."
preview | full record— Barker, Jane (1675-1743)