Date: 1701
"Conceit, like Wind, has seiz'd the empty Head, and Men convulsively strive to utter what they want a Fund of Brains to yeild."
preview | full record— Baker, Thomas (b. 1680-1)
Date: 1701
"Confusions! Noises! That teaze Retirement, and only eccho in an empty Head."
preview | full record— Baker, Thomas (b. 1680-1)
Date: 1703
"My Father! oh let me unlade my Breast, / Pour out the fullness of my Soul before you, / Show ev'ry tender, ev'ry grateful Thought, / This wond'rous Goodness stirs."
preview | full record— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)
Date: 1703
"It were unjust, no let me spare my Friend, / Lock up the fatal Secret in my Breast, / Nor tell him that which will undo his Quiet."
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)
Date: 1703
"Because my Soul was rudely drawn from yours; / A poor imperfect Copy of my Father, / Where Goodness, and the strength of manly Virtue, / Was thinly planted, and the idle Void / Fill'd up with light Belief, and easie Fondness; / It was, because I lov'd, and was a Woman."
preview | full record— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)
Date: 1706
"'Till then be kind, and leave me to my self; / Leave me to vent the Fulness of my Breast, / Pour out the Sorrows of my Soul alone, / And sigh my self, if possible, to Peace."
preview | full record— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)
Date: 1707
"Lost in Labyrinths of Love, / My Breast with hoarded Vengeance burns, / While Fear and Rage / With Hope engage, / And rule my wav'ring Soul by turns."
preview | full record— Addison, Joseph (1672-1719)
Date: November 25, 1707; 1708
"Hell trembles at the Sight, and hides its Head / In utmost Darkness, while on Earth each Heart, / Like mine, is fill'd with Peace and Joy unutterable."
preview | full record— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)
Date: November 25, 1707; 1708
"Find out, my Soul, in thy rich Store of Thought, / Somewhat more Great, more Worthy of thy self; / Or let the mimick Fancy shew its Art, / And paint some pleasing Image to delight me."
preview | full record— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)