Date: 1755

"Thou, superior to the Frowns / Of Fate, can'st pour thy Sunshine o'er the Soul, / And brighten Woe to Rapture!"

— Brown, John (1715-1766)

Date: 1755

"But Tears of Joy: For I have seen ZAPHIRA, / And pour'd the Balm of Peace into her Breast"

— Brown, John (1715-1766)

Date: Performed Dec 1756, published 1757

"This fatal day stirs my time-settled sorrow, / Troubles afresh the fountain of my heart."

— Home, John (1722-1808)

Date: Performed Dec 1756, published 1757

"Time, that wears out the trace of deepest anguish, / As the sea smooths the prints made in the sand, / Has past o'er thee in vain."

— Home, John (1722-1808)

Date: Performed Dec 1756, published 1757

"Would thou wert not / Compos'd of grief and tenderness alone, / But had'st a spark of other passions in thee, / Pride, anger, vanity, the strong desire / Of admiration, dear to woman kind;/ These might contend with, and allay thy grief, / As meeting tides and currents smooth our firth."

— Home, John (1722-1808)

Date: Performed Dec 1756, published 1757

"Sadly he says, that pity is the best, / The noblest passion of the human breast: / For when its sacred streams the heart o'erflow, / In gushes pleasure with the tide of woe; / And when its waves retire, like those of Nile, / They leave behind them such a golden soil, / That there the virtues wit...

— Home, John (1722-1808)

Date: 1775

Love and fear may dry up "soft springs of pity" in the heart and freeze them

— Gray, Thomas (1716-1771)

Date: 1775

"But, O, my brother! if thou hast a heart / That is not steel'd with stoic apathy / Against the magic of all-conqu'ring love, / Beware of beauty's pow'r; for she has charms / Wou'd melt the frozen breast of hoary age, / Or draw the lonely hermit from his cell / To gaze upon her."

— Francklin, Thomas (1721-1784)

Date: 1800

"The mind that labours for a cure works ill / By feeding its own grief; wasting away / Like boiling waters in an useless struggle"

— Bidlake, John (1755-1814)

Date: 1848

A sword's point may be dipped in "the gloomy current of a traitor's heart"

— Keats, John (1795-1821)