Date: 1743

"Some hearts, in secret hard, unapt to melt, / Struck by the magic of the public eye, / Like Moses' smitten rock, gush out amain."

— Young, Edward (bap. 1683, d. 1765)

Date: 1743

"Be, what thy Country was, when, haughty Spain, / Blushful in Blood, bewail'd Eliza's Reign. / Then, iron hearted Biscay shook, with Dread!"

— Hill, Aaron (1685-1750)

Date: 1743

"In the earthy furnace tried, / In the soul of fallen man, / Lo! as silver purified / All His promises remain."

— Wesley, John and Charles

Date: 1743

"Enthusiasts of all ages were ever, in their natural state, most heavy and lumpish; but on the least application of heat, they run like lead, which of all metals falls quickest into fusion. "

— Pope, Alexander (1688-1744)

Date: 1743

"With the same Cement [Authority], ever sure to bind, / We bring to one dead level ev'ry mind"

— Pope, Alexander (1688-1744)

Date: 1743

"Whereas fire in a Genius is truly Promethean, it hurts not its constituent parts, but only fits it (as it does well-tempered steel) for the necessary impressions of art."

— Pope, Alexander (1688-1744)

Date: 1744

"In short, Sir, Gold is the true Soul of the World, and the first Mover of all Things."

— Ralph, James (1705-1762); original author: Thomas Tomkis (f. 1604-1615)

Date: 1744

"Are there on earth (let me not call them men) / Who lodge a soul immortal in their breasts; / Unconscious as the mountain of its ore; / Or rock, of its inestimable gem? / When rocks shall melt, and mountains vanish, these / Shall know their treasure; treasure then no more.

— Young, Edward (bap. 1683, d. 1765)

Date: 1744, 1772, 1795

"'Twas thus, if ancient fame the truth unfold, / Two faithful needles, from the informing touch / Of the same parent-stone, together drew / Its mystic virtue, and at first conspir'd / With fatal impulse quivering to the pole."

— Akenside, Mark (1720-1771)

Date: 1744, 1772, 1795

"Passion's fierce illapse / Rouzes the mind's whole fabric; with supplies / Of daily impulse keeps the elastic powers / Intensely poiz'd, and polishes anew / By that collision all the fine machine: / Else rust would rise, and foulness, by degrees / Incumbering, choak at last what heaven design'd ...

— Akenside, Mark (1720-1771)