Date: 1762

"Yet, if too soon this transient Pleasure fly, / A Charm more lasting shall the Loss supply: / While Harmony, with each attractive Grace, / Plays in the fair Proportions of her Face; / Where each soft Air, engaging and serene, / Beats Measure to the well-tun'd Mind within."

— Carter, Elizabeth (1717-1806)

Date: 1762

"Whence Order, Elegance, and Beauty move / Each finer sense, that tunes the Mind to Love; / Whence all that Harmony and Fire that join, / To form a Temper, and a Soul like thine."

— Carter, Elizabeth (1717-1806)

Date: w. 1748, 1762

"Vain is alike the Joy we seek, / And vain what we possess, / Unless harmonious Reason tunes / The Passions into Peace."

— Carter, Elizabeth (1717-1806)

Date: w. 1748, 1762

"To temper'd Wishes, just Desires, / Is happiness confin'd, / And deaf to Folly's Call, attends / The Music of the mind."

— Carter, Elizabeth (1717-1806)

Date: 1762

Friendship her soft harmonious Touch affords, / And gently strikes the sympathetic Chords, / Th' agreeing Notes in social Measures roll, / And the sweet Concert flows from Soul to Soul."

— Carter, Elizabeth (1717-1806)

Date: 1762

"Where, to the Beam of intellectual Day, / The genuine Charms of moral Beauty play: / With pleasing Force the strong Attractions move / Each finer Sense, and tune it into Love."

— Carter, Elizabeth (1717-1806)

Date: 1766

"Mute is each Syren Passion's faithless song / Check'd and suspended by the solemn scene: / Mute the wild clamours of the giddy throng, / And only heard the "still small voice" within."

— Carter, Elizabeth (1717-1806)

Date: 1773

"Smooth like her verse her passions learned to move, / And her whole soul was harmony and love."

— Barbauld, Anna Letitia [née Aikin] (1743-1825)

Date: 1777, 1810

"When thus, by prospect, and by thought, / My mind to harmony is wrought; / Already conscious of the rising strain, / The path to Knighton I regain."

— Stockdale, Percival (1736-1811)

Date: 1780, 1781, 1788

"Thy simple diction, free from glaring art, / With sweet allurement steals upon the heart, / Pure, as the rill, that Nature's hand refines; / Clear, as thy harmony of soul, it shines."

— Hayley, William (1745-1820)