Date: 1724

"Your passions late were wing'd, like vengeful whirlwinds, / Now they sink, sighing, to a gale of sorrow!"

— Savage, Richard (1697/8-1743)

Date: Monday, May 25, 1724

"The Mind of Will. Weathercock is like the Sail of a great Ship, that has Room, to contain much Wind; but, having none, of its own producing, is swell'd out, by Turns, from all the Quarters of the Compass."

— Hill, Aaron (1685-1750)

Date: Monday, June 15. 1724.

"But his Mind was so discompos'd, by a Tempest of ungovern'd Wishes, that he scarce knew what to chuse, even when his Choice was the Subject chosen!"

— Hill, Aaron (1685-1750)

Date: Friday, July 10, 1724.

"Passion's wild Influence ebb'd, and flow'd, my Mind; / As Seas drive diff'rent, with the changing Wind."

— Hill, Aaron (1685-1750)

Date: 1724

"Reflection your Renown, clear as your Conscience; / The stormy Passions of your Soul, allay'd / By Reason to soft Gales, serenely playing / On the full Current of your youthful Blood, / By Nature and Occasion smoothly led / Through a fair Field of Royal Virtues, fruitful / In great Examples, and...

— Jeffreys, George (1678-1755)

Date: Monday, July 13, 1724

"Oh, Jealousy!--All other Storms are Calms / To Thee!--Thou Conflagration of the Soul!"

— Hill, Aaron (1685-1750)

Date: 1725-6

"Thrice thro' my arms she slipt like empty wind' [...] This passage plainly shews that the vehicles of the departed were believ'd by the Antients to be of an aerial substance, and retain nothing of corporeal grossness"

— Pope, Alexander (1688-1744), Broome, W. and Fenton, E.

Date: 1725-6

"Tax not, (the heav'n-illumin'd Seer rejoin'd) / Of rage, or folly, my prophetic mind, / No clouds of error dim th' etherial rays, / Her equal pow'r each faithful sense obeys. "

— Pope, Alexander (1688-1744), Broome, W. and Fenton, E.

Date: 1725-6

"As o'er her young the mother-mastiff growls, / And bays the stranger groom: so wrath comprest / Recoiling, mutter'd thunder in his breast."

— Pope, Alexander (1688-1744), Broome, W. and Fenton, E.

Date: 1725-6

"Thus anchor'd safe on reason's peaceful coast, / Tempests of wrath his soul no longer tost; / Restless his body rolls, to rage resign'd: / As one who long with pale-ey'd famine pin'd, / The sav'ry cates on glowing embers cast / Incessant turns, impatient for repast"

— Pope, Alexander (1688-1744), Broome, W. and Fenton, E.