Date: 1739

"Ye Angels speak! / For ye alone are like her; or present / Such Visions pictur'd to the nightly Eye / Of Fancy trans'd in Bliss."

— Brooke, Henry (c. 1703-1783)

Date: 1739

"How poor thy Pow'r, how empty is thy Happiness, / When such a Wretch, as I appear to be, / Can ride thy Temper, harrow up thy Form, / And stretch thy Soul upon the Rack of Passion."

— Brooke, Henry (c. 1703-1783)

Date: 1739

"List, list, my Lord! / While thus his Soul's unseated, shook by Passion, / Cou'd we engage him to betray Gustavus."

— Brooke, Henry (c. 1703-1783)

Date: 1739

"I know thou hast a serpentizing Genius, / Can'st wind the subtlest Mazes of the Soul, / And trace her Wand'rings to the Source of Action."

— Brooke, Henry (c. 1703-1783)

Date: 1739

"At such a Time, it was, it was too much! / To pluck the soaring Pinion of my Soul, / While Eagle-ey'd she held her Flight to Heav'n, / O'er Pain and Death triumphant!"

— Brooke, Henry (c. 1703-1783)

Date: 1739

"The Sense but to have sav'd that wond'rous Man, / Is still a smiling Cherub in my Breast, / And whispers Peace within."

— Brooke, Henry (c. 1703-1783)

Date: 1739

"Where lives the Man whose Reason slumbers not?"

— Brooke, Henry (c. 1703-1783)

Date: 1739

"A gen'rous Mind, tho' sway'd a-while by Passion. / Is like the steely Vigour of the Bow, / Still holds its native Rectitude, and bends / But to recoil more forceful."

— Brooke, Henry (c. 1703-1783)

Date: 1739

"Thus, thus to be driven out from my own Breast! / To have no Shed, no shelt'ring Nook at Home / To take Reflection in!"

— Brooke, Henry (c. 1703-1783)

Date: 1739

"How looks the Wretch / Whose Heart cries Villain to itself? I'll not / Endure its Batt'ry."

— Brooke, Henry (c. 1703-1783)