Date: 1700, 1702

"Still dost thou melt my Soul with thy soft Images, / And make my Ruine pleasing?"

— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)

Date: 1700, 1702

"Love reigns my Tyrant, to himself alone / He vindicates the Empire of my Breast, / And banishes all Thoughts of Joy for ever."

— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)

Date: 1700, 1702

"O could I think that he had ever known / My hidden flame, shame and confusion / Would force my Virgin soul to leave her mansion, / And certain Death ensue."

— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)

Date: 1700, 1702

"But whither does my roving fancy wander?"

— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)

Date: 1700, 1702

"No! now she shoots her fires into my Breast, / She urges my Desires, and bids me seize thee."

— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)

Date: 1700, 1702

"What is the Soul of Man but Light, / Drawn down from thy transcendant height? / What but an Intellectual Beam? / A Spark of thy immortal Flame?"

— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)

Date: 1700, 1702

"And now like Oyl my flaming Spirits blaze; / My Arteries, my Heart, my Brain is scorch't, / And I am all one Fury."

— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)

Date: 1700, 1702

"Who made my Father be as he was, Royal, / And stamp't the Mark of Greatness on my Soul."

— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)

Date: 1700, 1702

"No! my disdainful Soul shall struggle out / And start at once from its dishonour'd Mansion."

— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)

Date: 1700, 1702

"This Gloom of horrid Night suits well my Soul, / Love, Sorrow, Conscious Worth, and Indignation, / Stir mad Confusion in my lab'ring Breast, / And I am all o're Chaos."

— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)