Date: 1700

"My Thoughts should like their Silver Fishes shine, / With quick, bright glitterings thro' each moving line."

— Hopkins, John (b. 1675)

Date: w. 1702-1713, 1989

"So the brave Falcon when its glorys fade / When its strong wings their generous forces shed / The vacant holds ignobler birds supply / With Ravens feathers impd she mounts on high / & weak or giddy strayes along the sky."

— Parnell, Thomas (1679-1718)

Date: 1716

"My ravish'd Heart strait like a Bird of Prey / Stoop'd at the Lure; And thus my early Youth / Was by vain Thoughts bewildred and mis-led."

— Monck [née Molesworth], Mary (1677?-1715)

Date: March 13, 1727

"Must these like empty shadows pass, / Or forms reflected from a glass? / Or mere chimeras in the mind, / That fly, and leave no marks behind?"

— Swift, Jonathan (1667-1745)

Date: 1731

"Here Arlington, thy mighty Mind disdains / Inferior Earth, and breaks its servile Chains, / Aloft on Contemplations Wings you rise, / Scorn all below and mingle with the Skies."

— Boyse, Samuel (1708-1749)

Date: 1755

The "busy Statesman's mind" may grow putrid on the throne of power so that "Fresh vices spring up ev'ry hour; / As in dead corses serpents breed, / And loathsome, on corruption feed"

— Derrick, Samuel (1724-1769)

Date: 1762

"Therefore, I have no one notion, / That is not form'd, like the designing / Of the peristaltick motion; / Vermicular; twisting and twining; / Going to work / Just like a bottle-skrew upon a cork."

— Sterne, Laurence (1713-1768)

Date: 1767

"Man in this world, Sir, may be compared to a hackney-coach upon a stand; continually subject to be drawn by his unruly appetites, on one foolish jaunt or another; but you will say, if his appetites are horses, which as it were drag him along, reason is the coachman to rule those horses--But, Sir...

— Bickerstaff, Isaac (b. 1733, d. after 1808)

Date: 1772

Fancy may "mount the rapid Car, / And Judgement hold the Reins"

— Whyte, Samuel (1733-1811)

Date: 1767, 1778

"Envy in courts and cottages will dwell, / Nay climb to heaven itself, tho' born in hell: / In every living bosom lurks this pest, / But reigns unrival'd in the human breast; / On reason's throne usurps a thorny part, / And plants a thousand daggers in the heart."

— Jones, Henry (1721-1770)