Date: 1700, 1702

"Like thine, / Immortal Thirst of Empire fires my Soul, / My Soul, which of superiour Power impatient, / Disdains thy Eldership; therefore in Arms / (Which give the noblest Right to Kings) I will / To Death dispute with thee the Throne of Cyrus."

— 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

"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

"And all fires those that lighted up my Soul / Glory and bright Ambition languish now, / And leave me dark and gloomy as the Grave."

— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)

Date: 1703

"If any Spark from Heav'n remain unquench'd / Within her Breast, my Breath perhaps may wake it; / Cou'd I but prosper there, I wou'd not doubt / My Combat with that loud vain-glorious Boaster."

— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)

Date: 1703

"My fierce, ambitious Soul / Declining droops, and all her Fires grow pale; / Yet let not this Advantage swell thy Pride, / I Conquer'd in my turn, in Love I Triumph'd."

— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)

Date: 1703

"Wou'd it were Death, as sure 'tis wond'rous like it, / For I am sick of Living, my Soul's pall'd, / She kindles not with Anger or Revenge; / Love was th'informing, active Fire within, / Now that is quench'd, the Mass forgets to move, / And longs to mingle with its kindred Earth."

— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)

Date: 1706

"And therefore wert thou bred to virtuous Knowledge, / And Wisdom early planted in thy Soul; / That thou might'st know to rule thy fiery Passions, / To bind their Rage, and stay their headlong Course."

— Rowe, Nicholas (1674-1718)