Date: 1735

"Such was the Turn of thy exalted Mind, / Sparkling as polish'd Gems, as purest Gold refin'd."

— Hughes, John (1678?-1720)

Date: 1735

"Impenetrable Courage steels his manly Breast"

— Hughes, John (1678?-1720)

Date: 1735

"Her lovely Mind shines chearful thro' her Face, / A sacred Lamp in a fair Crystal Case."

— Hughes, John (1678?-1720)

Date: 1737 (also 1738, 1743, reprinted 1754)

"Curst with such souls of base alloy, / As can possess, but not enjoy, / Debarr'd the pleasure to impart / By av'rice, sphincter of the heart, / Who wealth, hard earn'd by guilty cares, / Bequeath untouch'd to thankless heirs."

— Green, Matthew (1696-1737)

Date: 1744, 1772, 1795

"'Twas thus, if ancient fame the truth unfold, / Two faithful needles, from the informing touch / Of the same parent-stone, together drew / Its mystic virtue, and at first conspir'd / With fatal impulse quivering to the pole."

— Akenside, Mark (1720-1771)

Date: 1744, 1772, 1795

"Passion's fierce illapse / Rouzes the mind's whole fabric; with supplies / Of daily impulse keeps the elastic powers / Intensely poiz'd, and polishes anew / By that collision all the fine machine: / Else rust would rise, and foulness, by degrees / Incumbering, choak at last what heaven design'd ...

— Akenside, Mark (1720-1771)

Date: 1744, 1772, 1795

"These the part / Perform of eager monitors, and goad / The soul more sharply than with points of steel, / Her enemies to shun or to resist."

— Akenside, Mark (1720-1771)

Date: 1788

"For Virtue, with divine controul, / Collects the various powers of soul; / And lends, from her unsullied source, / The gems of thought their purest force."

— Williams, Helen Maria (1759-1827)

Date: 1788

"True courage in the unconquer'd soul / Yields to Compassion's mild controul; / As, the resisting frame of steel / The magnet's secret force can feel."

— Williams, Helen Maria (1759-1827)

Date: 1788

"Or, if where savage habit steels / The vulgar mind, one bosom feels / The sacred claim of helpless woe-- / If Pity in that soil can grow; / Pity! whose tender impulse darts / With keenest force on nobler hearts; / As flames that purest essence boast, / Rise highest when they tremble most."

— Williams, Helen Maria (1759-1827)