Date: 1744, 1772, 1795

"Then the inexpressive strain / Diffuses its inchantment: fancy dreams / Of sacred fountains and Elysian groves, / And vales of bliss: the intellectual power / Bends from his awful throne a wondering ear, / And smiles: the passions, gently sooth'd away, / Sink to divine repose, and love and joy /...

— Akenside, Mark (1720-1771)

Date: 1744, 1772, 1795

"Else wherefore burns / In mortal bosoms this unquenched hope, / That breathes from day to day sublimer things, / And mocks possession?"

— Akenside, Mark (1720-1771)

Date: 1744, 1772, 1795

"But beyond / This energy of truth, whose dictates bind / Assenting reason, the benignant sire, / To deck the honour'd paths of just and good, / Has added bright imagination's rays."

— Akenside, Mark (1720-1771)

Date: 1744, 1772, 1795

"For man loves knowledge, and the beams of truth / More welcome touch his understanding's eye, / Than all the blandishments of sound his ear, / Than all of taste his tongue."

— Akenside, Mark (1720-1771)

Date: 1744, 1772, 1795

"Of good and evil much, / And much of mortal man my thought revolv'd; / When starting full on fancy's gushing eye / The mournful image of Parthenia's fate, / That hour, o long belov'd and long deplor'd."

— Akenside, Mark (1720-1771)

Date: 1744, 1772, 1795

"Hitherto the stores, / Which feed thy mind and exercise her powers, / Partake the relish of their native soil, / Their parent earth."

— Akenside, Mark (1720-1771)

Date: 1745

"'Deep are the Wounds that plough the guilty Mind, / 'Nor golden Crowns the rising Pang can quell."

— Mendez, Moses (d. 1758); Gil Blas [Alain-René Lesage] (1668-1747)

Date: 1745

"'Tis Pride, or Emptiness, applies the straw / That tickles little minds to mirth effuse; / Of grief approaching, the portentous sign!"

— Young, Edward (bap. 1683, d. 1765)

Date: 1746, 1749

"For the hurt Eye an instant Cure you find; Then why neglect, for Years, the sickening Mind?"

— Francis, Philip (1708-1773)

Date: 1746, 1793

"Yet, could'st thou in that dreadful hour, / On my rack'd soul all Lethe pour, / Or fan me with the gelid breeze, / That chains in ice th' indignant seas."

— Blacklock, Thomas (1721-1791)