Date: January 29, 1737

"Nay, the Light of Reason, which we so much boast of, what is it but a Dark-Lanthorn, which just serves to keep us from running our Nose against a Post, perhaps; but is no more able to lead us out of the dark Mists of Error and Ignorance, in which we are lost, than an Ignis fatuus would be to co...

— Dodsley, Robert (1703-1764)

Date: 1739

"For, O Gustavus, / My Soul is dark, disconsolate and dark; / Sick to the World, and hateful to myself, / I have no Country now."

— Brooke, Henry (c. 1703-1783)

Date: 1743

"Love still nourishes [the heart] with a temperate Heat, as the Sun doth our Climate; and Beauties rise after Beauties in the one, just as Fruits do in the other"

— Fielding, Henry (1707-1754)

Date: 1745

"The Duties of his Day / Were all discharg'd, and gratefully enjoy'd / It's noblest Blessings; calm, as Evening Skies, / Was his pure Mind, and lighted up with Hopes / That open Heaven; when, for his last long Sleep / Timely prepar'd, a Lassitude of Life, / A pleasing Weariness of mortal Joy, / F...

— Thomson, James (1700-1748)

Date: 1755

"Thou, superior to the Frowns / Of Fate, can'st pour thy Sunshine o'er the Soul, / And brighten Woe to Rapture!"

— Brown, John (1715-1766)

Date: Performed Dec 1756, published 1757

"Clouds, all the while have hung upon thy brow, / Nor broke, nor parted by one gleam of joy."

— Home, John (1722-1808)

Date: Performed Dec 1756, published 1757

"Darkly a project peers upon my mind, / Like the red moon when rising in the east, / Cross'd and divided by strange-colour'd clouds."

— Home, John (1722-1808)

Date: 1759

"Support our virtue:--kindle in our souls / A ray of your divine enthusiasm; / Such as inflames the patriot's breast, and lifts / Th'impassion'd mind to that sublime of virtue, / That even on the rack it feels the good, / Which in a single hour it works for millions, / And leaves the legacy to af...

— Murphy, Arthur (1727-1805)

Date: 1759

"A more than midnight gloom involves my soul."

— Murphy, Arthur (1727-1805)

Date: 1759

"He smiles contempt; as if some inward joy, / Like the sun lab'ring in a night of clouds, / Shot forth its glad'ning unresisted beams, / Chearing the face of woe."

— Murphy, Arthur (1727-1805)