Date: 1712, 1796

"Unsteady nature, varying like the wind, / Hurries to each extreme th'unstable mind; / At sea becalm'd, we wish some brisker gales / Would on us rise, and fill our limber sails: / We have our wish; and straight our skiff is toss'd / So high, we are in danger to be lost."

— Ellwood, Thomas (1639-1713)

Date: 1715-1720

"'Tis however remarkable that his Fancy, which is every where vigorous, is not discover'd immediately at the beginning of his Poem in its fullest Splendor: It grows in the Progress both upon himself and others, and becomes on Fire like a Chariot-Wheel, by its own Rapidity."

— Pope, Alexander (1688-1744)

Date: 1718

"For from most Bodies, Dick, You know,/ Some little Bits ask Leave to flow; / And, as thro' these Canals They roll, / Bring up a Sample of the Whole. / Like Footmen running before Coaches, / To tell the Inn, what Lord approaches."

— Prior, Matthew (1664-1721)

Date: 1725

A poet shouldn't unfurl his sails in a gale of ungovernable rage

— Pitt, Christopher (1699-1748)

Date: 1729

"Like a frail bark thy weaken'd mind is tost, / Unsteer'd, unbalanc'd, till its wealth is lost."

— Savage, Richard (1697/8-1743)

Date: 1730

"Fancy, fair Mistress of the Poet's Mind, / For ever changing, yet, for ever kind; / Soft, o'er his Dreams, her formful Radiance shed, / And his rapt Soul thro' Heaven's thin Purlieus led; / Seated beside the Star-invading Dame, / Whose Steeds, Wind-footed, paw'd the lambent Flame, / High, as a W...

— Hill, Aaron (1685-1750)

Date: 1730

"Down from her Chariot light-wing'd Fancy flew, / And o'er him, loose, her Starry Mantle threw."

— Hill, Aaron (1685-1750)

Date: 1739

"Grace we implore; when Billows roll, / Grace is the Anchor of the Soul."

— Wesley, John and Charles

Date: 1742

"I wake, emerging from a sea of dreams / Tumultuous; where my wreck'd desponding thought, / From wave to wave of fancied misery, / At random drove, her helm of reason lost."

— Young, Edward (bap. 1683, d. 1765)

Date: 1742

"But their hearts wounded, like the wounded air, / Soon close; where pass'd the shaft, no trace is found. / As from the wing no scar the sky retains, / The parted wave no furrow from the keel, / So dies in human hearts the thought of death."

— Young, Edward (bap. 1683, d. 1765)