Swell, bosom, with thy fraught,

For 't is of aspics' tongues!

William Shakespeare (1564-1616): Othello. Act iii. Sc. 3.

There was a sound of revelry by night,

And Belgium's capital had gather'd then

Her beauty and her chivalry, and bright

The lamps shone o'er fair women and brave men.

A thousand hearts beat happily; and when

Music arose with its voluptuous swell,

Soft eyes look'd love to eyes which spake again,

And all went merry as a marriage bell.

Lord Byron 1788-1824: Childe Harold's Pilgrimage. Canto iii. Stanza 21.

Could swell the soul to rage, or kindle soft desire.

John Dryden (1631-1701): Alexander's Feast. Line 160.