be either _feign'd_ or _true_,
_Too Old_ it should not be, but less _too New_:
_Narration_ mixt with _Action_ most delights,
_Intrigues_ and _Councils_, vary'd _Games_ and _Fights_:
Nothing so _long_ as may the Reader _tire_,
But all the just well-mingled _Scenes_ admire.
Your _Heroe_ may be _virtuous_, must be _brave_;
Nothing that's _mean_ should his great Soul enslave:
Yet Heav'ns unequal _Anger_ he may _fear_,
And for his _suffering Friends_ indulge a _Tear_:
Thus when the _Trojans Navy_ scatter'd lay
He _wept_, he _trembled_, and to Heav'n did _pray_;
But when bright _Glory beckon'd_ from afar,
And _Honour_ call'd him out to meet the _War_;
Like a fierce _Torrent_ pouring o'er the _Banks_,
Or _Mars_ himself, he _thunders_ through the _Ranks_;
_Death_ walks before, while he a _Foe_ could find, 810
_Horror_ and _Ruine_ mark long frightful _Lanes_ behind.
[Sidenote: _Machines_.]
For _worn_ and _old_ MACHINES few Readers care,
They're like the _Pastboard Chaos in the Fair_:
If ought surprizing you expect to shew,
The _Scenes_ if not the _Persons_ should be _new_:
With _both_ does MILTON'S wondrous Scheme begin,
The _Pandemonium, Chaos, Death_ and _Sin_;
Which _D----s_ had with like _Success_ assay'd, }
Had not the _Porch_ of _Death's Grim Court_ been made }
Too _wide_, and there th' impatient _Reader_ staid. } 820
And _G----h_, tho _barren_ is his _Theme_ and _mean_,
By this has _reach'd_ at least the fam'd _Lutrine_.
If _tir'd_ with such a plenteous _Feast_ you call
For a far meaner _Banquet_, _Meal_ and _Wall_;
The _best_ I have is _yours_, tho 'tis too _long_,
And what's behind will into _Corners_ throng.
A _Place_ there is, if _Place_ 'tis nam'd aright, }
Where scatter'd _Rays_ of pale and sickly _Light_, }
Fringe o'er the _Confines_ of _Eternal Night_. }
_Shorn_ of their _Beams_ the _Sun_ and _Phoebe_ here 830
Like the _fix'd Stars_, through _Glasses_ view'd, appear;
Or those faint _Seeds of Light_, which just display
Ambiguous Splendor round the _milky Way_;
The _Waste_ of _Chaos_, whose _Auguster_ Reign
Does those more barren doubtful Realms disdain:
Here dwell those _hideous Forms_ which oft repair }
To breath our upper _World's_ more _chearful_ Air }
Bleak _Envy_, grinding _Pain_, and meagre _Care_; }