By lively _Schemes_ the Mind to _Vertue_ forms,
And far beyond _unactive Precept_ warms.
The _Subject_ may 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