You took her thence; to Court this virgin brought,
  Dressed her with gems, new-weaved her hard-spun thought,
  And softest language sweetest manners taught;
  Till from a comet she a star did rise,
  Not to affright, but please, our wondering eyes.

Doubtless there were several critics of that period, who held the heretical opinion above expressed by Lee.  And the imitation was such as to warrant that conclusion, considering the school in which it was formed.  The scene of the consultation in Pandemonium, and of the soliloquy of Satan on his arrival in the newly-created universe, would possess great merit, did they not unfortunately remind us of the majestic simplicity of Milton.  But there is often a sort of Ovidian point in the diction which seems misplaced.  Thus, Asmodeus tells us, that the devils, ascending from the lake of fire,

  Shake off their slumber first, and next their fear.

And, with Dryden’s usual hate to the poor Dutchmen, the council of Pandemonium are termed,

  Most High and Mighty Lords, who better fell
  From heaven, to rise States General of hell.

There is one inconvenience, which, as this poem was intended for perusal only, the author, one would have thought, might have easily avoided.  This arises from the stage directions, which supply the place of the terrific and beautiful descriptions of Milton.  What idea, except burlesque, can we form of the expulsion of the fallen angels from heaven, literally represented by their tumbling down upon the stage? or what feelings of terror can be excited by the idea of an opera hell, composed of pasteboard and flaming rosin?  If these follies were not actually to be produced before our eyes, it could serve no good purpose to excite the image of them in our imaginations.  They are circumstances by which we feel, that scenic deception must be rendered ridiculous; and ought to be avoided, even in a drama intended for perusal only, since they cannot be mentioned without exciting ludicrous combinations.—­Even in describing the primitive state of our first parents, Dryden has displayed some of the false and corrupted taste of the court of Charles.  Eve does not consent to her union with Adam without coquettish apprehensions of his infidelity, which circumstances rendered rather improbable; and even in the state of innocence, she avows the love of sway and of self, which, in a loose age, is thought the principal attribute of her daughters.  It may be remembered that the Adam of Milton, when first experiencing the powers of slumber, thought,

  I then was passing to my former state
  Insensible, and forthwith to dissolve.

The Eve of Dryden expresses the same apprehensions of annihilation upon a very different occasion.  These passages form a contrast highly favourable to the simplicity and chastity of Milton’s taste.  The school logic, employed by Adam and the angels in the first scene of the fourth act, however misplaced, may be paralleled if not justified, by similar instances in the “Paradise Lost.”