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; } Disease and Death, the Goddess of the place, Death, the least frightful Form of all their Race; 840 Ambition, Pride, false Joys and Hopes as vain, Lewdness and Luxury compose her Train:  How large their Interest, and how vast their Sway Amid the wide invaded Realms of Day!