attempted, and ever unfuccefsfully by many Poets,) is only this: That it is a Propriety of Thoughts and Words; or in other Terms, Thoughts and Words, elegantly adapted to the Subject. If our Criticks will join iffue on this Definition, that we may convenire in aliquo tertio; if they will take it as a granted Principle, 'twill be eafie to put an end to this Difpute: No Man will difagree from another's Judgement, concerning the dignity of Style, in Heroick Poetry: But all reasonable Men will conclude it neceffary, that fublime Subjects ought to be adorn'd with the fublimeft, and (confequently often) with the most figurative Expreffions. In the mean time I will not run into their Fault of impofing my Opinions on other Men, any more than I would my Writings on their Tafte: I have only laid down, and that fuperficially enough, my present Thoughts; and fhall be glad to be taught better, by those who pretend to reform our Poetry.

THE

The firft Scene reprefents a Chaos, or a confus'd Mafs of Matter; the Stage is almost wholly dark: A Symphony of warlike Mufick is heard for fome time; then from the Heavens, (which are open'd) fall the rebellious Angels wheeling in the Air, and feeming transfix'd with Thunderbolts: The bottom of the Stage being open'd, receives the Angels, who fall out of fight. Tunes of Victory are play'd, and an Hymn fung; Angels difcover'd above, brandishing their Swords: The Mufick ceafing, and the Heavens being clos'd, the Scens Shifts, and on a fudden reprefents Hell: Part of the Scene is a Lake of Brimstone or rowling Fire; the Earth of a burnt colour: The fall'n Angels appear on the Lake, lying proftrate; a Tune of Horror and Lamentation is heard.

Lucifer raifing himself on the Lake.

LUCIFE R.

S this the Seat our Conqueror has given?
And this the Climate we must change for Hea

ven?

[got;

Thefe Regions and this Realm my Wars have

This mournful Empire is the Lofer's Lot:

In liquid Burnings, or on Dry to dwell,
Is all the fad Variety of Hell.

But fee, the Victor has recall'd, from far,
Th' avenging Storms, his Minifters of War:
His Shafts are spent, and his tir'd Thunders fleep;
Nor longer bellow thro' the boundless Deep.
Beft take th' Occafion, and these Waves forfake,
While time is giv'n. Ho, Afmoday, awake,
If thou art he: But ah! how chang'd from him,
Companion of my Arms! how wan! how dim!
How faded all thy Glories are! I fee

My felf too well, and my own Change, in thee.
Afmoday. Prince of the Thrones, who, in the Fields of
Led'ft forth th' imbattel'd Seraphim to fight,
Who fhook the Pow'r of Heavens eternal State,
Had broke it too, if not upheld by Fate;

But now those Hopes are fled: Thus low we lie,
Shut from his Day, and that contended Sky,
And loft, as far as heav'nly Forms can die;
Yet, not all perish'd: We defie him ftill,
And yet wage War, with our unconquer'd Will.
Lucif. Strength may return.

Am. Already of thy Virtue I partake,

Erected by thy Voice.

Lucif.

-See on the Lake

Our Troops like fcatter'd Leaves in Autumn lie:
First let us raife our felves, and feek the dry,
Perhaps more eafie dwelling.

-From the Beach,

[Light,

}

Afm. Thy well-known Voice the fleeping Gods will reach, And wake th' immortal Senfe which Thunders Noife Had quell'd, and Lightning deep had driv'n within 'em. Lucif. With Wings expanded wide, our felves we'll rear, And fly incumbent on the dusky Air: Hell, thy new Lord receive.

Heaven cannot envy me an Empire here.

[Both fly to dry Land. Afm. Thus far we have prevail'd; if that be Gain Which is but change of Place, not change of Pain. Now fummon we the reft.

Lucif. Dominions, Pow'rs, ye Chiefs of Heav'n's bright
(Of Heav'n, once yours; but now, in Battel, loft) [Huft,
Wake from your Slumber: Are your Beds of Down?
Sleep you fo eafie there? Or fear the Frown
Of him who threw you thence, and joys to fee
Your abject State confefs his Victory?

Rife, rife, ere from his Battlements he view
Your proftrate Poftures, and his Bolts renew,
To strike you deeper down.

Alm.

They wake, they hear, Shake off their Slumber firft, and next their Fear; And only for th' appointed Signal stay.

Lucif. Rife from the Flood, and hither wing your way. Moloch from the Lake.] Thine to command; our part 'tis to obey.

[The reft of the Devils rife up, and fly to the Land. Lucif. So, now we are our felves again, an Hoft Fit to tempt Fate, once more, for what we loft. T'o'erleap th' Etherial Fence, or if fo high We cannot climb, to undermine his Sky, And blow him up, who juftly Rules us now, Because more ftrong: Should he be forc'd to bow, The Right were ours again: 'Tis just to win The highest place; t'attempt, and fail, is Sin.

Mol. Chang'd as we are, we're yet from Homage free; We have, by Hell, at leaft, gain'd Liberty: That's worth our Fall; thus low tho' we are driven, Better to rule in Hell, than ferve in Heaven. Lucif. There fpoke the better half of Lucifer! Afm. Tis fit in frequent Senate we confer, And then determine how to steer our Course; To wage new War by Fraud, or open Force. The Doom's now paft; Submiffion were in vain. Mol. And, were it not, fuch Bafeness I difdain. I would not ftoop, to purchase all above;

And should contemn a Pow'r whom Pray'r could move,
As one unworthy to have conquer'd me.

Beelzebub, Moloch, in that, all are refolv'd like thee.
The means are unpropos'd; but 'tis not fit
Our dark Divan in publick view fhould fit:

Or what we plot against the Thunderer,
Th' ignoble Crowd of vulgar Devils hear.

Lucif. A golden Palace let be rais'd on high;
To imitate? No, to out-fhine the Sky!
All Mines are ours, and Gold above the reft;
Let this be done; and quick as 'twas expreft.
[A Palace rifes, where fit, as in Council, Lucifer, Afmoday,
Moloch, Belial, Beelzebub and Sathan.
Moft high and mighty Lords, who better fell
From Heav'n, to rife States-General of Hell,
Nor yet repent, tho' ruin'd and undone,
Our upper Provinces already won,
(Such Pride there is in Souls created free,
Such hate of univerfal Monarchy ;)
Speak, (for we therefore meet).

If Peace you chufe, your Suffrages declare ;
Or means propound, to carry on the War.

Mol. My Sentence is for War; that open too:
Unskili'd in Stratagems; plain Force I know:
Treaties are vain to Lofers; nor would we,
Should Heav'n grant Peace, fubmit to Sovereignty.
We can no caution give we will adore;
And he above is warn'd to trust no more.
What then remains but Battel?

Sathan. I agree,

With this brave Vote; and if in Hell there be
Ten more fuch Spirits, Heav'n is our own again:
We venture nothing, and may all obtain.
Yet who can hope but well, fince ev'n Succefs
Makes Foes fecure, and makes our Danger less.
Seraph, and Cherub, careless of their Charge,
And wanton, in full cafe now live at large;
Unguarded leave the Paffes of the Sky,
And all diffolv d in Hallelujahs lie.

Mol. Grant that our hazardous attempt prove vain;

We feel the worst, fecur'd from

greater Pain: Perhaps we may provoke the conqu❜ring Foe To make us nothing; yet, ev'n then, we know That not to be, is not to be in Woe.

}