We've not a _surer_ or a _stronger Friend_. Now shall she _broad_ and _open_ to the Skie, Now _close_ behind some _double Meaning_ lye; Now with _sulphureous Rivers_ lave the _French_, And choak th' _Assailants_ with infernal _Stench_; Each nicer _Vertue_ from the _Walls_ repel, 910 And _Heav'n_ it self regale with the Perfumes of _Hell_. This from the World our dreaded _Foe_ will drive, As _murm'ring Bees_ are forc'd to leave their _Hive_; _Souls_ so _refin'd_ such _Vapours_ cannot bear, But seek their _native Heav'n_ and purer Air: When _She_ and all her heav'nly _Guards_ are gone And her bright _Heroe_ absent, all's our own: If any _pious Fools_ should make a stand, To stop our _Progress_ through the conquer'd Land, They soon shall pass for _hot-brain'd Visionairs_, 920 We'll run 'em down with _Ridicule_ and _Farce_. Must they _reform_ the World! A likely _Task_! Tis _Vizard_ all, and them we'll soon _unmask_. The rest will _tumble_ in, or if they stay And loiter in _Damnation's_ ample Way, I've one _Expedient_ left, which can't but take, My last _Reserve_; From yon black _brimstone_ Lake, Whence two _Canals_ thro _subterranean Veins_ Are drawn to _Sodom_ and _Campania's_ Plains, My self I'll fill a _Vial_, and infuse 930 My very Soul amid the _potent Juice_: This _Essence_ near my _Heart_ I'll with me bear, } And this among my _dearest Fav'rites_ share, } Already _tutor'd_ by the _Theatre_; } Who pass'd those _Bugbears Conscience, Law_ and _Shame_ Have there been taught that _Virtue's_ but a _Name_: _Exalted Souls_ who _vulgar Sins_ despise; Fit for some _new discover'd_ nobler _Vice_; One _Drop_ of this their _frozen Blood_ shall warm, And _frighted Nature's feebler Guards_ disarm 930 Till their _chill Veins_ with hotter _Fevers_ glow } Than any _Etna_ or _Vesuvius_ know, } Scarce equal'd by their _Parent Flames_ below; } Till wide around the _gen'rous Canker_ spread, And _Vengeance_ draw on each _devoted Head_: Impatient _Heav'n_ it self our _Arms_ shall join, The _Skies_ again with _forky Lightnings_ shine; Till glutted _Desolation_ pants for Breath, And _guilty Shades_ shall croud the _Realms of Death_. --She said, the _Motion pleas'd_ she _wings_ away 940 And in blue _pois'nous Foggs_ invades the _Day_: Part of her _direful Threats_ too true we find, And _Heav'n_ avert the _Plagues_ that yet remain _behind_! [Sidenote: _Tragedy_.] The _Path_ which _Epic_ treads the TRAGIC Muse With _daring_ tho _unequal_ Steps pursues, A _little Epic_ shines through every _Scene_, Tho more of _Life_ appears, and less _Machine_; More _Action_, less _Narration_, more _Delight_; We _see_ the _Gods_ descend, and _Heroes_ fight.