Poetic narrative, is the exposition of lies and fictions, made in artificial language—that is to say with all the apparatus of art and seduction. Thus, just as in history, things are true: the order is natural, the style is frank and ingenious, the expressions are without art and refinement, at least that is apparent; there is, on the contrary, in the poetic narrative an artfulness for things, an artfulness for narration, an artfulness for style and for versification.

Poetry has in the narrative an order quite different from that of history. The poetic narrative casts itself sometimes in the midst of events, as if the reader were informed of what has come before. At other times poets begin the narrative near the very end of the action, and find the means of postponing the exposition of causes to some favorable occasion. Thus, Aeneas suddenly leaves the coasts of Sicily, nearly reaching Italy; but a storm throws him back to Carthage, where he finds Queen Dido who wants to know his misfortunes and his adventures; he recounts them to her, and by this means the poet has occasion to instruct his reader at the same time about what preceded the departure from Sicily. Poets also have a particular art in relation to the form of their style; that is to give a dramatic turn to most of their narratives .

There are three different forms that poetry can take in how it narrates. The first form is when the poet does not show himself, but only those characters whom he makes act. Thus Racine and Corneille do not appear in any of their plays; it is always their actors who speak.

The second form is the one in which the poet shows himself and does not show his actors, that is, he speaks in his own name and says what these actors did: thus, La Fontaine does not show the mountain at work; he only recounts what it has done.

The third is mixed, that is to say, without showing the actors, one cites their speeches as coming from them, putting words in their mouths, which creates a sort of dramatic poetry.

Nothing would be so languid and monotonous as a narrative , if it were always in the same form. There is no historian, though bound to the truth, who has not believed it reasonable to be in some way unfaithful to it in order to vary this form, and to throw this drama of which we speak in some places in his narrative ; a fortiori, more rightfully will poetry use this right, since it wants to please openly, and since it makes no secret of using all means.

But it is not enough for poetry to diversify its narratives in order to please, it must embellish them with decoration and ornaments: it is genius that produces them, these ornaments, with the freedom of a creator god, ingenium cui sit divinius [talent is godlike].