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Revision as of 13:23, 14 August 2011
WHEN at the first I took my pen in hand Thus for to write, I did not understand That I at all should make a little book In such a mode: nay, I had undertook To make another, which when almost done, Before I was aware, I this begun. And thus it was: I, writing of the way And race of saints in this our gospel day, Fell suddenly into an allegory About their journey and the way to glory, In more than twenty things, which I set down. This done, I twenty more had in my crown; And they again began to multiply, Like sparks that from the coals of fire do fly. Nay, then, thought I, if that you breed so fast, I'll put you by yourselves, lest you at last Should prove ad infinitum, and eat out The book that I already am about. Well, so I did: but yet I did not think To show to all the world my pen and ink In such a mode; I only thought to make I knew not what. Nor did I undertake Thereby to please my neighbour--no, not I! I did it mine own self to gratify. Neither did I but vacant seasons spend In this my scribble; nor did I intend But to divert myself in doing this, From worser thoughts, which make me do amiss. Thus I set pen to paper with delight, And quickly had my thoughts in black and white, For having now my method by the end, Still as I pulled, it came; and so I penned It down; until it came at last to be, For length and breadth, the size which you see. Well, when I had thus put my ends together, I showed them others, that I might see whether They would condemn them, or them justify: And some said, "Let them live"; some, "Let them die"; Some said, "John, print it"; others said, "Not so"; Some said, "It might do good"; others said, "No." Now was I in a strait, and did not see Which was the best thing to be done by me: At last I thought, "Since you are thus divided: I print it will"; and so the case decided: "For," thought I, "some, I see, would have it done, Though others in that channel do not run." To prove then who advised for the best, Thus I thought fit to put it to the test. I further thought: if now I did deny Those that would have it thus to gratify, I did not know but hinder them I might Of that which would to them be great delight. For those which were not for its coming forth, I said to them, "Offend you I am loth; Yet, since your brethren pleased with it be, Forbear to judge, till you do further see. If that thou will not read, let it alone: Some love the meat; some love to pick the bone. Yea, that I might them better moderate, I did too with them thus expostulate: "May I not write in such a style as this; In such a method too; and yet not miss My end--thy good? Why may it not be done? Dark clouds bring waters, when the bright bring none. Yea, dark or bright, if they their silver drops Cause to descend, the earth, by yielding crops Gives praise to both, and carps not at either; But treasures up the fruit they yield together: Yea, so mixes both, that in her fruit None can distinguish this from that: they suit Her well when hungry: but if she be full, She spews out both, and makes their blessings null. You see the ways the fisherman doth take To catch the fish: what devices doth he make! Behold how he engages all his wits; Also his snares, lines, angles, hooks, and nets: Yet fish there be that neither hook nor line, Nor snare, nor net, nor device, can make thine; They must be groped for, and be tickled too, Or they will not be caught whate'er you do. How doth the fowler seek to catch his game By divers means, all which one cannot name! His gun, his nets, his lime twigs, light, and bell: He creeps, he goes, he stands; yea, who can tell Of all his postures? Yet there's none of these Will make him master of what fowls he please. Yea, he must pipe and whistle to catch this; Yet if he does so, that bird he will miss. If that a pearl may in a toad's head dwell, And may be found too in an oyster shell; If things that promise nothing do contain What better is than gold; who will disdain That have an inkling of it, there to look, That they may find it? Now my little book (Though void of all those paintings that may make It with this or the other man to take), Is not without those things that do excel What do in brave but empty notions dwell. "Well, yet I am not fully satisfied That this your book will stand when soundly tried." "Why, what's the matter?" "It is dark." "What though?" "But it is feigned." "What of that?" I trow Some men by feigned words as dark as mine Make truth to spangle, and its rays to shine." "But they want solidness." "Speak, man, thy mind." "They'd drown the weak; metaphors make us blind." Solidity, indeed, becomes the pen Of him that writes things Divine to men; But must I needs want solidness because By metaphors I speak? Were not God's laws, His gospel laws, in olden time held forth By types, shadows, and metaphors? Yet loth Will any sober man be to find fault With them, lest he be found for to assault The highest wisdom. No, he rather stoops, And seeks to find out what by pins and loops, By calves and sheep, by heifers and by rams, By birds and herbs, and by the blood of lambs, God speaks to him; and happy is he That finds the light and grace that in them be. continued at the top of the next column... |