Lest things most hurtful lightly we receive, And things that good are, of our souls bereave. My dark and cloudy words, they do but hold The truth, as cabinets enclose the gold.
The prophets used much by metaphors To set forth truth; yea, who so considers Christ, his apostles too, shall plainly see, That truths to this day in such mantles be.
Am I afraid to say, that holy writ,
Which for its style and phrase puts down all wit, Is everywhere so full of all these things- Dark figures, allegories? Yet there springs From that same book* that lustre, and those rays Of light, that turn our darkest nights to days. Come, let my carper to his life now look, And find there darker lines than in my book He findeth any; yea, and let him know, That in his best things there are worse lines too. May we but stand before impartial men,
To his poor one I dare adventure ten,
That they will take my meaning in these lines
Far better than his lies in silver shrines.
Come, truth, although in swaddling clouts, I find, Informs the judgment, rectifies the mind; Pleases the understanding, makes the will Submit; the memory also it doth fill With what doth our imaginations please; Likewise it tends our troubles to appease.
Sound words, I know, Timothy is to use, And old wives' fables he is to refuse ; But yet grave Paul him nowhere did forbid The use of parables; in which lay hid
• The BIBLE, which filled a desolate prison with wondrous visions of heaven with angels, and the presence of the Eternal.
That gold, those pearls, and precious stones that were Worth digging for, and that with greatest care.
Let me add one word more. O man of God, Art thou offended? Dost thou wish I had Put forth my matter in another dress? Or, that I had in things been more express? Three things let me propound; then I submit To those that are my betters, as is fit.
1. I find not that I am denied the use
Of this my method, so I no abuse
Put on the words, things, readers; or be rude In handling figure or similitude,
In application; but all that I may,
Seek the advance of truth this or that way Denied, did I say? Nay, I have leave (Example too, and that from them that have God better pleased, by their words or ways, Than any man that breatheth now-a-days) Thus to express my mind, thus to declare Things unto thee that excellentest are.
2. I find that men (as high as trees) will write Dialogue-wise; yet no man doth them slight For writing so: indeed, if they abuse Truth, cursed be they, and the craft they use To that intent; but yet let truth be free
To make her sallies upon thee and me,
Which way it pleases God; for who knows how, Better than he that taught us first to plough, To guide our mind and pens for his design? And He makes base things usher in divine. 3. I find that holy writ in many places Hath semblance with this method, where the cases Do call for one thing, to set forth another; Use it I may, then, and yet nothing smother
Truth's golden beams: nay, by this method may Make it cast forth its rays as light as day.
And now before I do put up my pen,
I'll show the profit of my book, and then
Commit both thee and it unto that Hand
That pulls the strong down, and makes weak ones stand. This book it chalketh out before thine eyes The man that seeks the everlasting prize;
It shows you whence he comes, whither he goes; What he leaves undone, also what he does; It also shows you how he runs and runs, Till he unto the gate of glory comes.
It shows, too, who set out for life amain, As if the lasting crown they would obtain; Here also you may see the reason why They lose their labour, and like fools do die. This book will make a traveller of thee, If by its counsel thou wilt ruled be: It will direct thee to the Holy Land, If thou wilt its directions understand: Yea, it will make the slothful active be; The blind also delightful things to see.*
Art thou for something rare and profitable? Or wouldst thou see a truth within a fable? Art thou forgetful? Or wouldst thou remember From New Year's day to the last of December? Then read my fancies; they will stick like burs, And may be, to the helpless, comforters.
This book is writ in such a dialect
As may the minds of listless men affect:
It seems a novelty, and yet contains
Nothing but sound and honest gospel strains.
How richly did Milton enjoy spiritual visions of God and of eternal bliss, while his blindness hrouded to him the world in impenetrable darkness.
Wouldst thou divert thyself from melancholy? Wouldst thou be pleasant, yet be far from folly? Wouldst thou read riddles, and their explanation? Or else be drowned in thy contemplation? Dost thou love picking meat? Or wouldst thou see A man i' the clouds, and hear him speak to thee? Wouldst thou be in a dream, and yet not sleep? Or wouldst thou in a moment laugh and weep? Wouldest thou lose thyself and catch no harm, And find thyself again without a charm?
Wouldst read thyself, and read thou knowest not what, And yet know whether thou art blest or not,
By reading the same lines? Oh, then come hither, And lay my book, thy head and heart together.
S I walked through the wilderness of this world, I lighted on a certain place where was a Den, and I laid me down
in that place to sleep: and, as I slept, I dreamed a dream.
I dreamed, and behold, I saw a man clothed with rags, standing in a
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