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? Wouldest 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,
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? O then come hither,
And lay my book, thy head, and heart together.
JOHN BUNYAN.