MR. BUNYAN'S

PROEM TO THE READER OF THE

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS.

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; and what he does :
It also shows you how he runs-and runs
Till he unto the gate of Glory comes.

THIS BOOK is wrote 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.

The reader will approve the insertion and appropriation of the following lines from Lord RoscoMMON's translation of Horace's Art of Poetry.

POEMS, like Pictures, are of different sorts,
Some better at a distance, others near,

Some love the dark, some love a clearer light,

Some please for once-THIS, will for EVER please.

THE

PILGRIM'S PROGRESS.

A POEM.

THE FIRST BOOK.

CHRISTIAN, AN INHABITANT OF THE CITY OF DESTRUCTION, BEING

CONVINCED OF HIS SIN AND

DANGER, IS DETERMINED TO FLEE FROM IMPENDING RUIN, AND IS DIRECTED BY EVANGELIST TO THE HIS NEIGHBOURS LAUGH HIM TO

WICKET-GATE

SCORN

-

PLIABLE ACCOMPANIES HIM TO THE SLOUGH OF DESPOND, BUT IS OFFENDED AND RETURNS.

'TWAS in the silent watches of the night, When airy visions please us or affright,

Fast lock'd in sleep's embrace, I dreamt a dream;-
The PILGRIM'S JOURNEY was the fruitful theme.
I thought I saw him in a certain place;
From home he turn'd his pale affrighted face;

Trembling with fear and cloth'd with rags he stood,
His weeping eyes pour'd forth a living flood;

His bending back a heavy burden bore,

While guilt and grief his bursting bosom tore.
At times when able, in his book he read,

He wish'd for refuge gladly would have fled.
"Oh! that my soul," he cried, " a refuge knew—
"But ah, I'm lost! I know not what to do!"*

Home he return'd, and wish'd to hide his pain, Tried to look cheerful, but he tried in vain; His countenance his inward grief bespoke, Till thus, to give it vent, he silence broke;

My dearest wife, and you my children dear, "A wretched man appears before you here, "Here on my heart a heavy burden lies, "And past offences pain my weeping eyes. "I've been inform'd, this city where we dwell,* "Is doom'd to perish in the flames of hell: "To sin and Satan we have been enslav'd— "And is it possible we can be sav'd?"

This is a figurative description of a convinced sinner. Sensible of his guilt, he is afraid of the wrath of God; sees that his own righteousness is as filthy rags; and weeps on the recollection of his iniquities. The burden on his back, denotes, that the remembrance of his sins is grievous, and the burden of them intolerable. In this condition he exclaims with the Philippian Jailer-"What must I do to be saved?"

+ The City of Destruction, means, This present evil world, which is doomed to be destroyed by fire. Those who are concerned for their own souls, will discover a concern for others; but will probably be deemed madmen for their pains.