SECOND PART OF THE PILGRIM.
Go now, my little Book, to every place
Where my first Pilgrim has but shewn his face ;
Call at their door: if any say, Who's there?
Then answer thou, Christiana is here.
If they bid thee come in, then enter thou,
With all thy boys: and then, as thou know'st how,
Tell who they are, also from whence they came;
Perhaps they'll know them by their looks or name;
But if they should not, ask them yet again,
If formerly they did not entertain
One Christian, a Pilgrim? If they say
They did, and were delighted in this way:
Then let them know, that these related were
Unto him; yea, his wife and children are.
Tell them that they have left their house and home;
Are turned Pilgrims; seek a world to come:
That they have met with hardships in the way;
That they do meet with troubles night and day;
That they have trod on serpents, fought with devils;
Have also overcome a many evils :
Yea, tell them also of the next who have,
Of love to pilgrimage, been stout and brave
Defenders of that way; and how they still
Refuse this world, to do their Father's will.
Go tell them also of those dainty things
That pilgrimage unto the Pilgrims brings.
Let them acquainted be, too, how they are
Beloved of their King, under his care;
What goodly mansions he for them provides;
Though they meet with rough winds and swelling tides, How brave a calm they will enjoy at last,
Who to the Lord, and by his ways hold fast.
Perhaps with heart and hand they will embrace
Thee as they did my firstling, and will grace
Thee and thy fellows with good cheer and fare,
As shew well they of Pilgrims lovers are.
But how if they will not believe of me
That I am truly thine? 'cause some there be
That counterfeit the Pilgrim and his name,
Seek, by disguise, to seem the very same;
And by that means, have brought themselves into
The hands and houses of I know not who.
'Tis true, some have of late, to counterfeit
My Pilgrim, to their own my title set;
Yea, others half my name, and title too,
Have stitched to their books to make them do ;
But yet they, by their features, do declare
Themselves not mine to be, whose e'er they are.
If such thou meet'st with, then thine only way,
Before them all, is to say out thy say
In thine own native language, which no man
Now useth, nor with ease dissemble can.
If, after all, they still of you shall doubt,
Thinking that you like gipsies go about,
In naughty wise the country to defile;
Or that you seek good people to beguile
With things unwarrantable-send for me,
And I will testify you pilgrims be;
Yea, I will testify that only you
My Pilgrims are, and that alone will do.
But yet, perhaps, I may inquire for him
Of those who wish him damned life and limb:
What shall I do, when I at such a door
For Pilgrims ask, and they shall rage the more?
Fright not thyself, my Book, for such bugbears
Are nothing else but ground for groundless fears.
My Pilgrim's book has travell'd sea and land,
Yet could I never come to understand
That it was slighted, or turn'd out of door,
By any kingdom, were they rich or poor.
In France and Flanders, where men kill each other,
My Pilgrim is esteem'd a friend, a brother.
In Holland, too, 'tis said, as I am told,
My Pilgrim is with some worth more than gold.
Highlanders and wild Irish can agree
My Pilgrims should familiar with them be.
'Tis in New England under such advance,
Receives there so much loving countenance,
As to be trimm'd, new cloth'd, and deck'd with gems,
That it might shew its features and its limbs.
Yet more, so comely doth my Pilgrim walk,
That of him thousands daily sing and talk.
If you draw nearer home, it will appear
My Pilgrim knows no ground of shame or fear.
City and country will him entertain
With, Welcome, Pilgrim; yea, they can't refrain
From smiling, if my Pilgrim be but by,
Or shews his head in any company.
Brave gallants do my Pilgrim hug and love,
Esteem it much; yea, value it above
Things of a greater bulk; yea, with delight,
Say, my lark's leg is better than a kite.
Young ladies and young gentlewomen too
Do no small kindness to my Pilgrim shew:
Their cabinets, their bosoms, and their hearts,
My Pilgrim has; 'cause he to them imparts
His pretty riddles, in such wholesome strains
As yield them profit double to their pains
Of reading; yea, I think I may be bold
To say, some prize him far above their gold.
The very children that do walk the street,
If they do but my holy Pilgrim meet,
Salute him will; will wish him well, and say,
He is the only stripling of the day.
They that have never seen him, yet admire
What they have heard of him, and much desire
To have his company, and hear him tell
Those Pilgrim stories which he knows so well.
Yea, some that did not love him at the first,
But call'd him fool and noddy, say they must,
Now they have seen and heard him, him commend:
And to those whom they love, they do him send.
Wherefore, my Second Part, thou need'st not be
Afraid to shew thy head: none can hurt thee,
That wish but well to him that went before;
'Cause thou comest after with a second store
Of things as good, as rich, as profitable,
For young, for old, for staggering and for stable.
But some there be that say, He laughs too loud.
And some do say, His head is in a cloud.
Some say, His words and stories are so dark,
They know not how by them to find his mark.
One may (I think) say, Both his laughs and cries May well be guess'd at by his watery eyes. Some things are of that nature as to make One's fancy chuckle, while his heart doth ache. When Jacob saw his Rachel with the sheep, He did, at the same time, both kiss and weep.
Whereas some say, A cloud is in his head;
That doth but shew his wisdom's covered
With his own mantle, and to stir the mind
To search well after what it fain would find.
Things that seem to be hid in words obscure,
Do but the godly mind the more allure
To study what those sayings should contain,
That speak to us in such a cloudy strain.
I also know a dark similitude
Will on the curious fancy more intrude,
And will stick faster in the heart and head,
Than things from similes not borrowed.
Wherefore, my Book, let no discouragement
Hinder thy travels: behold, thou art sent
To friends, not foes; to friends that will give place
To thee, thy Pilgrims, and the words embrace.
Besides, what my first Pilgrim left conceal'd, Thou, my brave second Pilgrim, hast reveal'd! What Christian left lock'd up, and went his way, Sweet Christiana opens with her key.
But some love not the method of your first: Romance they count it, throw 't away as dust. If I should meet with such, what should I say? Must I slight them as they slight me, or nay?
My Christiana, if with such thou meet,
By all means, in all loving wise them greet;
Render them not reviling for revile;
But if they frown, I prythee on them smile;
Perhaps 'tis nature, or some ill report,
Has made them thus despise or thus retort.
Some love no fish, some love no cheese, and some Love not their friends, nor their own house or home Some start at pig, slight chicken, love not fowl, More than they love a cuckoo or an owl. Leave such, my Christiana, to their choice, And seek those who to find thee will rejoice:
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