Читать книгу The Riches of Bunyan: Selected from His Works - John Bunyan - Страница 42

"My little bird, how canst thou sit

And sing amidst so many thorns?

Let me but hold vipon thee get,

My love with honor thee adorns.

Thou art at present little worth,

Five farthings none will give for thee,

But prithee, little bird, come forth,

Thou of more value art to me.

"'Tis true it is sunshine to-day,

To-morrow birds will have a storm;

My pretty one, come thou away.

My bosom then shall keep thee warm.

Thou subject art to cold o' nights,

When darkness is thy covering;

At day thy danger's great by kites;

How canst thou then sit there and sing?

"Thy food is scarce and scanty too,

'Tis worms and trash that thou dost eat

Thy present state I pity do,

Come, I'll provide thee better meat.

I'll feed thee with white bread and milk,

And sugar-plums, if them thou crave;

I'll cover thee with finest silk,

That from the cold I may thee save.

"My father's palace shall be thine,

Yea, in it thou shalt sit and sing;

My little bird, if thou'lt be mine,

The whole year round shall be thy spring.

I'll teach thee all the notes at court,

Unthought-of music thou shalt play,

And all that thither do resort

Shall praise thee for it every day.

"I'll keep thee safe from cat and cur,

No manner o' harm shall come to thee;

Yea, I will be thy succorer,

My bosom shall thy cabin be."

But lo, behold, the bird is gone!

These charmings would not make her yield;

The child's left at the bush alone,

The bird flies yonder o'er the field.

The child of Christ an emblem is;

The bird to sinners I compare;

The thorns are like those sins of theirs,

Which do surround them everywhere.

Her songs, her food, her sunshine day,

Are emblems of those foolish toys

Which to destruction lead the way—

The fruit of worldly, empty joys.

The arguments this child doth choose

To draw to him a bird thus wild,

Shows Christ familiar speech doth use,

To make the sinner reconciled.

The bird, in that she takes her wing

To speed her from him after all,

Shows us vain man loves any thing

Much better than the heavenly call.