ON A

PORTRAIT OF JOHN BUNYAN.

Ingenious dreamer! in whose well-told tale

Sweet fiction and sweet truth alike prevail;

Whose humorous vein, strong sense, and simple style,
Might teach the gayest, make the gravest smile,
Witty, and well employed; and, like thy Lord,
Speaking in parables his slighted word."

CowPER.

AND this is Bunyan! How unlike the dull,
Unmeaning visage which was wont to stand
His PILGRIM's frontispiece! its ponderous skull
Propped gracelessly on an enormous hand;
A countenance one vainly might have scanned
For one bright ray of genius, or of sense;

Much less the mental power of him who planned This fabric quaint of rare intelligence,

And, having reared its pile, became immortal thence.

ON A PORTRAIT OF JOHN BUNYAN.

But here we trace, indelibly defined,

All his admirers' fondest hopes could crave, Shrewdness of intellect, and strength of mind,

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Devout, yet lively, and acute, though grave; Worthy of him whose rare invention gave To serious Truth the charm of Fiction's dress, Yet in that fiction sought the soul to save From earth and sin, for heaven and happiness; And by his fancied dreams men's waking hours to bless.

Delightful author! while I look upon

This striking portraiture of thee—I seem As if my thoughts on pilgrimage were gone, Down the far vista of thy pleasant dream, Whose varied scenes with vivid wonders teem:SLOUGH OF DESPOND! thy terrors strike mine eye;

Over the WICKET GATE I see the gleam

Of SHINING LIGHT; and catch that mountain high, Of DIFFICULT ascent, the pilgrim's faith to try.

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ON A PORTRAIT OF JOHN BUNYAN.

The HOUSE called BEAUTIFUL; the lowly VALE
Of SELF-HUMILIATION, where the might
Of CHRISTIAN, panoplied in heavenly mail,
O'ercame APOLLYON in that fearful fight;

The VALLEY named OF DEATH, by shades of night
Encompassed, and with horrid phantoms rife ;
The TOWN OF VANITY, where bigot spite,

Ever with Christian pilgrimage at strife, To martyred Faithful gave the crown of endless life!

Thence on with Christian, and his HOPEFUL peer, TO DOUBTING CASTLE'S dungeons I descend; The KEY of PROMISE opes those vaults of fear; And now o'er HILLS DELECTABLE I wend

TO BEULAH'S sunny plains, where sweetly blend Of flowers, and fruits, and song, a blissful maze;

Till at the bridgeless stream my course I end, Eyeing the farther shore with rapture's gaze,

Where that BRIGHT CITY basks in glory's sunless blaze!

ON A PORTRAIT OF JOHN BUNYAN.

Immortal dreamer! while thy magic page

To such celestial visions can give birth,
Well may this portraiture our love engage,

Giving, with grace congenial to thy worth,
The form thy living features wore on earth :

For few can boast a juster, prouder claim

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Thanthine, whose labours, blending harmless mirth With sagest counsel's higher, holier aim,

Have from the wise and good won honourable fame!

And still for marvelling childhood, blooming youth, Ripe manhood, silver-tressed and serious age,Ingenious fancy and instructive truth

Richly adorn thy allegoric page;

Pointing the warfare Christians yet must wage, Who wish to journey on that heavenly road; And tracing clearly each successive stage Of the rough path thy holy travellers trod,

The PILGRIM'S PROGRESS marks to glory and to GOD!

SPRING FLOWERS.

THE flowers of Spring, the flowers of Spring,

They bloom as heretofore;

But can they to my fancy bring

The spell that charmed of yore?

Ah no! that spell, once deemed their own,
But gladdened childhood's span ;

And thoughts and cares of sterner tone,
Have "made and marred the man."

Yet with no vain repining thought
Would I the change upbraid;

With beauty, and with fragrance fraught,
They blossom-but to fade!