 | Marinda
|  |
|
[I.]
Long time I wander'd in uncertain Ways,
And many Years in doubtful Paths I trod,
A weary Traveller, and chang'd them oft,
Finding no rest; both Hills and Vales I pass'd,
O'er craggy Mountains and thro' Desarts wild:
At Land I look'd for Sea, at Sea for Land.
Enrag'd at length, myself I then despis'd,
And my vain Thoughts, that find no Help or Guide.
Blind faithless World, I now too well perceive
How much thy Fruit do's differ from the Flow'r.
Sad Story 'tis to tell what various Woes
In my long Pilgrimage and Banishment
I suffer'd, and of which I see no end,
Unless, thou Lord, with gracious Ray benign
Shew me the Way, and guide my dubious Steps,
When if I stray it is my Fault and Choice.
| Marinda
| |
|
