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Marinda

Poems and Translations upon Several Occasions [by Mary Monck]
  

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IV.

Be that true Love Divine, my Guide and Aid,
Which me from nothing to this Heighth has rais'd;
If still my Soul in crooked Ways delights,
Void of all Help it must for ever stray,
And wander on in Darkness, while blind Lust
Obscures that Light, which from on high does spring.

103

As after struggling long, the wearied Stag
Flies from the broken Toils; So I from Love
(Who his fond Vot'ries feeds with Poyson fell)
Fled, ling'ring with a slow, and heavy pace;
But whilst my Sorrows past I gently sung
Collected in myself, a new Desire
Shot up within my glowing Breast, to soar
Above th'Aonian Mount, and Paths attempt
Trod now by few.