2
Not at the first sight, nor with a dribbed shot, 
   Love gave the wound, which, while I breathe, will bleed: 
   But known worth did in mine of time proceed, 
Till by degrees it had full conquest got. 
I saw, and liked; I liked, but loved not; 
   I loved, but straight did not what love decreed:
   At length to love's decrees I, forced, agreed, 
Yet with repining at so partial lot. 
   Now even that footstep of lost liberty 
Is gone, and now, like slave-born Muscovite, 
I call it praise to suffer tyranny; 
And now employ the remnant of my wit 
   To make me self believe that all is well, 
   While with a feeling skill I paint my hell.