Classic Poem

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 lovèd 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 myself believe that all is well,
While, with a feeling skill, I paint my hell.