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 II.

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 me self believe that all is well; While with a feeling skill, I paint my hell.

III.

Let dainty wits cry on the Sisters nine, That bravely maskt, their fancies may be told; Or PINDAR's apes flaunt they in phrases fine, Enamelling with pied flowers their thoughts of gold; Or else let them in statelier glory shine, Ennobling new-found tropes with problems old; Or with strange similes enrich each line, Of herbs or beasts which Inde or Afric hold: For me, in sooth, no Muse but one I know. Phrases and problems from my reach do grow, And strange things cost too dear for my poor sprites. How then? Even thus. In STELLA's face I read What love and beauty be. Then all my deed But copying is, what in her Nature writes.