Classic Poem

After long trouble in a taedious way
Of loves unrest, lay'd downe to ease my paine
Hopeing for rest, new torments I did gaine
Possessing mee as if I ought t'obay:

When Fortune came, though blinded, yett did stay,
And in her blesse'd armes did mee inchaine;
I, colde with griefe, thought noe warmth to obtaine
Or to dissolve that ice of joyes decay;

Till, 'rise sayd she, Reward to thee doth send
By mee the servante of true lovers, joy:
Bannish all clowds of doubt, all feares destroy,
And now on fortune, and on Love depend.

I, her obay'd, and rising felt that love
Indeed was best, when I did least itt move.