- Let those who are in favour with their stars
- Of public honour and proud titles boast,
- Whilst I, whom fortune of such triumph bars
- Unlook’d for joy in that I honour most.
- Great princes’ favourites their fair leaves spread
- But as the marigold at the sun’s eye,
- And in themselves their pride lies buried,
- For at a frown they in their glory die.
- The painful warrior famoused for fight,
- After a thousand victories once foil’d,
- Is from the book of honour razed quite,
- And all the rest forgot for which he toil’d:
- Then happy I, that love and am belov’d,
- Where I may not remove nor be remov’d.