Let those who are in favor with their stars
Of public honor and proud titles boast,
Whilst I whom fortune of such triumph bars
Unlook’d for joy in that I honor most.
Great princes’ favorites 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 honor raised quite,
And all the rest forgot for which he toil’d.
Then happy I that love and am beloved
Where I many not remove, nor be removed.