| 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 | 5 |
| 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, | 10 |
| 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. |