Let those
who are in favour with their stars,
Of public
honour and proud titles boast,
Whilst I
whom fortune of such triumph bars
Unlooked
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 foiled,
Is from
the book of honour razed quite,
And all
the rest forgot for which he toiled:
Then happy
I that love and am beloved
Where I may not remove nor
be removed
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