The doubt of future foes exiles my present joy,
And wit me warns to shun such snares as threaten mine annoy;
For falsehood now doth flow, and subjects’ faith doth ebb,
Which should not be if reason ruled or wisdom weaved the web.
But clouds of joys untried do cloak aspiring minds,
Which turn to rain of late repent by changed course of winds.
The top of hope supposed the root upreared shall be,
And fruitless all their grafted guile, as shortly ye shall see.
The dazzled eyes with pride, which great ambition blinds,
Shall be unsealed by worthy wights whose foresight falsehood finds.
The daughter of debate that discord aye doth sow
Shall reap no gain where former rule still peace hath taught to know.
No foreign banished wight shall anchor in this port;
Our realm brooks not seditious sects, let them elsewhere resort.
My rusty sword through rest shall first his edge employ
To poll their tops that seek such change or gape for future joy.

  • 0
  • 0
Login to comment...

Other works by Queen Elizabeth I...

We need your help

Unlike many other websites, we haven’t put up a paywall – we want to keep access to poetry as open as we can. Growing and maintaining Poeticous takes a lot of time, money and hard work, and the revenue we get from advertising is almost nothing, so we increasingly need our readers to fund us. If everyone who reads our pages, who likes it, helps fund it, our future would be much more secure. Support Poetiocus from as little as $1.