Non Nubila tangant

THE godly mind, that hath so oft assaid,
The perils that our frailtie here amate,
Through heauenly wisedome, is no more afraid
Of Fortunes frowne, and bitter blastes of Fate:
For though in vale of woes, her dwelling be,
Her nobler part's aboue vntouch't and free.

For mortall thinges doe find their change below,
And nought can here defend vs from the shower,
Now greatest windes doe threate our overthrow,
Our golden morne anon begins to lowre:
And while our hopes, are yet but in their sap,
Their buds are blasted by the Thunderclap.