Here's a winner from Queen Elizabeth I

The doubt of future foes

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 rains 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 dischord 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
This 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