Classic Poem

While for our lord with loyalty unstained
The rage of lawless foemen you restrained,
I who your love have e'er my glory made,
Was sporting safely in the Muses' shade.
But when to Rhaetia my poems came.
And the far north was busy with my name,
Never did you our friendship then deny
But " He's my own, my comrade," oft would cry.
Soon may the author read to your kind ears
All you have heard about in these six years.