Toledo had a custom, long ago,
That ere he claimed a Workman's name and right
Each prentice armorer for one long night
Must watch and toil in furnace-smoke and glow,

A master-work in steel to fashion so,
Supple as reed, and as a feather light.
Then on the blade of it, still warm and bright,
He graved his Master's name, his thanks to show.

Ronsard, for thee I have toiled the whole night long.
My humble prentice hand for thee has sought
To shape the sonnet, flexible and strong
Even as a sword. My sounding hammer wrought
Long the true metal, shining from the flame.
Now on the blade I grave thy glorious name.