Classic Poem

I HAVE wrought my work — more durable than steel;
And not swift-hasting Time, nor winds, nor rain,
Devouring waves, lightning, nor thunder-peal,
Nor rage of storms, shall lay it low again.

In that last day and hour, when Death shall come
And set hard sleep like stone upon my heart,
Not all Ronsard shall pass beneath the tomb.
There shall remain of him the better part.

Forever and forever, I shall live,
Shall fly the wide world o'er, deathless and free,
And haunt the fields to which my laurels give
Immortal fame, by changeless Fate's decree;

For that I joined two harpers of old time
To the soft ringing of my ivory lyre
And made them Vendomese by my new rhyme.
Up, then, my Muse! — carry to Heaven's choir

The glory I have gained, announce the claim
That of full right I make in song's demesne!
Then consecrate thy son to lasting fame
And bind his brows with laurel ever green.