Poetry Explorer

Classic and Contemporary Poetry

LAUREL'S WORTH by PIERRE DE RONSARD

First Line: MY TOO GREAT LOVE OF YOU HATH BEEN MY BALE
Last Line: AND ON THEIR FAME THE FATES SHALL HAVE NO HOLD.
Subject(s): FATES (MYTHOLOGY); HOMER (10TH CENTURY B.C.); LOVE; MUSES; POETRY & POETS; SOUL; YOUTH; ILIAD; ODYSSEY;
@3Ronsard@1

My too great love of you hath been my bale,
O Muses -- who defy Time's power, you say! --
For now mine eyes are dull, my face is pale,
My head at thirty years is bald and grey.

@3The Muses@1

The wandering seaman weareth bronzed looks
For beauty; smooth, soft skin doth not avail
To make the soldier fair; who o'er our books
Doth bend is ugly save his face be pale.

@3Ronsard@1

But what reward for so long following
With laurelled brow your dances night and day
Can e'er make good the loss of my life's Spring
When youth like scattered dust is blown away?

@3The Muses@1

Living you shall enjoy a glorious fame,
And after death your memory shall bloom;
Age upon age shall keep alive your name,
Naught but your flesh shall perish in the tomb.

@3Ronsard@1

O gracious recompense! What vantage hath
Homer, who lies, mere nothing, underground,
Without or feet or head or limbs or breath,
Though on the earth his name be still renowned!

@3The Muses@1

You are deceived. What though the body rot
Within the tomb? -- it cannot know or care.
But on the soul of man such change comes not.
Immortal, freed of flesh, it lives fore'er.

@3Ronsard@1

Then it is well! I'll toil with joyous face
Even though I die o'er-vanquished in the strife
Of study -- to the end no future race
May lay on me the blame of wasted life.

@3The Muses@1

'Tis wisely spoken. They whose fantasy
Toward God is true and reverent, as of old,
Shall still create some noble poesy,
And on their fame the Fates shall have no hold.



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