Chapter CXVIII

Not every prince, nor king, nor emperor liveth,
After his years upon this earth pass by;
Not every painter’s brush, nor poet’s sigh
Bringeth to the world the passion that it giveth;
Not every sculptor’s chiselled stone outliveth
The fell destruction of time’s tenancy;
Nor men thought great, nor man’s inconstancy,
Commit the sins that life’s last court forgiveth,
Not such as these form that immortal band,
Whose names adorn the temples of past ages.
Nay, those decreed by nature to withstand
The deep emotions written o’er life’s pages.
Their thoughts with all mankind go hand in hand,
Their loves make one with genius and the sages.