A Free Translation of Rostand's Sonnet.
By FRANCES C. FAY.
"Deathless" is graven deeper on thy brow;
Ghouls have no power to end thy endless sway.
The Greek of old, the Frenchman of today,
Before thy riven shrine are bending now.
A wounded fortress straightway lieth prone,
Not so the Temple dies; its roof may fall,
The sky its covering vault, an azure pall,
Doth droop to crown its wealth of lacework stone.
Praise to you, Vandal guns of dull intent!
We lacked till now our Beauty's monument
Twice hallowed o'er by insult's brutal hand,
As Pallas owns on Athens' golden hill,
We have it now, thanks to your far-flung brand!
Your shame--our gain, misguided German skill!