È Fatto Poem by Martin Farquhar Tupper

Note of triumph,-- It is done!
Shout, as of a battle won!
Joy of each heroic soul
Scarcely snatching at the goal,
Climax to the hope that binds
Aims and ends in earnest minds,--
O how often in the strife
Of this daily din of life
Gladly have I on my track
Flung this word behind my back,
And with thanks in heart and eye
Sent 'È Fatto' to the sky!

Factum est,-- the die is cast,
Factum est,-- the peril past,
Factum est,-- no longer doubt
Throws a man of action out;
Change or chance no more can mock
His purpose grounded on this rock,
Firm 'È Fatto,' it is done,
Solid fact to anchor on.

Do at once with all thy might
What good conscience judges right;
Do it, dreading each delay
In this only chance, To-day;
Do it, Now,-- and all is done,
The battle fought, the battle won,
Do it, and the race is run,
Do, -- it hath not to be done!

Aim, to stalwarth issue brought,
Thing, that once was but a thought,
Garne'd harvest, ripen'd toil,
Gather'd trophy, conquer'd spoil,--
These are joys the best have known,--
Yea,-- that noblest dying groan,
'It is finished,'-- blessed word,
Solaced even God the Lord!