Classic Poem

WHEREIN HE BEGS A FRIEND IN ROME TO LEND HIM THE WORKS OF ST. AUGUSTINE

If Love or Death prove no impediment
To the new web which herewith I prepare,
And if I can escape the golden snare,
While natural truth with truth revealed are blent
Into one truth, I may a work present
So double, modern style with language rare
And ancient mixed, that (timidly, I dare
Proclaim it) Rome herself should hail the event.
But since, to finish what is thus begun,
I lack some of the sacred threads which flew
So freely when our cherished father spun,
Wherefore the hands so reticent that knew
Such wealth? I do entreat you open wide
And from my pen will pour a lavish tide.