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Wilfrid Scawen Blunt - The Love Sonnets Of Proteus. Part III: Gods And False Gods: LXIX
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SIBYLLINE BOOKS
 When first, a boy, at your fair knees I kneeled,
 `Twas with a worthy offering. In my hand
 My young life`s book I held, a volume sealed,
 Which none but you, I deemed, might understand.
 And you I did entreat to loose the band
 And read therein your own soul`s destiny.
 But, Tarquin--like, you turned from my demand,
 Too proudly fair to find your fate in me.
 When now I come, alas, what hands have turned
 Those virgin pages! Some are torn away,
 And some defaced, and some with passion burned,
 And some besmeared with life`s least holy clay.
 Say, shall I offer you these pages wet
 With blood and tears? And will your sorrow read
 What your joy heeded not?--Unopened yet
 One page remains. It still may hold a fate,
 A counsel for the day of utter need.
 Nay, speak, sad heart, speak quick. The hour is late.
 Age threatens us. The Gaul is at the gate.
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