Petrarch - Sonnet XXXII lyrics

HE ASKS FROM A FRIEND THE LOAN OF THE WORKS OF ST. AUGUSTIN If Love or d**h no obstacle entwine With the new web which here my fingers fold, And if I 'scape from beauty's tyrant hold While natural truth with truth reveal'd I join, Perchance a work so double will be mine Between our modern style and language old, That (timidly I speak, with hope though bold) Even to Rome its growing fame may shine: But, since, our labour to perfèct at last Some of the blessed threads are absent yet Which our dear father plentifully met, Wherefore to me thy hands so close and fast Against their use? Be prompt of aid and free, And rich our harvest of fair things shall be. Macgregor.