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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=536624" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Love Sonnets Of Proteus. Part III: Gods And False Gods: LXX</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=536624" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">ON READING THE MEMOIRS OF M. D'ARTAGNAN<br>Why was I born in this degenerate age?<br>Or rather why, a thousand times, with soul<br>Of such degenerate stuff that a mute rage<br>Is all its reason, tears the only toll<br>It takes on life, and impotence its goal?<br>Why was I born to this sad heritage<br>Of fierce desires which cannot fate control,<br>Of idle hopes life never can assuage?<br>Why was I born thus weak?--Oh to have been<br>A merry fool, at jest with destiny;<br>A free hand ready and a heart as free;<br>A ruffler in the camps of Mazarin!<br>Oh for the honest soul of d'Artagnan,<br>Twice happy knave, a Gascon and a man!</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Wilfrid+Scawen+Blunt">Wilfrid Scawen Blunt</a></strong></div>

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