Holding his own Acme on his lap
Septimius said, ‘My Acme, if I am not hopelessly
In love with you and ready to love
You for all the years to come forever,
As much as a man can love to the death,
On my own in Libya or scorched India
May I wrestle a lion with green eyes.’
As he said this, Love sneezed his approval
On the left before the right.
And Acme, tilting her head slightly
And kissing with her rosy lips
Her darling boyfriend’s intoxicated eyes
Said, ‘My life, my darling Septimius,
Let us be slaves forever to this master alone
As much as a fire far stronger and fiercer
Kindles in my soft marrow.’
As she said this, Love sneezed his approval
On the left before the right.
Enjoying today his good favour
They love and are loved, their hearts as one.
Poor Septimius prefers his one and only Acme
To all the Syrias and Britains.
Faithful Acme directs her affection and lust
To Septimius alone.
Who could envisage beings more fortunate,
Who a love more blessed?