Classic Poem

Whilst on Septimius panting Brest,
(Meaning nothing less than Rest)
Acme lean'd her loving head
Thus the pleas'd Septimius said:

My dearest Acme , if I be
Once alive, and love not thee
With a Passion far above
All that e're was called Love,
In a Lybian desert may
I become some Lions prey,
Let him, Acme , let him tear
My Brest, when Acme is not there.

The God of Love who stood to hear him,
(The God of Love was always near him)
Pleas'd and tickl'd with the sound,
Sneez'd aloud, and all around
The little Loves that waited by,
Bow'd and blest the Augurie.

Acme , enflam'd with what he said,
Rear'd her gently-bending head,
And her purple mouth with joy
Stretching to the delicious Boy
Twice (and twice would scarce suffice)
She kist his drunken, rowling eyes.
My little Life, my All (said she)
So may we ever servants be
To this best God, and ne'r retain
Our hated Liberty again,
So may thy passion last for me,
As I a passion have for thee,
Greater and fiercer much then can
Be conceiv'd by Thee a Man.

Into my Marrow it is gone,
Fixt and setled in the Bone,
It reigns not only in my Heart,
But runs, like Life, through ev'ry part.

She spoke; the God of Love aloud,
Sneez'd again, and all the crowd
Of little Loves that waited by,
Bow'd and blest the Augurie.

This good Omen thus from Heaven
Like a happy signal given,
Their Loves and Lives (all four) embrace,
And hand in hand run all the race.
To poor Septimius (who did now
Nothing else but Acme grow)
Acme 's bosom was alone
The whole worlds Imperial Throne,
And to faithful Acmes mind
Septimius was all Human kind.

If the Gods would please to be
But advis'd for once by me,
I'de advise 'em when they spie
Any illustrious Piety,
To reward Her, if it be she;
To reward Him, if it be He;
With such a Husband, such a Wife,
With Acme 's and Septimius ' life.