Septimius, holding his lover Acme,
in his bosom, said, “my Acme,
if I do not love you with abandon and if I am not prepared
to henceforth love you constantly for all our years,
as much as he who can love the most
alone in Libya and in sweltering India,
I shall come to meet the blue eyed lion.”
As he said this, Love sneezed approval on
the left as before on the right.
But Acme, lightly bending back her head,
and having kissed the infatuated eyes
of the sweet boy with her wine-red mouth,
said, “let it be thus, my life, my little Septimius:
let us forever serve this one master,
so that a passion far grander and keener
may burn in my soft marrow.”
As she said this, Love sneezed approval on
the left as before on the right.
Now, having started off on a good omen,
they love and are loved like-mindedly.
Poor little Septimius prefers Acme alone
to Syria and Britain:
the faithful Acme finds pleasure
and desire in Septimius alone.
Who has seen any one happier,
who has seen a more blessed love?
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Acmēn Septimius suōs amōrēs
tenēns in gremiō ‘mĕ’ inquit ‘Acmē,
nī tē perdite amō atque amāre porrō
omnēs sum assiduē parātus annōs,
quantum quī pote plūrimum perīre,
sōlus in Libyā Indiāque tostā
caesiō veniam obvius leōnī.’
Hoc ut dīxit, Amor sinistrā ut ante
dextrā sternuit approbātiōnem.
At Acmē leviter caput reflectēns
et dulcis puerī ebriōs ocellōs
illō purpureō ōre suāviāta,
‘sīc’ inquit ‘mea vīta Septimille,
huic ūnī dominō ūsque serviāmus,
ut multō mihi maior acriorque
ignis mollibus ārdet in medullīs.’
Hoc ut dīxit, Amor sinistrā ut ante
dextrā sternuit approbātiōnem.
Nunc ab auspiciō bonō profectī
mūtuīs animīs amant amantur.
Ūnam Septimius misellus Acmēn
māvult quam Syriās Britanniāsque:
ūnō in Septimiō fidēlis Acmē
facit dēliciās libīdinisque.
quis ūllōs hominēs beātiōrēs
vīdit, quis Venerem auspicātiōrem?
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