Acme and Septimius

"Oh! Acme love!" Septimius cried, 
As on his lap he held his bride, 
"If all my heart is not for thee, 
And doats not on thee desperately, 
And if it doat not more and more, 
As desperate heart ne'er did before. 
May I be doomed, on desart ground, 
To meet the lion in his round!"
He said, and Love, on tiptoe near him,
Kind at last, and come to cheer him,
Clapped his little hands to hear him.

But Acme to the bending youth 
Just dropping back that rosy mouth,
Kissed his reeling, hovering eyes, 
And "O my life, my love!" replies,
"So may our constant service be 
To this one only Deity, 
As with a transport doubly true 
He thrills your Acme's being through!" 
She said; and Love, on tiptoe near her, 
Kind at last, and come to cheer her, 
Clapped his little hands to hear her.

Favoured thus by heaven above, 
Their lives are one return of love; 
For he, poor fellow, so possessed, 
Is richer than with East or West, 
And she, in her enamoured boy, 
Finds all that she can frame of joy.
Now who has seen, in Love's subjection. 
Two more blest in their connection,
Or a more entire affection?