Acme to Septimius' breast, Darling of his heart, was prest-- "Acme mine!" then said the youth, "If I love thee not in truth, If I shall not love thee ever As a lover doated never, May I in some lonely place, Scorch'd by Ind's or Libya's sun, Meet a lion's tawny face; All defenceless, one to one."-- Love, who heard it in his flight, To the truth his witness bore, Sneezing quickly to the right-- (To the left he sneezed before.) Acme then her head reflecting, Kiss'd her sweet youth's ebriate eyes, With her rosy lips connecting Looks that glistened with replies. "Thus, my life, my Septimillus! Serve we Love, our only master: One warm love-flood seems to thrill us, Throbs it not in me the faster?"-- Love, who heard it in his flight, To the truth his witness bore, Sneezing quickly to the right-- (To the left he sneezed before.) Thus with omens all-approving, Each and both are loved and loving. Poor Septimius with his Acme, Cares not to whose lot may fall Syria's glory--wealthy province!-- Or both Britains great and small. Acme, faithful and unfeigning, Gives, creates, enjoys all pleasure, With her dear Septimius reigning.-- Oh! was ever earthly treasure Greater to man's lot pertaining? Blessed pair!--thus, without measure, Venus' choicest gifts attaining. GRATIAN.--You have a little run riot, good Master Curate; and run out of your rhyming course too, I see--for you don't mean "province" to rhyme to "Acme."--I see the next is, On Approach of Spring--with that beautiful line, "Jam ver egelidos refert tepores." I wish to see how you would have translated that refreshing and cool warmth of expression--almost a contradiction in terms--the season when we inhale the heavenly air with the chill off--like hot tea thrown into a glass of spring-cold water, and drank off immediately. AQUILIUS.--I gave it up in despair, and the Curate too has omitted it. There are two other perhaps untranslatable lines in this short piece:-- "Jam mens praetrepidans avet vagari; Jam laeti studio pedes vigescunt."