Could I Ramesside luxury provide,
I’d bathe with you, in true Pharaonic style.
You’d be my Isis, my beloved bride
And I the Son of Ra upon the Nile.
Or did I over Caesar’s empire rule,
Were I, in all, Marc Antony again,
Like him, my Gypsy love, I’d play the fool,
All passions else and power itself disdain.
Alas, such ancient evenings are not ours.
They are but dreams, of which you’re redolent.
Your eyes and limbs are my Nilotic bowers;
My foolishness your breasts, your hair, your scent.
So, bathe me ‘til I get recall to duty.
Intoxicate me! Drown me in your beauty!