Raise, boys, your torches, raise them high! I see the scarf of crimson nigh.
On! To her home the bride to bring,
And, as ye move, in measure sing
Hail, Hymen, Hymenæus, hail!
Hail, Hymen, Hymenæus !
Oh happy bride, how richly blest,
Of such a lordly home possess'd,
As from thy spouse thou tak'st to-day,
Which to the end shall own thy sway!
Hail, Hymen, Hymenæus, hail!
Hail, Hymen, Hymenæus !
Till hoary age shall steal on thee,
With loitering step, aud trembling knee,
And palsied head, that, ever bent,
To all in all things nods assent!
Hail, Hymen, Hymenæus, hail!
Hail, Hymen, Hymenæus !
Thy golden-sandall'd feet do thou
Lift lightly o'er the threshold now!
Fair omen this! And pass between
The lintel-posts of polish'd sheen!
Hail, Hymen, Hymenæus, hail !
Hail, Hymen, Hymenæus !
See, where within thy lord is set
On Tyrian-tinctured coverlet,
His eyes upon the threshold bent,
And all his soul on thee intent!
Hail, Hymen, Hymenæus, hail !
Hail, Hymen, Hymenæus !
Within his inmost heart a fire
Is flaming up of sweet desire,
As warm as that which flames in thine,
Yea, warmer, wilder, more divine!
Hail, Hymen, Hymenæus, hail!
Hail, Hymen, Hymenæus !
Thou purple-vestured youth, untwine.
The rounded arm that rests on thine,
And let the maid, by others led,
Advance to climb her husband's bed!
Hail, Hymen, Hymenæus, hail !
Hail, Hymen, Hymenæus !
Ye dames, who have your husbands' praise
Well-earned through length of many days,
In bonds of single wedlock tied,
Advance, 'tis yours to place the bride!
Hail, Hymen, Hymenæus, hail!
Hail, Hymen, Hymenæus !
Enter, husband! Now thou may'st!
In the couch thy wife is placed ;
And her cheeks with shame aglow
'Neath the veil of saffron show,
Like the pale parthenium through
Poppy-beds of saffron hue.
Thou too, by the gods I vow,
Not less beautiful art thou !
Venus, who endows the fair,
Hath on thee bestow'd her care.
Soon the day will disappear;
Tarry not, but enter here.
Tarried hast thou not, indeed.
Now, to recompense thy speed,
Venus aid thy genial task,
Since thou scorn'st thy love to mask;
What thou wishest boldly taking,
Of thy joy no secret making.
Let him first compute the grains
Of the sand on Egypt's plains,
Or the stars that gem the nights,
Who would count the rare delights,
Which thy spousals yet shall bless,
Joys in number numberless!
Of his mother, as he stands
Stretching out his tiny hands,
And his little lips the while
Half open, on his father smile.
And may he in all be like
Manlius his sire, and strike
Strangers when the boy they meet
As his father's counterfeit,
And his face the index be
Of his mother's chastity!
Him, too, such fair fame adorn,
The son of such a mother born,
That so the praise of both entwined
May call Telemachus to mind,
With her, who nursed him on her knee,
Unparagon'd Penelope !
Now, virgins, let us shut the door!
Enough we've toy'd, enough and more!
But fare ye well, ye loving pair,
We leave ye to each other's care;
And blithely let your hours be sped
In joys of youth and lustyhed!
O, Hesper is at hand! Rise, youths! His light
Expected long now harbingers the night.
'Tis time to quit the feast.
Swell high with me the hymeneal lay.
Anon the virgin comes in blushes by.
Oh Hymen Hymenæus, be thou nigh!
Mark you the youths? Rise up, rise up, each maid! Already hath the evening star display'd
In the dim welkin his Oetean flame.
Mark you their nimbleness? Then know their aim !
Anon they'll sing a lay we must outvie.
Oh Hymen Hymenæus, be thou nigh!
No easy triumph, comrades, shall we gain.
See how the maids are practising their strain!
Nor vainly so. With undivided care
Their task is wrought-what marvel, if 'tis fair?
Whilst we, who labour with distracted wit,
Are like to lose the palm, and so 'tis fit,
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