Like to the myrtle which doth grow

Upon the distant Asian strand,

And flowering shoots abroad doth throw,
Which the fair Hamadryad band
Nourish in sport with honey dew,-
So Julia comes most lovely to the view.

Come hither, then, thine advent make,
O Hymen, where for thee we cry,
The dark Aonian caves forsake

Which 'neath the Thespian rocks do lie, (4)

The rocks which Aganippe's wave

With current icy chill doth ever lave.

And summon her whose soul doth beat

With longing for her new-made lord,
As mistress now her home to greet,

Her heart fast binding with the cord
Of love, as with her wandering grace
The clinging ivy doth a tree embrace.

And ye, too, virgins chaste and pure,
Come join with us, and raise your song,
For you a day like this will sure

Approach, nor will the time be long,
And, Hymen, sing in measure clear,
Hear us, O Hymen, Hymenæus hear.

That so the god, while thus we sing,

May hear the cry which calls him near For his own rite, and joyful bring

His presence to confirm us here, Of Venus chaste is he the guide, By him the bands of honest love are tied.

What god should be preferred to thee,
Of all the gods who dwell in heaven,
By lovers? or to whom should be

By all men vows more earnest given?
O Hymenæus, now draw near,
Hear us, O Hymen, Hymenæus hear.

To thee the parent still doth cry,

Whose anxious mind can know no rest,

To thee the maiden doth untie

Her virgin zone from off her breast,

For thee, too, while he shrinks with fear, The new-made husband lists with eager ear;

Thou placest 'neath the guardian power Of a fond spouse the youthful bride, Robed in pure beauty like a flower,

Whom nestling by her mother's side, From her own mother thou dost tear ; Hear us, O Hymen, Hymenæus hear.

No blessing sooth can Venus take
Such as an honest fame approves,
Without thine aid the bond to make

The bond which bindeth mutual loves,
But with thine aid all joys can be,

What god can ever be compared with thee?

No house can children rear to grace
The glories of an ancient line,
No parent can prolong his race

In sons without thine aid divine;

But with thine aid all this can be, What god can ever be compared with thee?

The impious land which doth not know

Thy holy rite can set no guard

Of warriors to repel the foe (5)

And keep her bounds with constant ward,

But with thine aid this too can be,

What god can ever be compared with thee?

The closed portals wide undo,
Behold the virgin now is there,

How gleam the torches to our view,

See how they shake their glittering hair,

But hasten now, for wanes the day,

Come forth, thou lovely bride, no more delay.

The virgin lingers in her bower,

The voice of shame alone she hears;
Our songs she heeds not, and the hour

When she must go is fraught with tears: But hasten now, for wanes the day,

Come forth, thou lovely bride, no more delay.

Cease, cease, those idle tears to shed
Aurunculeia, for to thee

Ne'er need there come a haunting dread
Lest one more fairly formed should see

The sun from out the purple main Arise to bring the light of day again.

As in a rich man's garden rare,

Where many a varied flower doth blow, The hyacinth stands erect and fair,

So fair thy beauty's grace doth show, But hasten now, for wanes the day,

Come forth, thou lovely bride, no more delay.

Come forth, come forth, thou lovely bride, If come thou wilt, for we have long

Stood here thy coming to abide,

Come forth, fair bride, and hear our song,

See how the torches for thee glare

And glittering shake aloft their golden hair.

Ne'er shall thy husband fickle prove Disgracing thy heart's lavished treasure, Or bring foul scandal on thy love

By seeking base adulterous pleasure, Ne'er will he wish his head to rest Elsewhere than on thy gentle swelling breast.

Like as the slowly-growing vine

'Mid sheltering trees round every limb Her clinging branches doth entwine,

So shall thy arms encircle him; But hasten now, for wanes the day, Come forth, thou lovely bride, no more delay.

O bed that gleam'st with ivory feet,
What joys ere long thy lord shall know

By day when burns the noontide heat
Or as the night hours fleeting go!
But hasten now, for wanes the day,
Come forth, thou lovely bride, no more delay.

Now let the torch uplifted burn

Ye youths, the bride's veil sweeping long

In near approach I can discern,

And in due measure chaunt your song,

O Hymen, Hymenæus sing,

All blessings, Hymen, Hymenæus, bring.