Classic Poem

Child of Urania, in the shade
Of Helicon who joy'st to rove;
To snatch the modest-blushing maid
To the fond youth, who dies for love;
God of the tender nuptial tie;
O, hither, sacred Hymen, fly!

Come, laughing boy; thy flowing hair
With fragrant marjoram adorn;
Thy saffron veil with speed prepare,
That veil by brides in marriage worn!
And let thy yellow sandals glow
On thy bright feet that vie with snow!

O, rous'd by this auspicious day,
Prepare the hymeneal song,
Beat the firm ground in measures gay,
And carol sweet with silver tongue!
Then, brandishing thy torch in air,
Bless with its flame the happy pair!

As once, of beauty justly vain,
The lovely queen of Paphian shades
Came conscious to the Phrygian swain;
So, lovely Julia Manlius weds:
And omens fair conspire to prove,
How pure their bliss, how vast their love.

Not less majestic seems the maid
Than myrtles, that on Asian ground
Their graceful branches proudly spread,
Branches, with blossom'd beauty crown'd!
On which the Hamadryads throw,
In frolic sport, their fost'ring dew.

Then come, o come, indulgent pow'r,
Here for awhile direct thy feet!
Forsaking each Aonian bow'r,
Of Thespia's rock, thy lov'd retreat!
Which, with its cool refreshing waves,
The silver Aganippe laves.

O, hither call the wishful bride,
Well-pleas'd with wedlock's new controul,
Lead her to him for whom she sigh'd;
And twine with love her tender soul!
As ivy, with fantastic sprays,
Twines round its tree in many a maze.

Ye virgins truly chaste, to whom
Like days of future bliss belong,
With the same hopes whose cheeks shall bloom,
O, join the hymeneal song!
God of the tender nuptial tie;
O, hither, sacred Hymen, fly!

For, thus invok'd, he sure will lend
A willing ear; will haste away,
His mystic ritual to attend;
And hither come without delay:
Come, the kind friend of love! who binds
Fond hearts, and sympathetic minds.

Is there a deity above,
Whom more propitious, ye adore?
O say, all ye who fondly love!
Is there a god we worship more?
God of the tender nuptial tie;
O, hither, sacred Hymen, fly!

Thee anxious parents chief intreat,
With bliss each darling child to crown;
And virgins, in some sweet retreat,
To thee unloose the magic zone:
To thee the bride, with list'ning fears,
Sighs, as the bridegroom's step she hears.

That bride in florid beauty gay,
Who, from her mother's bosom torn
By thee, impatient of delay,
To the rapacious youth is borne;
O, Hymen! source of ev'ry joy;
God of the sacred nuptial tie!

To am'rous pairs tho' Venus proves
Indulgent; yet nor honest fame,
Nor honour wait their fruitful loves;
Unless thou sanctifiest the flame:
Then of all pow'rs, what power shall dare
With matchless Hymen to compare?

No sire of noble birth can grace
Posterity with boasted name,
No heritage can bless his race;
Unless thou sanctifiest his flame:
Then of all pow'rs, what pow'r shall dare
With matchless Hymen to compare?

If not beneath thy influence born,
None e'er can subject people sway;
But subject people will not scorn
A genuine offspring to obey:
Then of all pow'rs, what pow'r shall dare
With matchless Hymen to compare?

Wide, wide, ye portals, now unfold;
The long-expected maid is near;
See, with what rays of glitt'ring gold
The torches stream along the air:
Come beauteous bride, o come away!
The waining light rebukes thy stay.

But shame ingenuous will retard
Her steps, tears bathe her blushing charms;
To think the awful pomp's prepar'd,
That yields her to a husband's arms:
Come, beauteous bride, o, come away!
The waining light rebukes thy stay.

Cease thy vain terrors, nor bedew
With fruitless tears those radiant eyes:
Ne'er shall a nymph so lovely view
The day from ocean's bosom rise,
As thou, Aurunculeia's pride,
To worthiest, noblest blood allied.

Fair as the hyacinth, which grows
Superior to the varied blooms,
In cultur'd gardens that disclose
Their motley hues, their rich perfumes:
Come, beauteous bride, o come away!
The waining light rebukes thy stay.

O, bride so newly plighted, come!
(See, at our voice the bride appears!)
O list!——Behold, how thro' the gloom
The torches shake their golden hairs!
Lo, the sun beams with fainter ray;
Come, beauteous bride, o come away!

No lawless libertine, that roves
To raptures fraught with foul disgrace,
That riots in adult'rous loves,
Now woos thee to his fond embrace;
None, that apart could wish to rest
From the soft pillow of thy breast.

As cling the tendrils of the vine,
Enamour'd of its husband tree;
So shall the youth thy frame entwine,
So shall his arms encircle thee:
Lo, the sun beams with fainter ray;
Come, beauteous bride, o come away!

O, happy bed, upheld in bliss!
O, couches of soft pleasure, hail!
Receive your lord——what joys like his,
Can the mid-day, or night reveal?
Lo, the sun beams with fainter ray;
Come, beauteous bride, o come away!

Hither, ye boys, your torches bring;
She comes, in saffron veil array'd;
She comes! ye boys your pæans sing;
Go, and with transport greet the maid!
God of the tender nuptial tie;
O, hither, sacred Hymen, fly!

Soon shall the wanton song be heard;
And thou, that hast so frequent crown'd
The passions of thy lustful lord,
Throw to the boys thy nuts around:
For see, thy master, virtuous grown,
Disdains such worthless love to own.

Throw to the boys, thou loit'rer, throw
Thy mystic nuts; no more delay!
Each childish prank at length forego;
Thalassus now exerts his sway;
Hear, how his name our hymns resound;
Then throw thy mystic nuts around!

Late have I prov'd thy jealous pride,
Thou steward of thy lord's affairs;
But lo, the tireman of the bride
To smooth thy rough'ning chin prepares!
Wretch, who art now disgustful found,
Throw, throw thy mystic nuts around!

Yet soft licentious loves, 'tis said,
Allure thee still; but o forbear,
Thou essenc'd bridegroom, to degrade
Thy partial, thy deserving fair!
Sing Hymen, source of all our joys;
Sing the sweet God of nuptial ties!

Those raptures passion might allow,
Ere link'd in wedlock's pleasing chain,
'Tis certain ill befit thee now;
The marriage-bed such raptures stain:
Sing Hymen, source of all our joys;
Sing the sweet God of nuptial ties!

And ever, beauteous bride, beware
Thy husband's wishes to refuse;
Lest, courted by some kinder fair,
He gives to her thy am'rous dues:
Sing Hymen, source of all our joys;
Sing the sweet God of nuptial ties!

Lo, thine are honour, wealth, and fame;
For these attend thy potent lord;
These shall add lustre to thy name,
Shall comfort to thy life afford:
Sing Hymen, source of all our joys;
Sing the sweet God of nuptial ties!

Thus shalt thou long in love be blest,
Till age with trembling head shall call,
Old age in snowy ringlets drest,
That seems to nod assent to all:
Sing Hymen, source of all our joys;
Sing the sweet God of nuptial ties!

Enter, thou happy-omen'd fair!
The gate with polish'd labour bright;
And o'er the untouch'd threshold bear
Thy glitt'ring feet of golden light:
Sing Hymen, source of all our joys;
Sing the sweet God of nuptial ties!

Lo, on his purple couch reclin'd,
How hangs the bridegroom o'er thy charms;
And, as warm wishes fire his mind,
How oft he calls thee to his arms!
Sing Hymen, source of all our joys,
Sing the sweet God of nuptial ties!

Like thee he burns, and wild desires
Thro' all his inmost bosom roll;
Nay, more than equal to thy fires
Glows the fierce fever of his soul:
Sing Hymen, source of all our joys;
Sing the sweet God of nuptial ties!

Thou youth, in purple garb array'd,
Who chief dost on the bride attend,
Lend her thine arm's supporting aid,
The throne of rapture to ascend:
Sing Hymen, source of all our joys;
Sing the sweet God of nuptial ties!

Ye matrons of experienc'd age,
To your first husbands ever true,
Whose hearts no second loves engage,
Compose the maid in order due:
Sing Hymen, source of all our joys;
Sing the sweet God of nuptial ties!

Now, fervent bridegroom, mayst thou come;
Thy bride now prints the genial bed,
O'er whose warm cheek a brighter bloom
Is mid the circling fairness spread:
So white parthenium to the view
Shews, midst the poppy's glowing hue.

Nor, beauteous youth, is thy sweet face
(May heav'n protect me as I swear!)
Less gifted with enchanting grace;
Thou too art Cytherea's care:
Lo, the sun beams with fainter ray;
Come youth, o come without delay!

Thou com'st, nor hast thou long delay'd;
May Venus then propitious prove!
For now to every eye betray'd
Stands the known object of thy love:
Nor, as the gath'ring rumours fly,
Dost thou the honest flame deny.

He, who your various sports would count,
Your thousands of delights explore,
Must number first the sands' amount
That spread the Erythræan shore;
Must number every spark of light
That frets the azure vault of night.

Your am'rous sports, still, still pursue;
Crown'd may they be with fair increase!
From thee thrice-honour'd youth 'tis due,
To eternize thy boasted race;
That boasted race which ne'er shall die,
While thus in lusty sports ye vie.

And soon, to be completely blest,
Soon may a young Torquatus rise!
Who, hanging on his mother's breast,
To his known sire shall turn his eyes,
Out-stretch his infant arms awhile,
Half-ope his little lips, and smile.

In ev'ry feature of his face,
O, may the boy like Manlius shine!
That even strangers, as they trace
Each well-known mark, may stamp him thine!
May, from his lineal look, declare
How chaste thy consort, and how fair!

Nor less exalted be the praise
From his dear mother's worth acquir'd,
Than that which made, in ancient days,
The good Telemachus admir'd;
Whose virtues, and unblemish'd name,
Held up Penelope to fame!

Now close the doors, ye virgins fair;
Enough in sport have we pursu'd:
And o, ye soul-according pair,
Be love by death alone subdu'd!
Let not your youthful vigour sleep,
But one eternal vigil keep!