As the soft vine folds the tree,
Folded shall he live with thee.
But the day is almost done ; Haste, thou newly married one.
Lift the torches :-'tis the veil
This way coming. Hail it, hail !
Let the air with Hymen ring;
Hymen, Io Hymen, sing.
Soon the nuts will now be flung;
Soon the wanton verses sung;
Soon the bridegroom will be told
Of the tricks he played of old.
License then his love had got;
But a husband has it not.
Let the air with Hymen ring;
Hymen, Io Hymen, sing.
Thou too, married one, take care,
What he looks for, not to spare,
Lest he look for it elsewhere.
Let the air with Hymen ring;
So shalt thou (O joy to see !)
Corner-stone and pillar be
To his house and family.
(Let the air with Hymen ring;
Hymen, Io Hymen, sing!)
Even till age, with snow bespread, Trembling still it's fine old head,
Seems to nod to all that's said.
Let the air with Hymen ring;
Fine of foot, with omen due
O’er the threshold now step true,
And the polish'd door go through.
Let the air with Hymen ring;
Hymen, Io Hymen, sing!
There, within, thy husband see On his purple couch, how he Yearns with all his looks for thee.
Let the air with Hymen ring;
In that burning breast of his,
Deep as thine a flame there is ;
Nay, by Venus, deeper 'tis.
Let the air with Hymen ring;
Hymen, lo Hymen, sing!
Gentle boy, thou may'st let go
Of the passive arm of snow :
Others will the chamber shew.
Let the air with Hymen ring;
You, good women, who have led
Honour'd lives, one husbanded,
Lay the gentle girl in bed.
Let the air with Hymen ring;
Hymen, Io Hymen, sing !
Husband, now 'tis time for thee. Wife at last, there hideth she With a hue that comes and goes, Now like lily, and now like rose. Ay, and thou too, nevertheless, Wantest not thy handsomeness,
Nor has Venus done thee wrong;
But the time goes; come along.
Nay, thou hast not stopp'd indeed :-
Blessed Venus be thy speed,
For thou play'st an open part,
Nor hast hid love's honest heart.
Take thy joy; and let us see
Shortly a fair progeny,
For a name so old as thine
Must not be without it's line,
But succeed, like moon to moon.
May a young Torquatus soon,
Lying next his mother's heart,
Stretch his little hands apart,
And with mouth half ope the while,
Sweetly at his father smile.
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