Meet the day with dancing pleasure,
Singing out a nuptial measure,
And with fine hand at the air
Shake the pine-torch with a flare.
For to day (so Beauty's Queen
Came to Paris to be seen)
Julia will her Manlius wed,
Good with good, a blessed bed :
Like a myrtle tree in flower,
Taken from an Asian bower,
Where with many a dewy cup
Nymphs in play had nursed it up.

Come then, quit the Thespian steep
With Aonian caverns deep,
Over which, like glass, and chill,
Aganippe's wells distil.

Call the bride home to her spouse,
Doubly bound by cordial vows,
As the ivy folds the tree
All about, tenaciously.
You, sweet virgins, in your prime,

So to fare another time.

Let the song to Hymen flow,
Hymen, Hymenous O!

For when he is called so, he
Will come to us willingly,
All that's wanting to confer,
Venus's right harbinger.
Who is he, ah tell me, who,
Lovers make more prayers unto?
Who is worshipped more by men,
Till his own skies ring again?

Let the song to Hymen flow,
Hymen, Hymenous O!

Thee the anxious parent blesses,
Thee the maid when she undresses,
Thee the bridegroom at the wall
Listening for the wish'd foot-fall.
'Tis by thee the mother's breast
Of the maid is dispossess'd,
And the blushing, budding thing
To the fierce youth made to cling.

Venus without thee can plan
No right pleasure; but she can,
Thợu consenting. Who shall dare
Then with this God to compare ?
Parents without thee can plan
House nor offspring; but they can,

Thou consenting. Who shall dare Then with this God to compare?

Without thee, none born can play Parts of rulers ; but they may, Thou consenting. Who shall dare Then with this God to compare?

But the doors set open wide,
For she comes,—the bride, the bride!
Don't you see the torches there,
How they shake their shining hair?
Come, the day is almost done,
Haste, thou newly married one.
'Tis but sweet ingenuous shame;
Nay, she weeps to hear her name.
Come, the day is almost done;
Haste, thou newly married one.

Weep no more. What fear can be
Thine, than whom a fairer she
Shall not have beheld this day
Clearing from the seas away.
In a fine, rich garden so
You may see the hyacinth blow.
But the day is almost done;
Haste, thou newly married one.

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Haste, thou newly married, haste :
Yes, she hears our call at last.
Don't you see the torches there,
How they shake their golden hair?
Come then, come: thy husband shall
Into no wrong courses fall,
Nor for once, to lie apart,
Take him from thy tender heart.