Classic Poem

YOUTHS .

Now Hesper gilds the dusky brow of night;
Rise, tuneful youths; the long-expected light
Beams with soft radiance from yon vaulted skies,
'Tis Hesper beams; ye tuneful youths arise:
The festive board employs your care too long;
The virgin comes; begin the bridal song.
Come, sacred Hymen, source of all our joys;
O, Hymen come, sweet God of nuptial ties!

VIRGINS .

Rise, virgins rise; behold the youths are nigh;
With theirs, ye virgins, let our numbers vie:
Lo! Hesper glitters from the azure plain,
And leads o'er Oeta's top his starry train:
Quick rise the youths; and hark, the song they raise:
Surpass that song, ye virgins, with your lays.
Come, sacred Hymen, source of all our joys;
O, Hymen come, sweet God of nuptial ties!

YOUTHS .

Think not, my lov'd associates, ye shall find
An easy triumph to your task assign'd:
Mark how the virgins muse, nor muse in vain;
E'en now they meditate some nobler strain;
While we, unmindful of our votive lays,
In silent rapture on their beauties gaze:
Then justly shall the virgins conquest boast,
For conquest favours those who labour most:
Be bold, fond youths; be song your chief concern:
The virgins sing; fond youths, the lay return.
Come, sacred Hymen, source of all our joys;
O, Hymen come, sweet God of nuptial ties!

VIRGINS .

O, Hesperus, what star thro' heav'n can shine
With more malignant rays, fell star! than thine?
Thou, who dost tear the maid of blooming grace
From the fond mother's ling'ring close embrace,
And to the ardent youth's impatient arms
Dost yield with savage joy her virgin charms:
Say, what more cruel can the victors do,
Whose lusts pollute the cities they subdue?
Come, sacred Hymen, source of all our joys;
O, Hymen come, sweet God of nuptial ties!

YOUTHS .

O, Hesperus, what star thro' heav'n can shine
With rays more chearful, welcome star! than thine?
Thou, mildly bright, who dost aloud proclaim
The parent's promise, and the lover's flame;
For, till thy blaze illumes the cope of night,
Love bids us to delay the wish'd delight:
Say, what more blissful can the gods bestow,
Than the fond hour that crowns each am'rous vow?
Come, sacred Hymen, source of all our joys;
O, Hymen come, sweet God of nuptial ties!

VIRGINS .

Mourn, my compeers; ah, mourn the fatal day
When Hesperus rude snatch'd our friend away!
Love's guard is set, whene'er thy beams appear;
And, screen'd by night, tho' spoilers seek the fair;
Yet thy bright rays the furtive youths surprize,
When, with chang'd name, thou gild'st the morning skies.
Come, sacred Hymen, source of all our joys;
O, Hymen come, sweet God of nuptial ties!

YOUTHS .

O, heed not, Hesper, this pretended rage,
This sportive war which virgins love to wage!
Enough for thee, that with a silent sigh
They call thee oft their friend, and wish thee nigh.
Come, sacred Hymen, source of all our joys;
O, Hymen come, sweet God of nuptial ties!

VIRGINS .

As, in a garden fenc'd with skilful care,
By herds uncropt, unwounded by the share,
Some latent flow'r displays its blushing hues;
Which, while it drinks pure gales, and fost'ring dews,
Drinks the strong sunshine that its bosom warms,
Each longing youth, each longing maid it charms;
But, from the tender stem once pluckt, it fades,
And charms no more the longing youths and maids:
So, while the nymph her flow'r untouch'd retains,
Her sex's dearest pride she still remains;
But, from that nymph if one chaste bud be torn,
Both youth and maid her worthless beauty scorn.
Come, sacred Hymen, source of all our joys;
O, Hymen come, sweet God of nuptial ties!

YOUTHS .

As unsustain'd some vine in desert fields
Nor lifts its head, nor purple fruitage yields;
But, bending down with weight, on earth it throws
The drooping honours of its languid boughs,
Whose tender shoots in wild luxuriance spread,
And level with their parent root are laid;
By lab'ring hinds that vine neglected lies,
And youthful villagers the plant despise:
But, if a kinder fate should bless the vine,
And round some wedded elm it chance to twine;
Not then neglected by the hind it lies,
Nor does the villager the plant despise:
So the chaste maid, grown old, ere wedlock's chain
Has link'd her fate, is scorn'd by ev'ry swain;
But, if in wedlock's chain she's timely bound,
Her lover's hope, her parent's wish is crown'd.
Then, o, resist not, when thou'rt urg'd to prove,
Sweet nymph, the transports of connubial love!
Well it becomes thee, duteous to receive
Whate'er thy parents may vouchsafe to give.
Not wholly thine thy chastity, my fair;
Thy father, and thy mother claim a share;
Each a third part, one only third thine own;
Then how resist, where two contend with one?
And surely they, who gave thy portion due,
May give their interest in thy beauty too.
Come, sacred Hymen, source of all our joys;
O, Hymen come, sweet God of nuptial ties!