LV
῎Υμεν’ ᾽Υμήναον ·
῏Ω τὸν Αδώνιον·
O Hymen Hymenaeus,
Come in thy yellow shoes,
With crimson marjoram about thy head :
Assembled see us !
Shaking thy torch, diffuse
A pinewood richness ; let thy welcome tread
Beat on the ground.
Unkindly day is fled.
Ah for Adonis ! Hymen, hear
The cry of those around the bier ;
Keen is thy bliss, and frail our growth,
And we are wronged if thou art loath
To visit us with thine exultant cheer.
O Hymen Hymenaeus,
Soft glows the evening-star,
The loveliest in the heavens and thy delight :
Thou must not flee us !
The bridegroom from his car
Descends, he has his shining girl in sight,
His door is wreathed. Young god, it is the night!
Ah for Adonis ! To the tree
And herb sweet life returns, but we
In unstirred winter must grow numb,
Except we feel youth's stir and hum
As flocks of children gather at our knee.
O Hymen Hymenaeus,
Thou hast ambrosial breath ;
We love the grave, sweet fashion of thy suit—
Espousing, free us
From the harsh rape of death ;
And we funereal discord will confute
With silver laughter and with Lydian flute.
Io, Io ! thou comest, and no word
Of threnody near thee is heard ;
Thou linkest in a living joy
This virgin and this noble boy :
For time's defeat thy blessing is conferred.
