Oh Hymen Hymenaeus


        ῎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.