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.