Hymen

To bed, to bed.

Come, Hymen, lead the bride, And lay her by her husband's side.

Bring in the virgins every one That grieve to lie alone, That they may kiss while they may say a maid.

To-morrow t'will be other, kissed and said, Hesperus be long a-shining, Whilst these lovers are a-twining.

The vapours of the night will not fall here.

To bed, my love.

Hymen will punish us for being slack performers of his rights.

Camest thou to call me?

Well then, my lord, if you must have the account in quiet prose, thus it was.

Phoebus one morning rose in the east, and having handed him the long-expected day, he caught up his brother Hymen.

Have done with your rhapsody.

Aye, I knew you'd like it best in verse.

to be the judge.

Enter Amelia.

Amelia, you have a brother.

I have just heard so, my lord, and rejoice to find the news confirmed by you.

At morn, at evening, at his work was he, And dreamed what his Euripides would be.

Then care began: he loved, he wooed, he wed: Hope cheered him still, and Hymen blest his bed.

A curate's bed! then came the woeful years, The husband's terrors and the father's tears.

A wife grown feeble, mourning, pining, vexed With wants and woes, by daily cares perplexed; No more a help, a smiling, soothing aid, But boding, drooping, sickly, and afraid.

These and the tasks successive masters brought; The French they conned, the curious works they wrought; The hours they made their taper fingers strike Note after note, all dull to them alike; Their drawings, dancings on appointed days, Playing with globes, and getting parts of plays; The tender friendships made 'twixt heart and heart, When the dear friends had nothing to impart; All, all are over.

Now the accomplished maid Longs for the world, of nothing there afraid; Dreams of delight invade her gentle breast, And fancied lovers rob the heart of rest.

At the paternal door a carriage stands; Love knits their hearts, and Hymen joins their hands.

Ah! world unknown! how charming is thy view, Thy pleasures many, and each pleasure new! Ah! world experienced! what of thee is told? How few thy pleasures, and those few how old! Within a silent street, and far apart From noise of business, from a quay or mart, Stands an old spacious building, and the din You hear without explains the work within.

I will not keep him company in his drink for a world.

But what good do you, Sir Abraham, on my daughter? I could be incontent my Lucida would skip your wit and look upon your wealth, and this one day let Hymen crown ye all.

o no she laughs at me and scorns my suit for she is wild and more hard withal than beast or bird or tree or stony wall hath

god a mercy old hieronimo

I see an army raging to attack them.

And now, to add a sore wound, I see flames to devour my country in the torch of Hymen.

Far from Aulis and from you, forever wretched and unknown forever, let me go hide a fate that claims compassion, whose bitterness these tears but half express.

too much fair princess come that in the sight of greece achilles may pronounce you free this hour to me more sweet than all before shall gladden you with liberty once more

Allied with this is the contrast between the Greek and the Christian idea of death.

It is strikingly presented in a visible form on a fine antique sarcophagus in the gallery of Florence, which exhibits in relief the whole series of ceremonies attending a wedding in ancient times, from the formal offer to the evening when Hymen's torch lights the happy couple's home.

Compare that with the Christian coffin, draped in mournful black and surmounted with a crucifix.

How much significance there is in these two ways of finding comfort in death.