Evening is here, young men, come rise, the long-awaited
Evening Star only just projects its lights on high.
Now is the time to rise, now, to leave the rich-laden tables,
Now the virgin will arrive and the wedding hymn be sung.
Hymen, o Hymenaee, Hymen come, o Hymenaee.
Do you see the young men, maidens? Rise together, face them;
The Evening Star exposes the mid-mountain fires,
Yes, did you see how nimbly they jumped?
They did not jump for nothing, their singing’s worth seeing.
Hymen, o Hymenaee, Hymen come, o Hymenaee.
Gentlemen, we are not assured the victory palm,
See how the maidens rehearse among themselves.
They do not rehearse in vain: what they have is memorable,
And no wonder since they strive with full intent;
We divide our attention and divert our ears elsewhere.
It’s only right we are defeated, for victory adores focus.
So come, now at least focus your minds.
Soon they will start to sing, soon now you’ll need to respond.
Hymen, o Hymenaee, Hymen come, o Hymenaee.
Hesperus, what crueller fire is carried in the sky?
You can bear to tear a daughter from her mother’s embrace,
Can bear to tear a daughter as she clings to her mother’s embrace
And to give a pure girl to a fervid young man.
What crueller act do enemies commit in a city they have captured?
Hymen, o Hymenaee, Hymen come, o Hymenaee.
Hesperus, what fire more pleasant shines in the sky?
You can fortify with your flame the bond of marriage
Which groom and parents pledge
But not consummate before your heat is blazing.
What is more desired from the gods than the happy hour?
Hymen, o Hymenaee, Hymen come, o Hymenaee.
Hesperus, Evening Star, has stolen one of us,
Fellow maidens … [corruption in text] …
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For when you come the guard is always vigilant,
At night the thieves hide, and often you turn back on them,
Hesperus, you catch them as your name turns to Dawn.
But the maidens love to carp at you in contrived complaint.
But why, if they carp, do they seek you in the silence of their hearts?
Hymen, o Hymenaee, Hymen come, o Hymenaee.
As a hidden flower is born in a hedged garden,
Unknown to the flock, mowed by no plough,
A flower the breezes stroke, the sun fortifies, the rain feeds,
Which many boys, many girls desire;
When plucked by a tender hand it withers,
No boys, no girls, desire it,
So a virgin, while she remains untouched, is dear to her family;
But when she has lost her pure flower, her body tainted,
She is no longer desirable to boys, no longer dear to girls.
Hymen, o Hymenaee, Hymen come, o Hymenaee.
Like the unwed vine born on a fallow field,
Who never lifts her head, never produces ripe grapes,
But bowing her delicate body beneath her own weight
Nearly, nearly, touches her topmost shoot to her root;
No farmers, no bullocks have cultivated her,
But if she were joined to an elm like a husband
Many farmers, many bullocks, cultivate her,
So a virgin, while she remains untouched, grows old while uncultivated.
When she enters a fair marriage at the age of maturity
She is dearer to her husband and less hateful to her father.
And do not fight with such a husband, maiden.
It is not fair to fight the man your own father bestowed you upon,
Your very father, with your mother, whom you must obey.
Your virginity is not wholly yours, but part is your parents’,
A third your father’s, a third is your mother’s.
A third alone is yours. Do not fight the two
Who have given you lawfully with dowry to their son-in-law.
Hymen, o Hymenaee, Hymen come, o Hymenaee.