Ye good dames of fair renown to aged spouses, put ye the damsel a-bed. O Hymen Hymenaeus io, O Hymen Hymenaeus.
Now thou mayst come, O bridegroom: thy wife is in the bridal-bed, with face brightly blushing as white parthenice 'midst ruddy poppies.
But, O bridegroom (so help me the heaven-dwellers) in no way less beautiful art thou, nor doth
Venus slight thee. But the day slips by: on! nor more delay.
Nor long hast thou delayed, thou comest now. May kindly Venus help thee, since what thou dost desire thou takest publicly, and dost not conceal true love.
Of Afric's sands and glittering stars the number first let him tell, who wishes to keep count of your many-thousand sports.
Sport as ye like, and speedily give heirs. It does not become so old a name to be sans heirs, but for similar stock always to be generated.
A little Torquatus I wish, from his mother's bosom reaching out his dainty hands, and smiling sweetly at his father with lips apart.
May he be like his sire Manlius, and easily acknowledged by every stranger, and by his face point out his mother's faithfulness.
May such praise confirm his birth from true mother, such fame unique as rests with Telemachus from best of mothers, Penelope.