IDYL XVIII. EPITHALAMIUM. TWELVE Spartan virgins, the Laconian bloom, "So early, bridegroom! fix'd in slumber deep? So heavy-limbed, with such a love for sleep? Thyself, wine-heavy, on the bed hast thrown For only rest? thou shouldst have slept alone, And with her mother left the girl to play She's thine from day to day, and year to year- Only of demigods, whose bosomed love Her husband makes the son-in-law of Jove! Thrice eighty virgins we pursued the race, Not one, in whom some blemish was not spied. Shows from thy bosom dark her face of light; The lofty cypress shoots up eminent; As of the chariot the Thessalian steed, Is ornament and grace. Like Helen none Like Helen, in whose liquid-shining eyes Fruitful Latona fruit of marriage give; Hymen, O Hymenæan! joyful spread With love's contentment sweet this marriage-bed. |