34
A chosen band unyokes the weary steeds,
Their bits removes, and to their pasture leads;
While some the bridal chamber make their care,
Its curtains and its tapestries prepare,
And deck the lintel stone with branches fair.
Elysian matrons round their Queen rejoice,
Her terrors calming with their gentle voice,
Bind her dishevell'd locks, and o'er her brow
A veil to hide her blushes lightly throw.
Through all the pale dominion gladness reigns;
The murky silence yields to festive strains:
The Shades and Manes, from their tombs released,
With crowns adorn'd, attend the genial feast.
Beneath the lash no tortured sinners howl;
Night grows less dark, and Erebus less foul;
Indulgent Minos gives his urn repose,
And grants a respite from Tartarean woes.
No more Ixion whirls upon his wheel,
The lips of Tantalus the waters feel:
Awhile may Tityus lift his members vast,
That o'er nine acres broad their covering cast:
Awhile the vulture leaves his heart's repast—
Unwilling leaves it—and, with anger grim,
Beholds the fibres grow, but not for him.
