Throw open the fastenings of the door; the bride is coming. See you how the torches shake their shining tresses? * * noble shame delays. 80
* * Yet listening rather to this, she weeps for81 that she must go.
Cease to weep. Not to you, Aurunculeia, is there86 danger that any fairer woman shall see the bright85 day coming from ocean.96
So in the painted garden of a rich owner stands a hyacinth flower — but you delay, the day is passing;90 come forth, new bride.
Come forth, new bride, if now you will, and hear our words. See how the torches shake their golden95 tresses! — come forth, new bride.
Your husband will not, lightly given to some wicked paramour, following shameful ways of dis- 100 honour, wish to lie apart from your soft breast.
As the pliant vine entwines the trees planted near it, so will he be entwined in your embrace. But the day is passing; come forth, new bride. 105
