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EPITHALAMIUM[1].
Virgin, brighter than the morning,
Haste and finish thy adorning!
Hymen claims his promised day,—
Come from thy chamber, come away!
Roses strew, and myrtles bring,
Till you drain the wasted Spring;—
The altars are already drest,
The bower is fitted for its guest,
The scattered rose begins to fade,—
Come away, reluctant maid!
See what a war of blushes breaks
O'er the pure whiteness of her cheeks;
- ↑ Designed for the opening of a Tragedy.
