No light victory this, O comrades, ready before us.
Busy the virgins muse, their practis'd ditty recalling,
Muse nor shall miscarry; a song for memory waits us.
Rightly; for all their souls do inwards labour in issue.
We--our thoughts one way, our ears have drifted another, 15
So comes worthy defeat; no victory calls to the careless.
Come then, in even race let thought their melody rival;
They must open anon; 'twere better anon be replying.
Hymen O Hymenaeus, O Hymen come Hymenaeus.