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| TWELVE 1 Spartan Virgins, noble, young, and fair, | |
| With Violet wreaths adorn’d their flowing hair; | |
| And to the pompous Palace did resort, | |
| Where Menelaus kept his Royal Court. | |
| There hand in hand a comely Quire they led; | 5 |
| To sing a blessing to his Nuptial Bed, | |
| With curious Needles wrought, and painted Flow’rs bespread. | |
| Joves beauteous Daughter now his Bride must be, | |
| And Jove himself was less a God than he: | |
| For this their artful hands instruct the Lute to sound, | 10 |
| Their feet assist their hands, and justly beat the ground. | |
| This was their Song: Why, happy Bridegroom, why, | |
| E’re yet the Stars are kindl’d in the Skie, | |
| E’re twilight shades, or Ev’ning dews are shed, | |
| Why dost thou steal so soon away to Bed? | 15 |
| Has Somnus brush’d thy Eye-lids with his Rod, | |
| Or do thy Legs refuse to bear their Load | |
| With flowing bowles of a more generous God? | |
| If gentle Slumber on thy Temples creep, | |
| (But naughty Man thou dost not mean to sleep) | 20 |
| Betake thee to thy Bed, thou drowzy Drone, | |
| Sleep by thy self, and leave thy Bride alone: | |
| Go, leave her with her Maiden Mates to play | |
| At sports more harmless, till the break of day: | |
| Give us this Evening: thou hast Morn and Night, | 25 |
| And all the year before thee, for delight. | |
| O happy Youth! to thee, among the crowd | |
| Of Rival Princes, Cupid sneez’d aloud; | |
| And every lucky Omen sent before, | |
| To meet thee landing on the Spartan shore. | 30 |
| Of all our Heroes thou canst boast alone, | |
| That Jove, when e’re he Thunders, calls thee Son. | |
| Betwixt two Sheets thou shalt enjoy her bare, | |
| With whom no Grecian Virgin can compare | |
| So soft, so sweet, so balmy, and so fair. | 35 |
| A Boy like thee 2 would make a Kingly line: | |
| But oh, a Girl like her must be divine. | |
| Her equals we, in years, but not in face, | |
| Twelve score Virago’s of the Spartan Race, | |
| While naked to Eurota’s 3 banks we bend, | 40 |
| And there in manly exercise contend, | |
| When she appears, are all eclips’d and lost, | |
| And hide the beauties that we made our boast. | |
| So, when the Night and Winter disappear, | |
| The Purple morning, rising with the year, | 45 |
| Salutes the spring, as her Celestial eyes | |
| Adorn the World, and brighten all the Skies: | |
| So beauteous Helen shines among the rest, | |
| Tall, slender, straight, with all the Graces blest. | |
| As Pines the Mountains, or as Fields the Corn, | 50 |
| Or as Thessalian Steeds the Race adorn; | |
| So Rosie colour’d Helen is the pride | |
| Of Lacedemon, and of Greece beside. | |
| Like her no Nymph can willing Ozyers bend | |
| In basket-works, which painted streaks commend: | 55 |
| With Pallas in the Loomb she may contend. | |
| But none, ah! none can animate the Lyre, | |
| And the mute strings with Vocal Souls inspire: | |
| Whether the Learn’d Minerva be her Theam, | |
| Or chaste Diana bathing in the Stream; | 60 |
| None can record their Heavenly praise so well | |
| As Helen, in whose eyes ten thousand Cupids dwell. | |
| O fair, O Graceful! yet with Maids inroll’d, | |
| But whom to morrow’s Sun a Matron shall behold! | |
| Yet e’re to morrow’s Sun shall show his head, | 65 |
| The dewy paths of meadows we will tread. | |
| For Crowns and Chaplets to adorn thy head. | |
| Where all shall weep, and wish for thy return, | |
| As bleating Lambs their absent Mother mourn. | |
| Our Noblest Maids shall to thy Name bequeath | 70 |
| The boughs of Lotos, form’d into a wreath. | |
| This Monument, thy Maiden beauties due, | |
| High on a Plane tree shall be hung to view: | |
| On the smooth rind the Passenger shall see | |
| Thy Name ingrav’d, and worship Helens Tree: | 75 |
| Balm, from a Silver box distill’d around | |
| Shall all bedew the roots, and scent the sacred ground. | |
| The balm, ’tis true, can aged Plants prolong, | |
| But Helens name will keep it ever young. | |
| Hail Bride, hail Bridegroom, son in Law to Jove! | 80 |
| With fruitful joys Latona bless your Love! | |
| Let Venus furnish you with full desires, | |
| Add vigour to your wills, and fuel to your fires! | |
| Almighty Jove augment your wealthy store, | |
| Give much to you, and to his Grandsons more! | 85 |
| From generous Loyns a generous Race will spring, | |
| Each Girl, like her, a Queen; each Boy, like you, a King. | |
| Now sleep if sleep you can; but while you rest, | |
| Sleep close, with folded arms, and breast to breast: | |
| Rise in the morn; but oh before you rise, | 90 |
| Forget not to perform your morning Sacrifice. | |
| We will be with you e’re the crowing Cock | |
| Salute the light, and struts before his feather’d Flock. | |
| Hymen, oh Hymen, to thy Triumphs run, | |
| And view the mighty spoils thou hast in Battle won. | 95 |
