[The Hymenaeus was the wedding-song, so called because of its refrain “Hymen O!  Hymenae’ O!” The god of marriage, Hymen, took his origin and name from the hymn, was afterwards decked out richly with myths, and finally, according to Catullus, received a seat on Mount Helikon with the Muses.]

[A Greek bride was beautifully adorned for her marriage, and her bridesmaids received holiday garments.  Homer, Odyss.  VI. 27.  Besides which, after the bath, which both bride and bridegroom were obliged to take, she was anointed with sweet-smelling essences.  Thucyd.  II. 15.  Xenoph.  Symp.  II. 3.]

“We will conduct the maiden thither by the centre door, and there we will enjoy a merry wedding-feast by the family hearth.  Here, slavegirls, come and form yourselves into two choruses.  Half of your number take the part of the youths; the other half that of the maidens, and sing us Sappho’s Hymenaeus.  I will be the torch-bearer; that dignity is mine by right.  You must know, Bartja, that my family has an hereditary right to carry the torches at the Eleusinian mysteries and we are therefore called Daduchi or torch-bearers.  Ho, slave! see that the door of the andronitis is hung with flowers, and tell your comrades to meet us with a shower of sweetmeats as we enter.  That’s right, Melitta; why, how did you manage to get those lovely violet and myrtle marriage-crowns made so quickly?  The rain is streaming through the opening above.  You see, Hymen has persuaded Zeus to help him; so that not a single marriage-rite shall be omitted.  You could not take the bath, which ancient custom prescribes for the bride and bridegroom on the morning of their wedding-day, so you have only to stand here a moment and take the rain of Zeus as an equivalent for the waters of the sacred spring.  Now, girls, begin your song.  Let the maidens bewail the rosy days of childhood, and the youths praise the lot of those who marry young.”

Five well-practised treble voices now began to sing the chorus of virgins in a sad and plaintive tone.

Suddenly the song was hushed, for a flash of lightning had shone down through the aperture beneath which Kallias had stationed the bride and bridegroom, followed by a loud peal of thunder.  “See!” cried the Daduchus, raising his hand to heaven, “Zeus himself has taken the nuptial-torch, and sings the Hymenaeus for his favorites.”

At dawn the next morning, Sappho and Bartja left the house and went into the garden.  After the violent storm which had raged all night, the garden was looking as fresh and cheerful in the morning light as the faces of the newly-married pair.

Bartja’s anxiety for his friends, whom he had almost forgotten in the excitement of his marriage, had roused them so early.