1.
Move now with measured sound,
You charmed grove of gold,
Trace forth the sacred ground
That shall your forms unfold.
Diana and the starry night
For your Apollo’s sake
Endue your silvan shapes with power
This strange delight to make.
Much joy must needs the place betide,
Where trees for gladness move;
A fairer sight was ne’er beheld,
Or more expressing love.
2.
Yet nearer Phoebus’ throne
Meet on your winding ways,
Your bridal mirth make known
In your high-graced Hayes.
Let Hymen lead your sliding rounds,
And guide them with his light,
While we do ‘Io Hymen’ sing
In honour of this night.
Join three by three, for so the night
By triple spell decrees,
Now to release Apollo’s knights
From these enchanted trees.