Go, happy man, like th' evening star

Go, happy man, like th' evening star,
Whose beams to bridegrooms welcome are:
May neither hag, nor fiend withstand
The power of thy victorious hand.
The unchanted knights surrender now,
By virtue of thy raised bough.
Away, enchantments, vanish quite,
No more delay our longing sight:
'Tis fruitless to contend with Fate,
Who gives us power against your hate.
Brave knights, in courtly pomp appear,
For now are you long-looked-for here.