Carmen de Pascha

Of Venantius Honorius Clementianus Fortunatus, an Italian priest, to Felix the bishop, on Easter. The seasons gleam, distinct with flower-bearing fair weather; and the gate of the greater light of the sky lies open. The heaven’s orbit leads the fire-vomiting sun higher, which, wandering, enters and leaves the Ocean’s waters. Armed with rays, surveying the flowing elements, on this short night it stretches the day across the world. The shining ethers produce a sincere countenance, and the bright stars prove their own joy. The fertile earth pours forth various little gifts from its cultivation; when it has well grown green, the year also returns its wealth. Soft violet-beds paint the plain purple; meadows grow green with grasses, and the grass gleams with its tresses. Gradually the starry lights of flowers rise up; all the grasses smile at their own blossoms. With the seed deposited, the crop springs forth far and wide over the fields, promising the farmer that he can overcome hunger. The white vine, deserted, weeps for its joys; whence it will give wine, now the vine gives water. Rising from the mother’s bark with tender down, the swelling bud prepares its bosom for birth; and, having shed the hair of its leaves in the winter time, the greening grove now repairs its leafy roof. Mixed together: willow, fir, hazel, osier, elm, maple, [walnut,]

Each tree rejoices with its own lovely foliage. The bee, about to build honeycombs, leaves its hives, and buzzing among the flowers, snatches honey with its legs. The bird, which, silent with its song closed, was mute in the winter cold, is called back to singing. Hence Philomela tunes her instruments to her reeds; and the breeze, echoed back, becomes sweeter with the melody. Behold, the grace of the reborn world bears witness that all gifts have returned together with their Lord. For to Christ, triumphant after the sad underworld, the grove everywhere with its foliage, the grasses with their flowers, give favor. With the laws of hell crushed, as he journeys above the stars, light, the sky, the fields, the sea duly praise God. He who was crucified, behold God reigns through all things; and all created things offer a prayer to the Creator. Hail, festal day, venerable for all time, on which God conquered hell and holds the stars. The motion of the year, the months, the nurturing light of days, the splendor of the hours—all things creaking give favor. On one side the forest favors you with its foliage, on another the field applauds with its ears of grain; on another the vine gives thanks with its silent shoot. On another side now the thickets resound with the whisper of birds for you; among these the sparrow sings with excessive love. Christ, salvation of things, good creator and redeemer, only offspring from the deity of the father, flowing forth ineffably from the parent's heart, subsisting Word, and powerful from the father's mouth, equal, harmonious, a companion, coeternal with the father, by whom as prince the world took its beginning; you suspend the ethers, you gather the lands, you pour out the seas; things that dwell in their places equally, which flourish moderated. Who, seeing the human race sunk in the deep,

To rescue man, you also became man. Not only did you wish to be born from our body, but also as flesh, which endured birth and death. The new author of the world, and of the father’s funeral rites, within the path of death, working the work of salvation. The sad bonds of infernal law ceased; and chaos feared to be pressed by the mouth of light. The shadows perish, put to flight by the radiance of Christ: the thick cloaks of eternal night fall. But grant anxious faith, I pray, nurturing power. The third light has returned: arise, my buried one. It is not fitting that your limbs be gathered in a tomb; let not the cheap stones of the world press upon you. It is unworthy that he, by whose fist all things are enclosed, should be covered by a stone, a rock forbidding him. Take away the linens, I pray; leave the shrouds in the sepulcher: you are enough for us; and without you, nothing exists. Release the chained shades of the prison of hell, and recall upward whatever has sunk to the depths. Show your face, that the ages may see the light; give back the day, which fled us when you died. But you have plainly fulfilled your task, returning, pious victor, to Olympus: the Tartarus lies crushed, nor do its laws hold. The insatiable underworld, opening its hollow gullet, which always snatched, becomes your prey, O God. You snatch an innumerable people from the prison of death; and the people follow free, wherever their author goes. The fearful beast vomits forth the swallowed multitude; and the lamb withdraws the sheep from the wolf’s jaws. Hence, seeking the tomb again after Tartarus, with flesh resumed,

To the heavens, the warrior, you bear back ample trophies. Those whom penal chaos held, this man has now restored; and those whom death would seek, a new way of life soothes. Sacred king, behold, a great part of your trophy shines, when holy baptisms bless pure souls. A gleaming army emerges from the shining waters; and ancient vice is cleansed in a new stream. A white garment also marks the shining souls; and the shepherd has joy from a snow-white flock. To this is added the happy, harmonious priest with his reward, who wishes to give double talents to his Lord. Drawing those wandering in gentile error toward better things, lest the beast snatch them, he fortifies the fold of God. Those whom guilty Eve once infected, the shepherd of the Church now restores with the milk of a bountiful breast. By cultivating wild hearts with gentle words, through the gift of Felix, a harvest born from a briar. The harsh Saxon people, living as if with a wild custom, with you healing, O sacred one, the beast renders a sheep. With a hundredfold return, destined to remain with you through the age, you fill the granaries with an abundant harvest. May this immaculate people be borne in your arms, and may you bear a pure pledge to God to the stars. One crown may be given to you and granted from on high, another may bloom from your people, gained by you.