Venantius Fortunatus was a 6th century bishop and poet (c. 530 - 600/609)
The seasons blush varied with fairer weather,
and the sky-gate opens to the greater light.
The path of the fire-breathing sun rises higher,
before dipping beneath the ocean's depth.
He is armed with rays of light and warmth,
travelling and traversing the liquid elements.
Brilliant skies shine forth their countenance,
and the bright stars radiate with joy.
The earth pours out its gifts increasingly,
as the year returns to its springtime wealth.
Soft beds of violets paint the plain purple;
and the herbs smile bright with their beautiful blooms.
The corn springs up far and wide in the fields,
hope for the hunger of the husbandman.
Deserting its stem, the vineshoot extends in joy,
drawing in water and giving out wine.
For in honour of Christ, rising triumphant
after descending to the gloom of death,
every grove with its leaves expresses approval;
the birds and the flowers proclaim his praise.
The light of the heavens, the fields, and the sea
worship our God, ascending to the stars.
Having crushed the laws of death and hell,
he who was crucified ascends over all.
Welcome this day, all of creation:
Jesus has conquered and gained the stars!
The changes of years and the light of days,
all things applaud you and offer their praise.
The leaves of the trees clap in excitement;
the vine, with its silent shoots, gives you its thanks.
The thickets resound with the chatter of birdsong;
every sparrow sings with exuberant love.
O Christ, you saw us plunged in our misery.
To rescue humanity you became man:
you chose human flesh, to be born and to die;
the Author of life had the rites of a funeral;
you entered the path of death for salvation,
smashing the gloomy chains of the law.
The chaos shrunk from the light of your presence;
darkness has fled with the brightness of dawn.
The third day has come and you have arisen:
the promise fulfilled, your reign has begun.
It was so unfitting for your limbs to lie buried,
for worthless stones to hide the world's ransom.
It was so unworthy that a rock should confine you,
the One who encloses all things in your hands.
Cast off the linen clothes, leave them behind you:
you are enough for us; without you is nothing.
The chains of death have been released;
what sank below is recalled above.
Your face is seen that all may see light;
the day returns which fled at your death.
Return, holy Conqueror, filling the heavens!
Hell lies suppressed, its rights gone for good.
Satan the spoiler has fallen prey to you,
and your people follow you, free from the grave.
Good Shepherd, enjoy your snow-white flock.
Draw wandering sheep from the beast of prey.
Those whom Adam's guilt once had poisoned,
restore and nurture within your church.
May what is sown return to you hundredfold,
filling your barns with an abundant crop.
Strengthen your people, safe in your arms:
keep us blameless and bear us to the stars.
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