Hymns (Vexilla Regis, Pange Lingua) 1

A Hymn in Honor of the Holy Cross. The banners of the King go forth, the mystery of the Cross shines bright, whereon in flesh the Maker of flesh was hung upon the gibbet. Fastened with nails, his entrails stretched, his hands outstretched, by grace of redemption here was the sacrifice offered up. Wounded besides by the dread point of a lance, that he might wash us from our crime, there flowed forth water and blood. Fulfilled are the things which David sang in faithful song, declaring to the nations: 'God has reigned from the tree.' Tree fair and shining, adorned with the King's purple, chosen by a worthy trunk to touch such holy limbs! Blessed, on whose arms hung the ransom of the world! It was made a balance for his body, and bore away the prey from Tartarus. Thou pourest forth fragrance from thy bark, thou surpassest nectar in savor; joyful with fruitful produce, thou applaudest the noble triumph. Hail, O altar! Hail, O victim, from the glory of the passion, whereby Life endured death and by death restored life.

On the Church of Paris. If the structure of Solomon's temple be recalled, though it may equal this in art, this is more beautiful in faith. For whatever things there lay shut up before beneath the veil of the old law, here lie opened and revealed. That temple indeed flourished, interwoven with varied metal: this shines more brightly, stained with the blood of Christ; gold, stones, and cedar-wood adorned that one: upon this gleams the more venerable honor of the Cross. That old one stood, built with a talent doomed to fall: this house stands fixed firm at the price of the world. The splendid hall is raised on marble columns, and because it remains pure, the greater grace dwells within. The first part catches the rays, eyed with glass windows, and by the craftsman's hand it has enclosed the day within its citadel; with the courses of the Dawn the wandering light fills the panelled ceilings, and with its own beams it glitters even without the sun. These gifts the devout King Childebert, with surpassing love, gave to his people—gifts not to die.

Wholly cleaving in affection to the divine worship, he continually enlarged the riches of the Church; our Melchizedek, deservedly king and priest, though a layman, fulfilled the work of religion. Governing public laws and guarding the lofty palaces, he was, as the sole glory of bishops, a very rule. Departing hence, he lives yonder in the honor of his merits; here too he shall be everlasting in the praise of his deeds. To Rucco the deacon, now priest. O good Rucco, mighty minister of the Lord's altar, hence in haste I send you a work of greeting. The swollen waters of the Ocean sea flow round about me; you too, dear comrade, Paris holds; the Seine detains you, the British wave girds me round: one love binds together lands divided. No fury of the sea here withdraws that face from me, nor does the north wind, my friend, carry off your name. So often within my breast you return, O lover, as often as the sea-wave is wont to do in winter-time.

As the sea is shaken whenever the east wind has blown, even so, without you, dear one, my spirit will not be still. To Gogo. When Nectarius invited me to dinner: 'Wine, food, raiment, learning, means'—with thy lavish gifts, O Gogo, thou art enough for me; thou standest forth as a second Cicero, thou our Apicius; hence with words thou dost satisfy, and thence with food thou feedest. But now grant me pardon; with the beef swelling I rest, for a quarrel of the belly arises if mingled meat rages. Here where the ox reclines, the chicken, I think, will flee, and the goose; with horns and feathers the strife will not be even. And now already I close my eyes drooping with sleep; for my languid songs prove that I am asleep. To the lady Radegund. If the seasons brought me, as is their wont, white lilies, or if the comely rose were sweet with rosy blush, these, gathering in the country or on the turf of a poor man's garden, I would gladly have sent as small gifts to the great. But since the first are wanting to me, I pay with the second:

let him bring vetch who out of love would bring roses. Yet among these fragrant herbs which we have sent, the purple violets bear a noble bud. They breathe alike, tinged with royal purple, and from their leaves comes fragrance on the one hand, beauty on the other. Since they bear both alike, may you have both, and may the fragrance of the gift be a perennial grace from the flower. Likewise to the same lady, for the flowers sent. O mighty queen, to whom gold and purple are cheap, with little flowers a lover venerates you. And if it is not substance, yet the very color is there throughout the herbs: purple through the violets, golden form in the crocus. Rich in the love of God, you have scorned the rewards of the world: despising those, you shall retain these riches. Receive the gifts of various flowers sent to you, to which the blessed life calls you while you have the power. You who now afflict yourself, to be refreshed in the light to come, see from this what manner of field shall hold you.

Through these fragile boughs, which we now hold out to you with their fragrance, consider how great is the perfume that will refresh you from this. I pray that they to whom these are owed may, when you come to that place, draw me by your merits with a gentle right hand. Although the grace of paradise's flowers awaits you, these here long even now to look upon you again outdoors. And though they may seem to please with their exceptional scent, they adorn their own tresses still more when you return. The banners of the King go forth, the banners of the King go forth; the mystery of the Cross shines bright, whereby the Maker of flesh, made flesh, was hung upon the gibbet. There, wounded besides by the cruel point of a lance, that he might cleanse us of our crime, water flowed forth and blood. Fulfilled now are the things that David sang in faithful song, declaring: Among the nations God has reigned from the wood. O tree, beautiful and shining, adorned with the King's purple, chosen from a worthy stock to touch such holy limbs.

Blessed tree, upon whose arms hung the ransom of the age; it became the scales of his body and bore away the plunder of hell. Hail, O Cross, our only hope! In this glory of triumph increase righteousness to the godly and grant pardon to the guilty. May the supreme God, the Trinity, every spirit praise together: those whom you save through the mystery of the Cross, govern them through the ages. Amen.