Salvete Flores

Salvete, flores Martyrum, 
In lucis ipso lumine 
Quos ssevus ensis messuit, 
Ceu turbo nascentes rosas.

All hail, ye little Martyr flowers,
Sweet rosebuds cut in dawning hours!
When Herod sought the Christ to find
Ye fell as bloom before the wind.

Vos prima Cbristi victima,
Grex immolatorum tener,
Aram sub ipsam simplices
Palma et coronis luditis.

First victims of the Martyr bands,
With crowns and palms in tender hands,
Around the very altar, gay
And innocent, ye seem to play.

Quid proficit tantum nefas ?
Quid crimen Herodem juvat?
Unus tot inter funera
Impune Christus tollitur.

All honour, laud, and glory be,
O Jesu, Virgin-born to Thee;
All glory, as is ever meet
To Father and to Paraclete.

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