II. Unacknowledged and Uncollected Translations. The Nativity of Christ

By Luis de Góngora y Argote

TO-DAY from the Aurora’s bosom

A pink has fallen,—a crimson blossom:

And oh, how glorious rests the hay

On which the fallen blossom lay.

When silence gently had unfurled

Her mantle over all below,

And, crowned with winter’s frost and snow,

Night swayed the sceptre of the world,

Amid the gloom descending slow,

Upon the monarch’s frozen bosom

A pink has fallen,—a crimson blossom.

The only flower the Virgin bore

(Aurora fair,) within her breast,

She gave to earth, yet still possessed

Her virgin blossom as before:

The hay that colored drop caressed,—

Received upon its faithful bosom

That single flower,—a crimson blossom.

The manger, unto which ’t was given,

Even amid wintry snows and cold,

Within its fostering arms to fold

The blushing flower that fell from Heaven,

Was as a canopy of gold,—

A downy couch,—where on its bosom

That flower hath fallen,—that crimson blossom.