Letter 8007: The world's orb is gripped by the ice of winter cold

To Radegund — On Flowers Placed upon the Altar The world is gripped by the ice of winter cold, and all the field's light perishes without its flower. But in the spring season, when the Lord conquered the underworld, the grass rises, happier, opening its leaves. Then men adorn their doorposts and their pulpits with flowers; then woman fills her lap with rosy fragrance. But you carry your fragrance not for yourselves but for Christ — these first fruits too you give to the holy temple. You have woven the festive altar with varied garlands; the altar is painted, as with embroidered threads, with fresh flowers. A golden row of crocus, from here a violet-purple emerges, from here scarlet reddens, from there milky whiteness snows. The blue-green stands by the meadow-green: colors do battle even in flowers — in the place of peace you would think there is a leafy war. This one pleases in whiteness; that one gleams in ruddy splendor; this one smells more sweetly; that one blushes more beautifully. So in varied beauty the seedlings of flowers compete with each other: here the color conquers gems, there the fragrance conquers incense. You too who build these things, Agnes with Radegund — may your fragrance breathe with everlasting flowers.

VII Ad eandem de floribus super altare Frigoris hiberni glacie constringitur orbis totaque lux agri flore carente perit. tempore vernali, dominus quo Tartara vicit, surgit aperta suis laetior herba comis. inde viri postes et pulpita floribus ornant, hinc mulier roseo conplet odore sinum. at vos non vobis, sed Christo fertis odores, has quoque primitias ad pia templa datis. texistis variis altaria festa coronis, pingitur ut filis floribus ara novis. aureus ordo crocis, violis hinc blatteus exit, coccinus hinc rubricat, lacteus inde nivet. stat prasino venetus: pugnant et flore colores. inque loco pacis herbida bella putas. haec candore placet, rutilo micat illa decore; suavius haec redolet, pulchrius illa rubet. sic specie varia florum sibi germina certant, ut color hic gemmas, tura revincat odor. vos quoque quae struitis haec, Agnes cum Radegunde, floribus aeternis vester anhelet odor.