Blodau cynnar y merthyron

Blodau cynnar y merthyron!
  Braidd y gwelsoch olau dydd
Cyn gleddyf Herod greulon
  Ddwyn eich tegwch brau dan gudd;

Fel rhosynnau ar ymagor
  Chwelir gan y gwyntoedd trist,
Cwympo wnaethoch, fore'ch tymor,
  Dan law drom
      erlidiwr Crist.

Chwi yw blaenffrwyth
    Aberth Iesu,
  Had merthyrdod cynta'r nef;
Caswoch chwi, blant bychain, waedu,
  Yn ei achos sanctaidd ef.

Chwi sy'n aros wrth yr allor,
  Heb un braw i rwygo'ch bron,
Chwi sy'n chwarae gyda'ch trysor,
  Palmwydd a choronau llon.

Byth i'r Tad y bo gogoniant,
  Ac i'r Mab a ddaeth yn Ddyn,
Byth i'r Ysbryd seinier moliant -
  Un yn Dri, a Thri yn Un.

Early flowers of the martyrs!
  Scarcely saw ye the light of day
Before cruel Herod's sword
  Took your fragile fairness concealed;

Like roses about to open
  Shattered by the sad winds,
Fall ye did, in the morn of your season,
  Under the heavy hand of
      the persecutor of Christ.

Ye are the first-fruits of
    the Sacrifice of Jesus
  The seed of the first martyrdom of heaven;
Ye got, little children, to bleed,
  In his sacred cause.

Ye are waiting by the altar,
  With no terror to tear your breast,
Ye are playing with the treasure,
  Cheerful palms and crowns.

Forever to the Father be the glory,
  And to the Son who became Man,
Forever to the Spirit may praise be sounded -
  One in Three, and Three in One.

Sweet flowerets of
    the martyr band,
Plucked by the tyrant's
    ruthless hand

  Upon the threshold
      of the morn,
  Like rosebuds by
      a tempest torn


First victims for
    the incarnate Lord,
A tender flock to
    feel the sword;

  Beside the very
      altar gay,
  With palm and crown,
      ye seemed to play.


O Lord, the Virgin-born, to Thee
Eternal praise and glory be,
  Whom with the Father we adore
  And Holy Ghost forevermore.

from the Latin
Salvete Flores martyrum

Aurelius Clemens Prudentius 348-405