A Christmas Cradlesong

by Lope de Vega

Holy angels and blest,
    Through the palms as ye sweep
Hold their branches at rest
    For my babe is asleep.

And ye Bethlehem palm-trees
     As stormy winds rush
In tempest and fury
     Your angry noise hush;-
Move gently, move gently,
     Restrain your wild sweep;
Hold your branches at rest
     My babe is asleep.

My babe all divine,
   With earth’s sorrows oppressed,
Seeks slumber an instant
   His grievings to rest;
He slumbers,- he slumbers,-
   O, hush then and keep
Your branches all still,-
   My babe is asleep.

Cold blasts wheel about him,-
     A rigourous storm,-
And ye see how, in vain,
     I would shelter his form;-
Holy angels and blest
     As above me ye sweep,
Hold these branches at rest,-
     My babe is asleep.