Page:Mistral - Mirèio. A Provençal poem.djvu/103

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Yet the day comes when, with a vicious start,
Their riders throwing, suddenly they part,
And twenty leagues of land unresting scour,
Snuffing the wind, till Vacarès⁴ once more
They find, the salt air breathe, and joy to be
In freedom after ten years' slavery.

For these wild steeds are with the sea at home;
Have they not still the color of the foam?
Perchance they brake from old King Neptune's car;
For when the sea turns dark and moans afar,
And the ships part their cables in the bay,
The stallions of Carmargue rejoicing neigh,

Their sweeping tails like whipcord snapping loudly;
Or pawing the earth, all, fiercely and proudly,
As though their flanks were stung as with a rod
By the sharp trident of the angry god,
Who makes the rain a deluge, and the ocean
Stirs to its depths in uttermost commotion.

And these were all Veran's. Therefore one day
The island-chieftain paused upon his way
Across La Crau beside Mirèio's door;
For she was famed, and shall be evermore,
For beauty, all about the delta wide
Where the great Rhone meeteth the ocean tide.