Page:Mistral - Mirèio. A Provençal poem.djvu/137

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To soothe a heart oppressed by love's fond dream;
You, Crousillat, who your belovèd stream,
The bright Touloubro, make more truly famous
Than did the grim star-gazer Nostadamus;²
And you, Anselme, who see, half-sad, half-smiling,
Fair girls under the trellised arbors whiling

Their hours away; and you, my Paul, the witty,
And peasant Tavan, who attune your ditty
Unto the crickets' chirrup, while you peer
Wistful at your poor pickaxe; and most dear,
Adolphe Dumas, who, when Durance is deep
With his spring flood, come back your thoughts to steep,

And warm the Frenchman at Provençal suns,
'Twas you who met my own Mirèio once
At your great Paris,—met her tenderly,
Where she had flown, impetuous, daring, shy;
And last Garcin, brave son of a brave sire,
Whose soul mounts upward on a wind of fire;—

Upbear me with your holy breath as now
I climb for the fair fruit on that high bough!…
The swineherds paused at Master Ramoun's door,
Crying, "Good-morrow! Yonder, on the moor,
We found this poor lad wounded in the breast.
'Twere well that his sore hurt were quickly drest."