Page:Mistral - Mirèio. A Provençal poem.djvu/214

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The rose-lights of the morn were beauteous
Upon the river, as he chatted thus.
And the tartanes,² with snowy sails outspread,
Tranquilly glided up the stream, impelled
By the light breeze that blew from off the deep,
As by a shepherdess her milk-white sheep.

And all along the shore was noble shade
By feathery ash and silver poplar made,
Whose hoary trunks the river did reflect,
And giant limbs with wild vines all bedeckt
With ancient vines and tortuous, that upbore
Their knotty, clustered fruit the waters o'er.

Majestically calm, but wearily
And as he fain would sleep, the Rhone passed by
Like some great veteran dying. He recalls
Music and feasting in Avignon's halls
And castles, and profoundly sad is he
To lose his name and waters in the sea.

Meanwhile the enamoured maiden whom I sing
Had leaped ashore; and the boy, tarrying
Only to say, "The road that lies before
Is thine! The Saints will guide thee to the door
Of their great chapel," took his oars in hand,
And swiftly turned his shallop from the land.