Page:Mistral - Mirèio. A Provençal poem.djvu/215

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Under the pouring fire of the June sky,
Like lightning doth Mirèio fly and fly.
East, west, north, south, she seems to see extend
One weary plain, savannas without end,
With glimpses of the sea, and here and there
Tamarisks lifting their light beads in air.

Golden-herb, samphire, shave-grase, soda,—these
Alone grow on the bitter prairies,
Where the black bulls in savage liberty
Rejoice, where the white horses all are free
To roam abroad and breast the briny gale,
Or air surcharged with sea-fog to inhale.

But now o'er all the marsh, dazzling to view,
Soars an immeasurable vault of blue,
Intense, profound. The only living thing
A solitary gull upon the wing
Or a gaunt hermit,³ whose dark shadow falls
Over the desert meres at intervals,

Or red-legged chevalier,⁴ or hern,⁵ wild-eyed
With crest of three white plumes upraised in pride.
But soon the sun so boats upon the plain
That the poor, weary wanderer is fain
To loose and lift her folded neckerchief,
So from the burning heat to find relief.