Page:Mistral - Mirèio. A Provençal poem.djvu/176

150 Then did the dusky troop their sickles wave, And three great leaps athwart the flame they gave, And cloves of odorous garlic from a string Upon the glowing embers they did fling, And holy herb and John's-wort bare anigh; And these were purified and blessed thereby.

Then "Hail, St. John!" thrice rose a deafening shout; And hills and plain, illumined round about, Sparkled as though the dark were showering stars. And sure the Saint, above the heaven's blue bars, The breath of all this incense doth inhale, Wafted aloft by the unconscious gale.