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

188 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.