Page:Mistral - Mirèio. A Provençal poem.djvu/219

] Now, as she lay in swoon upon the shore, A swarm of busy gnats came hovering o'er, Who seeing the white breast and fluttering breath, And the poor maiden fainting to her death, With ne'er a friendly spray of juniper From all the pulsing fire to shelter her,

Each one the viol of his tiny wings Imploring played with plaintive murmurings,— "Get thee up quickly, quickly, damsel fair! For aye malignant is this burning air," And stung the drooping head; and sea-spray flew, Sprinkling the fevered face with bitter dew:

Until at last Mirèio rose again, And, with a feeble moan of mortal pain, "My head! my head!" she dragged her way forlorn And slow from salicorne to salicorne,— Poor little one!—until her heavy feet Arrived before the seaside Saints' retreat.

There, her sad eyes with tears all brimming o'er, Upon the cold flags of the chapel-floor. Wet with the infiltration of the sea, She sank, and clasped her brow in agony; And on the pinions of the waiting air Was borne aloft Mirèio's faltering prayer:—