Page:Mistral - Mirèio. A Provençal poem.djvu/248

222 "And as, on earth, haste all things to decay, Faded the memory of our tombs away. While sang Provence her songs, and time rolled on, Till, as Durance is blended with the Rhone, Ended the merry kingdom of Provence, And fell asleep upon the breast of France.

"'France, take thy sister by the hand!' So saith Our land's last king, he drawing near to death. 'On the great work the future hath in store, Together counsel take! Thou art the more Strong; she, the more fair: and rebel night Before your wedded glory shall take flight.'

"This did Renè. Therefore we sought the king, As on his feathers he lay slumbering, And showed the spot where long our bones had lain; And he, with bishops twelve and courtly train, Came down into this waste of sand and waves, And found, among the salicornes, our graves.

"Adieu, dear Mirèio! The hour flies; And, like a taper's flame before it dies, We see life's light within thy body flicker. Yet, ere the soul is loosed,—come quick, oh quicker, My sisters!—we the hills of heaven must scale Or ever she arrive within the veil.