Page:Mistral - Mirèio. A Provençal poem.djvu/260

234 "Did you mark, Vincen dear, the flakes of light That fell when they began their heavenward flight? If all their words to me bad written been, They would have made a precious book, I ween." Here Vincen, who had striven his tears to stay, Brake forth in sobs, and gave his anguish way.

"Would to God I had seen them ere they went! Ah, would to God! Then to their white raiment, Like a tick fastening, I would have cried, 'O queens of heaven! Sole ark where we may bide, In this late hour, do what you will with me! Maimed, sightless, toothless, I would gladly be;

"'But leave my pretty little fairy sane And sound!'" Here brake Mirèio in again: "There are they, in their linen robes of grace! They come!" and from her mother's fond embrace Began to struggle wildly to be free, And waved her hand afar toward the sea.

Then all the folk turned also to the main, And under shading hands their eyes 'gan strain; Yet, save the pallid limit of the brine, The blending and the separating line 'Twixt sea and heaven, naught might they descry. "Naught cometh," said they. But the child, "Oh, ay!