Page:Mistral - Mirèio. A Provençal poem.djvu/63

] But still her eyes are downcast,—the poor dear! Nor can she look at her deliverer For a brief space. But then a smile ensues, And the tears vanish, as the morning dews That drench the flowers and grass at break of day Roll into little pearls and pass away.

And then there came a fresh catastrophe: The branch whereon they sat so cosily Snapped, broke asunder, and with ringing shriek Mirèio flung her arms round Vincen's neck, And he clasped hers, and they whirled suddenly Down through the leaves upon the supple rye.

Listen, wind of the Greek,$7$ wind of the sea, And shake no more the verdant canopy! Hush for one moment, O thou childish breeze! Breathe soft and whisper low, beholding these! Give them a little time to dream of bliss,— To dream at least, in such a world as this!

Thou too, swift streamlet of the prattling voice, Peace, prithee! In this hour, make little noise Among the vocal pebbles of thy bed! Ay, little noise! Because two souls have sped To one bright region. Leave them there, to roam Over the starry heights,—their proper home!