Page:Mistral - Mirèio. A Provençal poem.djvu/217

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It seems to the poor maid a heavenly vision,
A heartening glimpse into the land elysian.
And soon, afar, by that blue wave she sees
A town with circling walls and palaces,
And fountains gay, and churches without end,
And slender spires that to the sun ascend,

And ships and lesser sailing-craft, sun-bright,
Entering the port; and the wind seemeth light,
So that the oriflambs and streamers all
Languidly round the masts arise and fall.
"A miracle!" the maiden thought, and now
Wipes the abundant moisture from her brow,

And, with new hope, toward the town doth fare,
Deeming the Maries' tomb is surely there.
Alas! alas! be her flight ne'er so speedy,
A change will pass upon the scene. Already
The sweet illusion seems to fade and flit;
Recedes the vision as she follows it.

An airy show, the substanoe of a dream,
By spirit woven out of a sunbeam,
And all its fair hues borrowed from the sky,—
The filmy fabric wavers presently,
And melts away, and like a mist is gone.
Bewildered by the heat, and quite alone,