Page:Mistral - Mirèio. A Provençal poem.djvu/185

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Then were the rude Colossi overthrown;
And a denae ouvering of pudding-stone
Spread o'er La Crau, the desolate, the vast,
The mute, the bare to every stormy blast;
Who wears the hideous garment to this day.
Meanwhile Mirèio farther speeds away

From the home-lands, while the sun's ardent glare
Makes visible all round the shimmering air;
And shrill cicalas, grilling in the grass,
Beat madly evermore their tiny brass.
Nor tree for shade was there, nor any beast:
The many flocks, that in the winter feast

On the short, savory grasses of the moor,
Had climbed the Alps, where airs are cool and pure,
And pastures fadeless. Yet the maid doth fly
Under the pouring fire of a June sky,—
Fly, fly, like lightning. Lizards lai^e and gray
Peep from their holes, and to each other say,

"She must be mad who thus the shingle clears,
Under a heat that sets the junipers³
A-dancing on the hills; on Crau, the sands."
The praying mantes⁴ lift beseeching hands,
"Return, return, O pilgrim!" murmuring,
"For God hath opened many a crystal spring;