Page:Mistral - Mirèio. A Provençal poem.djvu/239

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"The frenzied populace its clamor adds
Unto the cries of lasses and of lads,
Who shout their idol's praises o'er and o'er,—
'Hail to the Venus, of joy the bestower!
Hail to thee, Venus, goddess of all grace!
Mother of earth and of the Arlesian race!'

"The statue, myrtle-crowned, with nostrils wide
And head high-borne, appears to swell with pride
Amid the incense-clouds; when suddenly,
In horror of so great audacity,
Leaps Trophimus amid the maddened wretches,
And o'er the bewildered throng his arms outstretches.

"'People of Arles!' in mighty tones he cried,
'Hear me, even for the sake of Christ who died!'
No more. But, smitten by his shaggy frown,
The idol groaned and staggered, and fell down,
Headlong, from off its marble pedestal.
Fell, too, the awe-struck dancers, one and all.

"Therewith went up, as 'twere, a single howl;
Choked were the gateways with a rabble foul,
Who through all Arles spread terror and dismay,
So that patricians tore their crowns away;
And all the enragèd youth closed round us there,
While flashed a thousand poniards in the air.