"And to the fountain of l'Huveaune1 speeding,
The source whereof Magdalene's tears were feeding,
Didst wash thy sins away: and in this hour
Art proud once more; but other storms may lower.
Forget not, then, amid thy revelries,
Whose tears they are that bathe thine olive-trees!
"Dark cedars that on Mount Sambuco2 grew,
Sheer ledges of the hills of Aix, and you,
Tall pines, clothing the flanks of Esterel,3
And junipers of Trevaresso,4 telt
How thrilled your vales with joy, when, his cross bearing,
The bishop Maximin was through them faring.
"Seest thou one with while arms on her breast,
Who kneels and prays in yonder grotto, dressed
In the bright garment of her floating hair?
Poor sufferer! Her tender knees are bare,
And cruelly by the sharp flints are torn.
The moon, with pale torch, watches the forlorn
"And sad recluse. The woods in silence bow.
The angels hush their very heart-throbs now,
As, gazing through a crevice, they espy
A pearly tear fall from the lifted eye,
And haste the precious gem to gather up,
And keep for ever in a golden cup.
Page:Mistral - Mirèio. A Provençal poem.djvu/246
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220
MIRÈIO.
[Canto XI.
![](http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/2/2b/Mistral_-_Mir%C3%A8io._A_Proven%C3%A7al_poem.djvu/page246-763px-Mistral_-_Mir%C3%A8io._A_Proven%C3%A7al_poem.djvu.jpg)