Page:Mistral - Mirèio. A Provençal poem.djvu/257

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"Above there in the chapel." In despair
And all distraught, he hurried up the stair;
But, when his eye fell on the prostrate one,
Threw his hands wildly up. "What have I done —
What have I done against my God and hers
To call down on me such a heavy curse

"From Heaven? Have I cut the throat of her
Who gave me birth? or at a church taper
Lighted my pipe? or dared I, like the Jews,
The holy crucifix 'mong thistles bruise?
What is it, thou accursèd year of God,—
Why must I bear so terrible a load?

"'Twas not enough my darling they denied
To me! They 've hunted her to death!" he cried;
And then he knelt, and kissed her passionately;
And all the people, when they saw how greatly
His heart was wrung, felt theirs too swell with pain,
And wept aloud above the stricken twain.

Then, as the sound of many waters, falling
Far down a rocky valley, rises calling
Unto the shepherd high the hills among,
Rose from the church a sound of full-choired song,
And all the temple trembled with the swell
Of that sweet psalm the Santen sing so well:—