The entire poem, literally translated, is as follows:—­

If I have the good fortune to see my bark early upon the waves,
Without fear of winter,
Blessings upon thee, O divine Lamartine,
Who hast taken the helm!

If my prow bears a bouquet of blooming laurel,
It is thou hast made it for me;
If my sail swelleth, it is the breath of thy glory
That bloweth it.

Therefore, like a pilot who of a fair church
Climbeth the hill
And upon the altar of the saint that hath saved him at sea
Hangeth a miniature ship.

I consecrate Mireio to thee; ’tis my heart and my soul,
’Tis the flower of my years;
’Tis a cluster of grapes from the Crau that with all its leaves
A peasant offers thee.

Generous as a king, when thou broughtest me fame
In the midst of Paris,
Thou knowest that, in thy home, the day thou saidst to me,
“Tu Marcellus eris!”

Like the pomegranate in the ripening sunbeam,
My heart opened,
And, unable to find more tender speech,
Broke out in tears.

It is interesting to notice that the earliest poem of our author, La Bella d’Avoust, is a tale of the supernatural, a poem of mystery; it is an order of poetic inspiration rather rare in his work, and this first poem is quite as good as anything of its kind to be found in Mireio or Nerto.  It has the form of a song with the refrain:—­

Ye little nightingales, ye grasshoppers, be still! 
Hear the song of the beauty of August!

Margai of Val-Mairane, intoxicated with love, goes down into the plain two hours before the day.  Descending the hill, she is wild.  “In vain,” she says, “I seek him, I have missed him.  Ah, my heart trembles.”

The poem is full of imagery, delicate and pretty.  Margai is so lovely that in the clouds the moon, enshrouded, says to the cloud very softly, “Cloud, beautiful cloud, pass away, my face would let fall a ray on Margai, thy shadow hinders me.”  And the bird offers to console her, and the glow-worm offers his light to guide her to her lover.  Margai comes and goes until she meets her lover in the shadow of the trees.  She tells of her weeping, of the moon, the birdling, and the glow-worm.  “But thy brow is dark, art thou ill?  Shall I return to my father’s house?”

“If my face is sad, on my faith, it is because a black moth hovering about hath alarmed me.”

And Margai says, “Thy voice, once so sweet, to-day seems a trembling sound beneath the earth; I shudder at it.”

“If my voice is so hoarse, it is because while waiting for thee I lay upon my back in the grass.”

“I was dying with longing, but now it is with fear.  For the day of our elopement, beloved, thou wearest mourning!”

“If my cloak be sombre and black, so is the night, and yet the night also glimmers.”

When the star of the shepherds began to pale, and when the king of stars was about to appear, suddenly off they went, upon a black horse.  And the horse flew on the stony road, and the ground shook beneath the lovers, and ’tis said fantastic witches danced about them until day, laughing loudly.