Sus li mourre envahi pèr lou vèspre, li pastre
Alargon sis anouge e si fedo e si can;
E dins li baisso palunenco
Lou grouün rangoulejo en bramadisso unenco:
“Aquéu soulèu èro ensucant!”
Ansin, o Lamartine, o moun mèstre, o moun paire,
En cantico, en acioun, en lagremo, en soulas,
Quand aguerias à noste mounde
Escampa de lumiero e d’amour soun abounde,
E que lou mounde fuguè las,
Cadun vous bandiguè la pèiro de sa foundo,
Car vosto resplendour nous fasié mau is iue,
Car uno estello que s’amosso,
Car un diéu clavela, toujour agrado en foço,
E li grapaud amon la niue....
Eu, aquelo grand font de pouësio blouso
Qu’avié rejouveni l’amo de l’univers,
Li jóuini pouèto riguèron
De sa malancounié proufetico, e diguèron
Que sabié pas faire li vers.
Que dins sis inne sant enaurè nòsti crèire
Sus li courdello d’or de l’arpo de Sioun,
En atestant lis Escrituro
Li devot Farisen cridèron sus l’auturo
Que n’avié gens de religioun.
De nòstis ancian rèi, avié tra sis estrofo
E qu’en mabre poumpous i’avié fa’n mausoulèu,
Dóu Reialisme li badaire
Trouvèron á la fin qu’èro un descaladaire,
E tóuti s’aliunchèron lèu.
Que faguè dardaia lou mot de Republico
Sus lou front, dins lou cèu di pople tresanant,
Pèr uno estranjo fernesio
Tóuti li chin gasta de la Demoucracio
Lou mourdeguèron en renant.
Avié jita soun viéure e soun cors e soun amo,
Pèr sauva dóu voulcan la patrio en coumbour,
Quand demandè soun pan, pechaire!
Li bourgés e li gros l’apelèron manjaire,
E s’estremèron dins soun bourg.
Doulènt, emé sa crous escalè soun Calvàri ...
E quàuqui bònis amo, eiça vers l’embruni.
Entendeguèron un long gème,
E pièi, dins lis espàci, aqueste crid suprème:
Heli! lamma sabacthani!
Emé li dous iue clin e li dos man duberto,
Dins un silènci grèu alor éu s’amaguè;
E, siau coume soun li mountagno,
Au mitan de sa glòri e de sa malamagno,
Sènso rèn dire mouriguè.
LA COUPO
Que nous vèn di Catalan:
A-de-rèng beguen en troupo
Lou vin pur de noste plant!
E versanto,
Vuejo à plen bord,
Vuejo abord
Lis estrambord
E l’enavans di fort!
Sian bessai la finicioun;
E, se toumbon li Felibre,
Toumbara nosto nacioun.
Sian bessai li proumié gréu;
Sian bessai de la patrio
Li cepoun emai li priéu.
E li raive dóu jouvènt,
Dóu passat la remembranço
E la fe dins l’an que vèn.
Dóu Verai emai dóu Bèu,
E lis àuti jouïssènço
Que se trufon dóu toumbèu.
Pèr canta tout ço que viéu,
Car es elo l’ambrousio
Que tremudo l’ome en diéu.
Vautre enfin que sias counsènt,
Catalan, de liuen, o fraire,
Coumunien tóutis ensèn!
E versanto,
Vuejo à plen bord,
Vuejo abord
Lis estrambord
E l’enavans di fort!
A LA RAÇO LATINO.
(Peço Dicho a Mount-Pelié sus la Plaço dóu Peirou, lou 25 de Mai de 1878.)
Souto la capo dóu soulèu!
Lou rasin brun boui dins la tino,
Lóu vin de Diéu gisclara lèu.
A l’auro santo dóu Tabor,
Tu siés la raço lumenouso
Que viéu de joio e d’estrambord;
Tu siés la raço apoustoulico
Que sono li campano à brand:
Tu siés la troumpo que publico
E siés la man que trais lou gran.
Que pèr sèt branco s’espandis,
Largant l’amour, largant lou lume
Coume un resson de Paradis,
Ta lengo d’or, fiho roumano
Dóu Pople-Rèi, es la cansoun
Que rediran li bouco umano,
Tant que lou Verbe aura resoun.
Pèr la justiço a fa rajòu;
Pereilalin ti navegaire
Soun ana querre un mounde nòu;
Au batedis de ta pensado
As esclapa cènt cop ti rèi ...
Ah! se noun ères divisado
Quau poudrié vuei te faire lèi?
Abrant lou mou de toun flambèu,
Dintre lou mabre e sus la telo
As encarna lou subre-bèu.
De l’art divin siés la patrio
E touto gràci vèn de tu;
Siés lou sourgènt de l’alegrio
E siés l’eterno jouventu!
Li panteon se soun poupla;
A ti triounfle, à ti lagremo
Tóuti li cor an barbela;
Flouris la terro, quand fas flòri;
De ti foulié cadun vèn fòu;
E dins l’esclùssi de ta glòri
Sèmpre lou mounde a pourta dòu.
Ounte blanquejon li veissèu,
Friso à ti pèd sa molo areno
En miraiant l’azur dóu cèu.
Aquelo mar toujour risènto,
Diéu l’escampè de soun clarun
Coume la cencho trelusènto
Que dèu liga ti pople brun.
Crèis l’óulivié, l’aubre de pas,
E de la vigno vertuiouso
S’enourgulisson ti campas:
Raço latino, en remembranço
De toun destin sèmpre courous,
Aubouro-te vers l’esperanço,
Afrairo-te souto la Crous!
Souto la capo dóu soulèu!
Lou rasin brun boui dins la tino,
Lou vin de Diéu gisclara lèu!
Printed by Ballantyne & Co Limited
Tavistock Street, London
FOOTNOTES:
[1] JINGLE OF JOHN O’ THE PIG’S HEAD.
’Tis John o’ the Pig’s Head.
And who his dirge doth sing?—
Why, ’tis the Moorish King.
And who laughs o’er him now?
The partridge doth, I trow.
The mangle with its creaking stone.
Who was it that his knell began?—
The bottom of the frying-pan.
Who wears for him a mourning veil?—
The kettle’s sooty tail!
[2] A legendary character renowned as a spendthrift.
[3] The three tablecloths are graduated in size, commencing with the largest, and are de rigueur for festal occasions.
[4] For Provençal text, see p. 324.
[5] Poles crowned with Phrygian caps.
[6] Signifying the Republic.
[7] Poles crowned with Phrygian caps.
You have an apron full of cheeses
Which melt in the mouth like fine sugar.
[9] The national instrument of Provence.
[10] Athène du Midi.
[11] Monsieur Paul Mariéton in his “Terre Provençale” says of this work: “The history of a people is contained in this book. No one can ever know what devotion, knowledge, discrimination and intuition such a work represents, undertaken and concluded as it was during the twenty best years of a poet’s life. All the words of the Oc language in its seven different dialects, each one compared with its equivalent in the Latin tongue, all the proverbs and idioms of the South together with every characteristic expression either in use or long since out of vogue, make up this incomparable Thesaurus of a tenacious language, which is no more dead to-day than it was three hundred years ago, and which is now reconquering the hearts of all the faithful.” This “Treasury of the Félibres” opens with the following lines:
“O people of the South, hearken now to my words:
“If thou would’st regain the lost Empire of thy speech and equip thyself anew, dig deep in this mine.”
[12] The Mayor’s sash of office.
[13] Mistral has glorified this legend in his Mireille, where the saints appear to the young girl and recount to her their Odyssey (pp. 427-437, Mireille).—C. E. M.
[14] For Provençal text see p. 324.
[15] For Provençal text see p. 326.
[16] The elder half-brother of Frédéric Mistral inherited the Mas du Juge.
[17] A well-known poet and writer of Nîmes, author of a small poem regarded as a classic in France: “L’Ange et l’Enfant.”
[18] For Provençal text see p. 329.
[19] Les Aliscamps, the famous burying-ground of the Romans. In the old pagan days it was said that this wonderful necropolis made Arles, the queen of cities, more opulent beneath her soil than above. Here the great Romans in the time of Augustus and Constantine regarded it as their privilege to be buried.—C. E. M.
[20] Mireille was crowned by the Academy, and the poet received a prize of ten thousand francs.
[21] For Provençal text see p. 332.
[22] For Provençal text see p. 334.