O prego-dieu, cause some slight hope of
something true to shine upon me; show me the way."

And straightway I saw that the insect stretched forth its slender arm
toward Heaven; mysterious, mute, earnest, it was praying.

* * * * *

Such reference to religious doubt is elsewhere absent from Mistral's
work. His faith is strong, and the energy of his life-work has its
source largely, not only in this religious faith, but in his firm belief
in himself, in his race, and in the mission he has felt called upon to
undertake. Reflected obviously in the above poem is the growth of the
poet in experience and in thought.

Lastly, among the poems of his _Isclo d'Or_, we wish to call attention
to one that, in its theme, recalls _Le Lac_, _La Tristesse d'Olympio_,
and _Le Souvenir_. The poet comes upon the scene of his first love, and
apostrophizes the natural objects about him. All four poets intone the
strain, "Ye rocks and trees, guard the memory of our love."

"O coumbo d'Uriage
Bos fresqueirous,
Ounte aven fa lou viage
Dis amourous,
O vau qu'aven noumado
Noste univers,
Se perdes ta ramado
Gardo mi vers."

O vale of Uriage, cool wood, where we made our lovers' journey; O vale
that we called our world, if thou lose thy verdure, keep my verses.

Ye flowers of the high meadows that no man knoweth, watered by Alpine
snows, ye are less pure and fresh in the month of April than the little
mouth that smiles for me.

Ye thunders and stern voices of the peaks, murmurings of wild woods,
torrents from the mountains, there is a voice that dominates you all,
the clear, beautiful voice of my love.

Alas! vale of Uriage, we may never return to thy leafy nooks. She, a
star, vanisheth in air, and I, folding my tent, go forth into the
wilderness.

* * * * *

Apart from the intrinsic worth of the thought or sentiment, there is
found in Mistral the essential gift of the poet, the power of
expression--of clothing in words that fully embody the meaning, and seem
to sing, in spontaneous musical flow, the inner inspiration. He is
superior to the other poets of the Felibrige, not only in the energy,
the vitality of his personality, and in the fertility of his ideas, but
also in this great gift of language. Even if he creates his vocabulary
as he goes along, somewhat after the fashion of Ronsard and the
_Pleiade_, he does this in strict a