Frédéric Mistral / Poet and Leader in Provence

by Charles Alfred Downer

"Segnour, à la fin ta coulèro
Largo si tron
Sus nòsti front:
E dins la niue nosto galèro
Pico d'a pro
Contro li ro."

Lord, at last thy wrath hurls its thunderbolts upon our foreheads:

And in the night our vessel strikes its prow against the rocks.

France was punished for irreligion, for closing the temples, for abandoning the sacraments and commandments, for losing faith in all except selfish interest and so-called progress, for contempt of the Bible and pride in science.

The poet makes confession:—

"Segnour, sian tis enfant proudigue;
Mai nàutri sian
Ti vièi crestian:
Que ta Justiço nous castigue,
Mai au trepas
Nous laisses pas!"

Lord, we are thy prodigal sons; but we are thy Christians of old:

Let thy justice chastise us, but give us not over unto death!

Then the poet prays in the name of all the brave men who gave up their lives in battle, in the name of all the mothers who will never again see their sons, in the name of the poor, the strong, the dead, in the name of all the defeats and tears and sorrow, the slaughter and the fires, the affronts endured, that God disarm his justice, and he concludes:—

"Segnour, voulen deveni d'ome;
En libertà
Pos nous bouta!
Sian Gau-Rouman e gentilome,
E marchan dre
Dins noste endré.