“Now rode we on the shoulders of the main;
Now sank into its inky gulfs again,
Where the seal dwelleth and the mighty shark,
And the sea-peacock; and we seemed to hark
To the sad cry, lifted unceasingly,
By the unresting victims of the sea.
“A great wave brake above us, and hope died.
Then Lazarus prayed: ‘O Lord, be thou our guide,
Who me ere now out of the tomb didst bring!
Succour the bark, for she is foundering!’
Like a wood-pigeon’s wing, this outcry clove
The tempest, and went up to realms above.
“And Jesus, looking from the palace fair
Where he sat throned, beheld his friend’s despair,
And the fierce deep yawning to swallow him.
Straightway the Master’s gentle eyes grew dim,
His heart yearned over us with pity warm,
And one long sun-ray leaped athwart the storm.
“Now God be praised! For, though we yet were tost
Right roughly up and down, and sank almost
With bitter sea-sickness, our fears were stayed:
The haughty waves began to be allayed;
Clouds brake afar, then vanished altogether,
And a green shore gleamed through the bright’ning weather.
“Long was it yet ere the shocks quite subsided
Of the tempestuous waves; and our boat glided
Our crazy boat, nearer that welcome shore
All tranquilly, a dying breeze before.
Smooth as a grebe our keel the breakers clomb,
Furrowing into great flakes the snowy foam.
“Until—once more all glory be to God!—
Upon a rockless beach we safely trod,
And knelt on the wet sand, and cried, ‘O Thou
Who saved from sword and tempest, hear our vow!
Each one of us is an evangelist
Thy law to preach. We swear it, O Lord Christ!’
“At that great name, that cry till then unheard,
Noble Provence, wert thou not deeply stirred?
Thy woods and fields, in all their fair extent,
Thrilled with the rapture of a sweet content;
As a dog scents his master’s coming feet,
And flies with bounding welcome him to meet.
“Thou, Heavenly Father, also didst provide
A feast of shell-fish, stranded by the tide,
To stay our hunger; and, to quench our thirst,
Madest among the salicornes outburst
The same clear, healing spring, which flows alway
Inside the church where sleeps our dust to-day.
“Glowing with zeal, we track the shingly Rhone
From moor to moor. In faith we travel on
Until right gladly we discern the traces
Of human husbandry in those wild places,
And soon, afar, the tall Arlesian towers,
Crowned by the standard of the emperors.
“To-day, fair Arles, a harvester thou seemest,
Who sleepest on thy threshing-floor, and dreamest
Of glories past; but a queen wert thou then,
And mother of so brave sea-faring men,
The noisy winds themselves aye lost their way
In the great harbour where thy shipping lay.