When the fiftieth anniversary of the publication of _Mireio_ was celebrated at Arles, Calvé sang the “Song of Magali” and noted French actors and opera artists rendered Gounod’s _Mireille_, which is based upon Mistral’s pastoral. The most dramatic canto is the eighth, the flight of the heroine across the rocky plains of La Crau, finding shelter at the shrine of the Holy Maries. The maiden’s prayer for help in her hour of need, for understanding of her love for her “handsome Vincen,” is wistful and appealing. Two cantos have been devoted to revival of these old legends of the Holy Maries. Disciples of Jesus, driven from Palestine after his crucifixion, according to tradition, were set afloat in a barque by their persecutors. They had neither sail nor oars. They were washed ashore on the sacred soil where now stands the village of Les Saintes Maries. Among these disciples were Lazarus and his sisters, Mary and Martha, their servant Sarah (who was the patron saint of gypsies), Mary Magdalene, Joseph of Arimathea, and Trophine, one of the oldest and wisest of the disciples who converted to Christianity the town of Arles. Two long narrative poems followed _Mireio_--_Calendau_ and _Nerto_. The former, published in 1867, is more potent in dramatic skill than the earlier pastoral. It has lines of emotional intensity, when the heroine, a Princess who lost her rank because of love for a humble suitor, inspires him by her fine spirit and tales of prowess and chivalry. “The Scaling of Ventour” is a dramatic episode in this poem. Two stanzas, translated by Harriet Waters Preston, indicate the action and colorful quality; this is a description of “the catch”:[18] Yet had we brave and splendid sport, I ween, For some with tridents, some with lances keen, Fell on the prey. And some were skilled to fling A winged dart held by a slender string. The wounded wretches, ’neath the wave withdrew, Trailing red lines along the mirror blue. Slowly the net brimful of treasures mounted; Silver was there, turquoise and gold uncounted, Rubies and emeralds million-rayed. The men Flung them thereon like eager children when They stay their mother’s footsteps to explore Her apron bursting with its summer store Of apricots and cherries. There is less atmosphere in _Nerto_, an epic tale of the last days of the Popes at Avignon and “the miraculous burial-place,” The Aliscamp of history Far below Arles. The legend of this spot is one of the best portions of _Nerto_: out of the heaven came, Our Lord himself to bless the spot, And left, if the tale erreth not The impress of his bended knee, Rock-graven. Howso this may be, Full oft a swarm of angels white Bends hither, on a tranquil night, Singing celestial harmonies.[19]