Birth of Marseille

THE BIRTH OF MARSEILLE This was the feast of a marriage decree, first of his daughters to be, but she must hide til the feasting was done, before he'd let her pick one. Gyptis, the daughter of Celt royalty, her father reigned to the sea; down on the beach he would offer her hand, but who she chose was not planned. He was a strange one from faraway tales sailing on Aegean sails, looking for somewhere he might not grow old before his story is told. His brother Simon, and Protis was he; putting to Gaul from the sea, came to the wedding where Gyptis would say whom she would marry this day. Protis was quick in requesting a share of all the land he saw there, and in his argueing, he was a stone, like the king had never known. From her seclusion she went to the shore, gold for her suitors she wore, egg-yolk and ashes to brighten her hair, she counted all who were there. Her father smiled when she offerred her hand, "Protis, you've got your new land, all of the world will remember this day as the birth of Marseilles." © ron wilson ARBUTHNOT aka vee bdosa the doylestown Poet