Page:Mistral - Mirèio. A Provençal poem.djvu/100

74 Antiquities they call them hereabout." "Thanks, many!" said the youth. "I had come out A thousand of my woolly tribe, or so, To lead into the mountains from La Crau. We leave to-morrow. I their way direct, And sleeping-spots and feeding-ground select.

"They bear my mark, and are of fine breed, all; And for my shepherdess, when one I call My own, the nightingales will ever sing. And dared I hope you 'd take my offering, Mirèio dear, no gems I 'd tender you, But a carved box-wood cup,—mine own work too!"

Therewith he brought to light a goblet fair, Wrapped like some sacred relic with all care, And carven of box-wood green. It was his pleasure Such things to fashion in his hours of leisure; And, sitting rapt upon some wayside stone, He wrought divinely with a knife alone.

He carved him castanets with fingers light, So that his flock would follow him at night Through the dark fields, obedient to their tones. And on the ringing collars, and the bones That served for bell-tongues, he would cut with skill Faces and figures, flowers and birds, at will.