Page:Mistral - Mirèio. A Provençal poem.djvu/120

94 The saucy little damsel sped away, And lifted up her voice in mocking lay. Thus sowed these two upon the twilight heath Their pretty moon-wheat,$5$ as the proverb saith. Flowery the moments were, and fleet with pleasure: Of such our Lord giveth abundant measure

To peasants and to kings alike. And so I come to what befell that eve on Crau. Ourrias and Vincen met. As lightning cleaves The first tall tree, Ourrias his wrath relieves. "'Tis you son of a hag, for aught I know, Who have bewitched her,—this Mirèio;

"And, since your path would seem to lie her way, Tell her, tatterdemalion, what I say! No more for her nor for her weasel face Care I than for the ancient clout," he says, "That from your shoulders fluttering I see. Go, pretty coxcomb, tell her this from me!"

Stopped Vincen thunderstruck. His wrath leaped high As leaps a fiery rocket to the sky. "Is it your pleasure that I strangle you, Base churl," he said, "or double you in two?" And faced him with a look he well might dread, As when a starving leopard turns her head.