Page:Mistral - Mirèio. A Provençal poem.djvu/190

164 "Trau-de-la-Capo! What may that be, pray?" "I 'II tell thee, lady, as we pick our way Over the stones," And forthwith he began: "Once was a treading-floor that overran With wealth of sheaves. To-morrow, on thy ways, Thou 'lt paas, upon the riverside, the place.

"Trod by a circle of Camargan steeds, The tall sheaves had been yielding up their seeds To the incessant hoofs, a month or more. No pause, no rest; and, on the treading-floor, Dusty and winding, there was yet bestowed Of sheaves a very mountain to be trod.

"Also, the weather was so fiercely hot, The floor would burn like fire; and rested not The wooden fork's that more sheaves yet supplied; While at the horses' muzzles there were shied Clusters of bearded ears unceasingly,— They flew as arrows from the cross-bow fly.

"And on St. Peter's day and on St. Charles' Rang, and rang vainly, all the bells of Arles: There was no Sunday and no holiday For the unhappy horses; but alway The heavy tramp around the weary road, Alway the pricking of the keeper's goad,