Page:Mistral - Mirèio. A Provençal poem.djvu/57

] Cleared from the hills meanwhile the mists of morn, And o'er the ruined towers, whither return Nightly the grim old lords of Baux, they say; And o'er the barren rocks 'gan take their way Vultures,$6$ whose large, white wings are seen to gleam Resplendent in the noontide's burning beam.

Then cried the maiden, pouting, "We have done Naught! Oh, shame to idle so! Some one Said he would help me; and that some one still Doth naught but talk, and make me laugh at will. Work now, lest mother say I am unwary And idle, and too awkward yet to marry!

"Ah! my brave friend, I think should one engage you To pick leaves by the quintal, and for wage, you Would all the same sit still and feast your eyes, Handling the ready sprays in dreamy wise!" Whereat the boy, a trifle disconcerted, "And so thou takest me for a gawky!" blurted.

"We 'll see, my fair young lady," added he, "Which of us two the better picker be!" They ply both hands now. With vast animation, They bend and strip the branches. No occasion For rest or idle chatter either uses, (The bleating sheep, they say, her mouthful loses,)