A Sheaf Gleaned in French Fields/The Resting-Place of the Kine (Auguste Barbier)
THE RESTING-PLACE OF THE KINE.
They rested in the shadow of great oaks.
Near them arrived, where moss the small flowers chokes,
We stopped awhile to contemplate the group,
The tableau of the quiet slumbering troop;
Athwart the thickness of the verdant crest
Darted the sun, filtering the lustre prest
Huge gnarled trunks, and branches stretched out wide,
And tipped with gold, horn mouth, or glossy side;
Then brought the wind in gusts, by fits intense,
The odours of fresh milk that charm the sense.
A hundred kine were there, and for their guard
One herdsman and a dog,—sole watch and ward.
The man upon a small mound peeled a branch,
The dog lay close beside, alert and staunch,
With ear attentive ever, and his eye
Fixed on his loving master, anxiously.
Kind salutations and some kind words past;
We to the herdsman said, 'To lead so vast
A herd, one dog seems scarce sufficient.'—'True,'
Replied the herdsman, 'but the dogs are few
That equal mine; in forests such as these,
Labyrinthine, dense with brushwood as with trees,
Three dogs would scarcely be too many: mine
Alone can manage and control the kine.
But hold—the sun goes down—the herd must feed
A few hours longer on the open mead.
If you should like to see it wake and stir,
My dog shall show his work and character.'
This said, he rose and cried, 'Hola! Bonhomme!
We must to work: no dog in Christendom
Better deserves the name. Now, jump up! Stand!'
A whistle followed, like a last command.
Swift as an arrow from the bent bow darts,
Ran Bonhomme to the grove's most shadowed parts,
Where the cows slumbered with their colours blent
And glossy skins, packed close as in a tent.
Some time elapsed without the slightest sound,
Or slightest movement in the leaf-hid ground.
Anon, commenced the tinkling of the bells,
And lo! a red flank or a white head swells,
Then one by one they step forth on the plain,
Sleek, grand, enormous, glad to snuff again
The pure air, and enjoy the setting sun.
When all were out, his task allotted done,
The dog came breathless from the shaded nook
With open mouth, and tail that lightly shook,
To ask approval from his master's look.
Then was it, that the young and happy child
Who walked with us, an angel undefiled,
Drew from her basket's depth a bit of bread,
And in compassion bold, and blushing red,
Gave it the dog. He darted at the boon,
Thankful to seize it. Suddenly and soon
Arose the signal whistle once again;
And at that sovereign order, on the plain
The faithful servant flew, nor looked behind,
The tempting object willingly resigned.
No hesitation was there—no delay,
Eager he ran, impatient to obey.
The rapid noble movement made us feel
A pleasure pure we cared not to conceal,
Akin to that which rises up serene
In generous hearts divested of the mean,
At some heroic action unforeseen.
'Heroic?'—Yes, oh, let th' expression stand,
The dog's submission, in our minds, was grand.
Hungry, since morning haply in the wood,
At work—on watch—forlorn in solitude,
Preferred he duty, to the tempting food.