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

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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.