Page:Mistral - Mirèio. A Provençal poem.djvu/193

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So, full of chat, and with his basket laden,
Travelled the little man before the maiden;
While the descendiug sun with rose invests
The great blue ramparts and the golden crests
Of the hill-range, peaceful and pure and high,
Blending its outline with the evening sky.

Seemed the great orb, as he withdrew in splendor,
God's peace unto the marshes to surrender,
And to the great lake,¹⁰ and the olives gray
Of the Vaulungo, and the Rhone away
There in the distance, and the reapers weary,
Who now unbend, and quaff the sea-air, cheery.

Till the boy cries that far away he sees
The home-tent's canvas fluttering in the breeze.
"And the white poplar, dear maid, seest thou?
And brother Not, who climbs it even now?
He 's there after cicalas, be thou sure;
Or to spy me returning o'er the moor.

"Ah, now he sees us! And my sister Zeto,
Who helped him with her shoulder, turns this way too;
And seems to tell my mother that she may
Put the flsh-broth¹¹ to boil without delay.
And mother also, I can see her leaning
Over the boat, and the fresh fish a-gleaning,"