WHEN violets are blue in the blue shadows
Of the o’erhanging trees,
The youth who stray in pairs about the meadows
Are glad to gather these.
When peace descends upon the troubled Ocean,
And he his wrath forgets,
Flock from Martigue the boats with wing-like motion,
The fishes fill their nets.
And when the girls of Crau bloom into beauty
(And fairer earth knows not),
Aye are there suitors ready for their duty
In castle and in cot.
Thus to Mirèio’s home came seeking her
A trio notable,—a horse-tamer,
A herdsman, and a shepherd. It befell
The last was first who came his tale to tell.
Alari was his name, a wealthy man—
He had a thousand sheep, the story ran.
The same were wont to feed the winter long
In rich salt-pastures by Lake Entressen.
And at wheat-boiling time, in burning May,
Himself would often lead his flock, they say,
Up through the hills to pastures green and high:
They say moreover, and full faith have I,
That ever as St. Mark’s came round again
Nine noted shearers Alari would retain
Three days to shear his flock. Added to these
A man to bear away each heavy fleece,
And a sheep-boy who back and forward ran
And filled the shearer’s quickly emptied can.
But when the summer heats began to fail
And the high peaks to feel the snowy gale,
A stately sight it was that flock to see
Wind from the upper vales of Dauphiny,
And o’er the Crau pursue their devious ways,
Upon the toothsome winter grass to graze.
Also to watch them there where they defile
Into the stony road were well worth while;
The early lambkins all the rest outstripping
And merrily about the lamb-herd leaping,
The bell-decked asses with their foals beside,
Or following after them. These had for guide
A drover, who a patient mule bestrode.
Its wattled panniers bare a motley load:
Food for the shepherd-folk, and flasks of wine,
And the still bleeding hides of slaughtered kine;
And folded garments whereon oft there lay
Some weakly lamb, a-weary of the way.
Next came abreast—the captains of the host—
Five fiery bucks, their fearsome heads uptost:
With bells loud jingling and with sidelong glances,
And backward curving horns, each one advances.
The sober mothers follow close behind,
Striving their lawless little kids to mind.
A rude troop and a ravenous they are,
And these the goat-herd hath in anxious care.
And after them there follow presently
The great ram-chiefs, with muzzles lifted high:
You know them by the heavy horn that lies
Thrice curved about the ear in curious wise.