He meets his enemy, a blow delivers
Full in the face; but ah! the trident shivers.
The beast becomes a demon with the wound:
The brander grasps his horns, is whirled around,—
They start together, and are borne amain,
Crushing the salicornes along the plain.
The mounted herdsmen, on their long goads leaning,
Regard the mortal fray; for each is meaning
Dire vengeance now. The man the brute would crush,
The brute bears off the man with furious rush;
The while with heavy, frothy tongue he clears
The blood that to his hanging lip adheres.
The brute prevailed. The man fell dazed, and lay
Like a vile rakeful in the monster’s way.
“Sham dead!” went up a cry of agony.
Vain words! The beast his victim lifted high
On cruel horns and savage head inclined,
And flung him six and forty feet behind!
Once more a deafening outcry filled the place
And shook the tamarisks. But Ourrias
Fell prone to earth, and ever after wore he
The ugly scar that marred his brow so sorely.
Now, mounted on his mare, he paces slow
With goad erect to seek Mirèio.
It chanced the little maid was all alone.
She had, that morning, to the fountain gone;
And here, with sleeves and petticoats uprolled
And small feet dabbling in the water cold,
She was her cheese-forms cleaning with shave-grass;
And, lady saints! how beautiful she was!
“Good-morrow, pretty maid!” began the wooer,
“Thy forms will shine like mirrors, to be sure!
Will it offend thee, if I lead my mare
To drink out of thy limpid streamlet there?”
“Pray give her all thou wilt, at the dam head:
We’ve water here to spare!” the maiden said.
“Fair one!” spake the wild youth, “if e’er thou come
As pilgrim or as bride to make thy home
At Sylvarèal by the noisy wave,
No life of toil like this down here thou’lt have!
Our fierce black cows are never milked, but these
Roam all at large, and women sit at ease.”
“Young man, in cattle-land, I’ve heard them say,
Maids die of languor.”—“Pretty maiden, nay:
There is no languor where two are together!”
“But brows are blistered in that burning weather,
And bitter waters drunk.”—“When the sun shines,
My lady, thou shalt sit beneath the pines!”
“Ah! but they say, young man, those pines are laden
With coils of emerald serpents.”—“Fairest maiden,
We’ve herons also, and flamingoes red
That chase them down the Rhone with wings outspread
Like rosy scarfs.”—“Then, I would have thee know
Lotus and pine too far asunder grow!”
“But priests and maids, my beauty, ne’er can tell,
The saw affirms, the land where they may dwell
And eat their bread.”—“Let mine but eaten be
With him I love: that were enough,” said she,
“To lure me from the home-nest to remove.”
“If that be so, sweet one, give me thy love!”