CANTO VI.
THE WITCH.
THE merry birds, until the white dawn showeth
Clear in the east, are silent every one.
Silent the odorous Earth until she knoweth
In her warm heart the coining of the Sun,
As maiden in her fairest robes bedight
Breathless awaits her lover and her flight.
Across La Crau three swineherds held their way
From St. Chamas the wealthy, whither they
Had to the market gone. Their herds were sold,
And o'er their shoulders pouches full of gold
Were hung, and by their hanging cloaks concealed:
So, chatting idly, they attained the field
Of the late strife. Suddenly one cried, "Hush!
Comrades, I hear a moaning in the bush."
"'Tis but a tolling hell," the rest averred,
"From Saint Martin's or from Maussano1 heard,
Or the north wind the dwarf-oak limbs a-swaying."
But, ere they spake, all were their steps delaying,
