Page:Mistral - Mirèio. A Provençal poem.djvu/121

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His face was purple, quivered all his frame.
"Oh, better try!" the mocking answer came.
"You 'll roll headfirst upon the gravel, neighbor!
Bah, puny hands! meet for no better labor
Than to twist osiers when they 're supple made;
Or to rob hen-roosts, lurking in the shade!"

Stung by the insult, "Yes, I can twist osier,
And I can twist your neck with nil composure,"
Said Vincen, "Fly me, coward, while you may!
Or, by St. Jacques of Gallicia,
You 'll never see your tamarisks any more!
This iron first shall bray your limbs before!"

Wondering, and charmed to find by such quick chance
A man whereon to wreak his vengeance,
"Wait!" said the herdsman: "be not over-hot!
First let me have a pipe, young idiot!"
And brought to light a buckskin pouch, and set
Between his teeth a broken calumet.

Then scornfully, "While rocking you, my lamb,
Under the goose-foot,⁶ did your gypsy-dam
Ne'er tell the tale of Jan de l'Ourse,⁷ pray?—
Two men in one, who, having gone one day,
By orders, to plough stubble with two yoke,
Seized plough and teams, as shepherds do a crook,