Page:Mistral - Mirèio. A Provençal poem.djvu/125

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And, daring death, he on the brute hath flown,
And dealt a blow marvellous in such an one
Straight from the shoulder to the other's breast,
Who reeled and groped for that whereon to rest,
With darkening eyes and brow cold-beaded, till
He crushed to earth, and all La Crau was still.

Its misty limit blent with the far sea;
The sea's with the blue ether, dreamily.
Still in mid-air there floated shining things,
Swans, and flamingoes on their rosy wings,
Come to salute the last of the sunset
Along the desert meres that glimmered yet.

The white mare of the herdsman lazily
Pulled at the dwarf-oak leaves that grew thereby:
The iron stirrups of the creature jangled,
As loose and heavy at her sides they dangled.
"Stir, and I crush you, ruffian!" Vincen said:
"'Tis not by feet that men are measurèd!"

Then in the silent wold the victor pressed
His heel upon the brander's prostrate breast,
Who writhed beneath it vainly, while the blood
Sluggish and dark from lips and nostrils flowed.
Thrice did he strive the horny foot to move,
And thrice the basket-weaver from above