Page:Mistral - Mirèio. A Provençal poem.djvu/138

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So laid their burden on the broad, flat stone.
They tell Mirèio, to the garden gone
To gather fruit, who, basket on her side,
Fled wildly to the spot. Thither, too, hied
The laborers all; but she, her basket falling,
Stretched forth her hands on Mother Mary calling.

"Vincen is bleeding! Ah, what have they done?"
Then, lovingly, the head of the dear one
She lifted, turned, and long and mutely gazed
As though with horror and with grief amazed,
Her large tears dropping fast. And well he knows
That tender touch to be Mirèio's,

And faintly breathes, "Pity, and pray for me,
Because I need the good God's company!"
"Your parched throat moisten with this cordial.³ Strive
To drink," old Ramoun said: "you will revive."
The maiden seized the cup, and drop by drop
She made him drink, and spake to him of hope

Till his pain lulled. "May God keep you alway
From such distress, and your sweet care repay!"
Said Vincen; and the brave boy would not tell
It was for her sake that he fought and fell;
But "Splitting osier on my breast," he said,
"The sharp knife slipped, and pierced me." Therewith strayed