Page:Mistral - Mirèio. A Provençal poem.djvu/208

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"Then I grew pale, and all my breath was gone;
And, seized as with a strong convulsion,
I ground my jaws. A dreadful shudder grew
Upon me,—and my hair upraised, I knew,
As thistle-down is raised by the wind's breath;
But the wind sweeping over me was Death."

"Mother of God!" Mirèio's mother cried
In anguish, "do thou in thy mantle hide
Mine own sweet child!" and on her knees she dropped,
With lifted eyes and parted lips; yet stopped
Ere any word was spoken, for she saw
Antéume, shepherd-chief and milker, draw

Hurriedly toward them. "And why," he was panting,
"Was she the junipers untimely haunting?"
Then, the ring entering, his tale he told.
"This morn, as we were milking in the fold,—
So early that above the bare plain showed
The sky yet hob-nailed with the stars of God,—

"A soul, a shadow, or a spectre swept
Across the way. The dogs all silence kept,
As if afraid, and the sheep huddled close.
Thought I,—who scarce have time, as master knows,
Ever an Ave in the church to offer,—
'Speak, soul, if thou art blest. If not, go suffer!'