Page:Mistral - Mirèio. A Provençal poem.djvu/226

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"Is the young mother happy to impart
Unto her baby, with a swelling heart,
The first warm jet of milk? One bitter drop,
Mingled therewith, may poison all her hope.
Now see her lean, distraught, the cradle over,
And a fair little corse with kisses cover.

"And hath she happiness, the promised bride,
Wandering churchward by her lover's side?
Ah, no! The path under those lingering feet
Thornier shall prove, to those who travel it,
Than sloe-hush of the moorland. Here below
Are only trial sharp and weary woe.

"And here below the purest waters ever
Are bitter on the lips of the receiver;
The worm is born within the fruit alway;
And all things haste to ruin and decay.
The orange thou hast chosen, out of all
The basket's wealth, shall one day taste as gall.

"And in thy world, Mirèio, they who seem
To breathe sigh only. And should any dream
Of drinking at the founts that run not dry,
Anguish alone such bitter draught will buy.
So must the atone be broken evermore,
Ere thou extract the shining silver ore.