ALSO that summer came to Lotus Place | |
| One from Petite Camargue, called Ourrias. | |
| Breaker and brander of wild cattle he; | |
| And black and furious all the cattle be | |
| Over those briny pastures wild who run, | 5 |
| Maddened by flood and fog and scalding sun. | |
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| Alone this Ourrias had them all in charge | |
| Summer and winter, where they roamed at large. | |
| And so, among the cattle born and grown, | |
| Their build, their cruel heart, became his own; | 10 |
| His the wild eye, dark color, dogged look. | |
| How often, throwing off his coat, he took | |
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| His cudgel,—savage weaner!—never blenching, | |
| And first the young calves from the udders wrenching, | |
| Upon the wrathful mother fell so madly | 15 |
| That cudgel after cudgel brake he gladly, | |
| Till she, by his brute fury masteréd, | |
| Wild-eyed and lowing to the pine-copse fled! | |
| |
| Oft in the branding at Camargue had he | |
| Oxen and heifers, two-year-olds and three, | 20 |
| Seized by the horns and stretched upon the ground. | |
| His forehead bare the scar of an old wound | |
| Fiery and forked like lightning. It was said | |
| That once the green plain with his blood was red. | |
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| On a great branding-day befell this thing: | 25 |
| To aid the mighty herd in mustering, | |
| Li Santo, Agui Morto, Albaron, | |
| And Faraman a hundred horsemen strong | |
| Had sent into the desert. And the herd | |
| Roused from its briny lairs, and, forward spurred | 30 |
| |
| By tridents of the branders close behind, | |
| Fell on the land like a destroying wind. | |
| Heifers and bulls in headlong gallop borne | |
| Plunged, crushing centaury and salicorne; | |
| And at the branding-booth at last they mustered, | 35 |
| Just where a crowd three hundred strong had clustered. | |
| |
| A moment, as if scared, the beasts were still. | |
| Then, when the cruel spur once more they feel, | |
| They start afresh, into a run they break, | |
| And thrice the circuit of the arena make; | 40 |
| As marterns fly a dog, or hawks afar | |
| By eagles in the Luberon hunted are. | |
| |
| Then Ourrias—what ne’er was done before— | |
| Leaped from his horse beside the circus-door | |
| Amid the crowd. The cattle start again, | 45 |
| All saving five young bulls, and scour the plain; | |
| But these, with flaming eyes and horns defying | |
| Heaven itself, are through the arena flying. | |
| |
| And he pursues them. As a mighty wind | |
| Drives on the clouds, he goads them from behind, | 50 |
| And presently outstrips them in the race; | |
| Then thumps them with the cruel goad he sways, | |
| Dances before them as infuriate, | |
| And lets them feel his own fists’ heavy weight. | |
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| The people clap and shout, while Ourrias | 55 |
| White with Olympic dust encountered has | |
| One bull, and seized him by the horns at length; | |
| And now ’t is head to muzzle, strength for strength. | |
| The monster strains his prisoned horns to free | |
| Until he bleeds, and bellows horribly. | 60 |
| |
| But vain his fury, useless all his trouble! | |
| The neatherd had the art to turn and double | |
| And force the huge head with his shoulder round, | |
| And shove it roughly back, till on the ground | |
| Christian and beast together rolled, and made | 65 |
| A formless heap like some huge barricade. | |
| |
| The tamarisks are shaken by the cry | |
| Of “Brave Ourrias! That ’s done valiantly!” | |
| While five stout youths the bull pin to the sward; | |
| And Ourrias, his triumph to record, | 70 |
| Seizes the red-hot iron with eager hand, | |
| The vanquished monster on the hip to brand. | |
| |
| Then come a troop of girls on milk-white ponies,— | |
| Arlesians,—flushed and panting every one is, | |
| As o’er the arena at full gallop borne | 75 |
| They offer him a noble drinking-horn | |
| Brimful of wine; then turn and disappear, | |
| Each followed by her faithful cavalier. | |
| |
| The hero heeds them not. His mind is set | |
| On the four monsters to be branded yet: | 80 |
| The mower toils the harder for the grass | |
| He sees unmown. And so this Ourrias | |
| Fought the more savagely as his foes warmed, | |
| And conquered in the end,—but not unharmed. | |
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| White-spotted, and with horns magnificent, | 85 |
| The fourth beast grazed the green in all content. | |
| “Now, man, enough!” in vain the neatherds shouted; | |
| Couched is the trident and the caution flouted; | |
| With perspiration streaming, bosom bare, | |
| Ourrias the spotted bull charged then and there! | 90 |
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| He meets his enemy, a blow delivers | |
| Full in the face; but ah! the trident shivers. | |
| The beast becomes a demon with the wound: | |
| The brander grasps his horns, is whirled around,— | |
| They start together, and are borne amain, | 95 |
| Crushing the salicornes along the plain. | |
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| The mounted herdsmen, on their long goads leaning, | |
| Regard the mortal fray; for each is meaning | |
| Dire vengeance now. The man the brute would crush; | |
| The brute bears off the man with furious rush, | 100 |
| The while with heavy, frothy tongue he clears | |
| The blood that to his hanging lip adheres. | |
| |
| The brute prevailed. The man fell dazed, and lay | |
| Like a vile rakeful in the monster’s way. | |
| “Sham dead!” went up a cry of agony. | 105 |
| Vain words! The beast his victim lifted high | |
| On cruel horns and savage head inclined, | |
| And flung him six and forty feet behind! | |
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| Once more a deafening outcry filled the place | |
| And shook the tamarisks. But Ourrias | 110 |
| Fell prone to earth, and ever after wore he | |
| The ugly scar that marred his brow so sorely. | |
| Now, mounted on his mare, he paces slow | |
| With goad erect to seek Mirèio. | |
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