academic traditions, of creating a word for the moment, is essential to
the freshness of poetic style.

What is to be praised above all in these two exquisite cantos is the
pervading naturalness. The similes and metaphors, however bold and
original, are always drawn from the life of the speakers. Mèste Ambroi,
declining at first to sing, says "_Li mirau soun creba!_" (The mirrors
are broken), referring to the membranes of the locust that make its
song. "Like a scythe under the hammer," "Their heads leaning together
like two marsh-flowers in bloom, blowing in the merry wind," "His words
flowed abundantly like a sudden shower on an aftermath in May," "When
your eyes beam upon me, it seems to me I drink a draught of perfumed
wine," "My sister is burned like a branch of the date tree," "You are
like the asphodel, and the tanned hand of Summer dares not caress your
white brow," "Slender as a dragon-fly," are comparisons taken at random.
Of Mirèio the poet says, "The merry sun hath hatched her out," "Her
glance is like dew, her rounded bosom is a double peach not yet ripe."

The background of the action is obtained by the simplest description, a
cart casting the shadow of its great wheels, a bell now and then
sounding afar off across the marshes, references to the owl adding its
plaint to the song of the nightingale, to the crickets who stop to
listen now and then, and the recurring verses about the "magnanarello"
reminds us now and then, like a lovely leitmotiv, of the group of
singing girls about the amorous pair.

The next canto is called _La Descoucounado_ (The Opening of the
Cocoons), and it must be confessed that there is a slight falling off in
interest. All that describes the life of the country-folk is full of
sustained charm, but Mistral has not escaped the dangers that beset the