A Sheaf Gleaned in French Fields/The Oxen (Pierre Dupont)
THE OXEN.
I've two great oxen in my stable,
Two great white oxen marked with red,
The plough is made of wood of maple,
The goad of holly, hard as lead.
Thanks to my oxen, see my plain
In summer like a sea of gold!
More money in a week they gain,
Than what they cost by twenty-fold.
Should I be forced to sell them out,
I'll hang myself, without a doubt;
I love my wife, and well my Jeanne I cherish,
But let her die, before my favourites perish.
See the lovely pair together!
How deep they plough, how straight they trace!
Rain, and sleet, and stormy weather,
Cold and heat, alike they face!
When I make them halt to drink
From their nostrils bursts a vapour!
And sometimes small birds, white and pink,
Settle on ebon horns that taper!
Should I be forced to sell them out,
I'll hang myself, without a doubt;
I love my wife, and well my Jeanne I cherish,
But let her die, before my favourites perish.
Strong they are as mills, or presses,
Lamb-like, gentle—free from vice,
At markets—oh, what pats, caresses!
And then the question—'What's their price?'
Men want to lead them to the king:
I pledge His Majesty in wine,
But sell them—that's a different thing!
I will not sell them,—they are mine.
Should I be forced to sell them out,
I'll hang myself, without a doubt;
I love my wife, and well my Jeanne I cherish,
But let her die, before my favourites perish.
When our daughter shall have grown,
If the Prince desire her hand,
I shall give him all I own,
House and silver, goods and land;
But if for dowry he should pray
The oxen white and red,—good lack!
My daughter, throw that crown away,
Lead, lead the cattle homeward back!
Should I be forced to sell them out,
I'll hang myself, without a doubt;
I love my wife, and well my Jeanne I cherish,
But let her die, before my favourites perish.