PROVINCIA DESERTA
I have looked south from Hautefort,
thinking of Montaignac, southward.
I have lain in Rocafixada,
level with sunset,
Have seen the copper come down
tinging the mountains,
I have seen the fields, pale, clear as an emerald,
Sharp peaks, high spurs, distant castles.
I have said: "The old roads have lain here.
"Men have gone by such and such valleys
"Where the great halls are closer together."
I have seen Foix on its rock, seen Toulouse, and Arles greatly altered,
I have seen the ruined "Dorata."
I have said:
"Riquier! Guido."
I have thought of the second Troy,
Some little prized place in Auvergnat:
Two men tossing a coin, one keeping a castle,
One set on the highway to sing.
He sang a woman.
Auvergne rose to the song;
The Dauphin backed him.
"The castle to Austors!"
"Pieire kept the singing—
"A fair man and a pleasant."
He won the lady,
Stole her away for himself, kept her against armed force:
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