And cakes so sweet and good, And see, beneath my mantle A flask of grapes' rich blood. Alas, my faithful shepherd, In what place shall we sleep? Above, in my thatched cottage, Within the wood so deep. I have a place of shelter Wherein no cold can creep. Alas, my faithful shepherd, What if my father knew? Tell him, my beloved, That your shepherd true Came upon the mountain To keep the wolf from you. In Le Berger qui me fait le Cour, the shepherdess displays more grace and sentiment in refusing to point out the identity of her lover, while avowing her charming and spontaneous affection. THE SHEPHERD WHO MAKES LOVE TO ME. The shepherd who makes love to me, The shepherd who makes love to me, Is the bravest you can see. Ask me not to tell you more. I lead my sheep upon the plain, I lead my sheep upon the plain, And my cows to browse again. Ask me not to tell you more. My lambkins feed along the glade, My lambkins feed along the glade, And I am seated in the shade. Ask me not to tell you more. My shepherd comes to see me there, My shepherd comes to see me there, And tells me I am sweet and fair. Ask me not to tell you more. In listening to his love words deep, In listening to his love words deep, My eyelids close; I'm charmed to sleep. Ask me not to tell you more. I dream my shepherd is a dove, I dream my shepherd is a dove, And my fond heart his cage of love, Ask me not to tell you more. The maiden surprised by her lover as she lies asleep beneath the shade is a favorite subject in all folk-poetry, but it is seldom that it has been treated with a greater grace and charm than in La Belle Endormie. The sentiment has all the simplicity and purity of spontaneous love, and the language the sweet naïveté of folk-song, however much of its charm may have vanished in the translation. THE FAIR ONE ASLEEP. In walking in the garden, To shun the burning light, I saw beneath the leafage A maid of beauty bright. With noiseless feet I crept To where the damsel slept. With noiseless feet I tip-toed To give her no alarm, Her head had for a pillow Her round and rosy arm, As softly as the air I kissed her dreaming there. And while she lay in slumber, I sought a garden bed, And on her snowy bosom I placed a rosebud red. The flower's breath of balm Dispelled her slumber's charm. When slumber's charm had vanished, She woke with laughing eyes; Oh, magic love, how charming To catch hearts by surprise! To wake them like the dawn, When spring-time is new-born. In the bosquet of Pouzange