Goatherds

I was born in the town of Aubagne, beneath the goat-crowned Garlaban, in the days of the last goatherds.

Sprightly little goatherds, whose heads are the heads of fauns, and whose half naked and ruddy bodies are often clad in skins, ramble over the precipitous hills with nimble herds able to crop a living from mere stone-piles; and the fauns, Pan-like, pipe to their goats strains Theocritus might have loved.