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Consult with carpenters and builders And leave in our town not even a tra Of the rats !”—when suddenly, up the

face Of the Piper perked in the market-place, With a.

First, if you please, my tb ® sand guilders!"


And the grumbling grew to a mighty

rumbling; And out of the houses the rats came

tumbling. Great rats, small rats, lean rats, brawny

rats, Brown rats, black rats, gray rats, tawny

rats, Grave old plodders, gay young friskers,

Fathers, mothers, uncles, cousins, Cocking tails and pricking whiskers,

Families by tens and dozens, Brothers, sisters, husbands, wivesFollowed the Piper for their lives. From street to street he piped advanc

ing, And step for step they followed dancing, Until they came to the river Weser, Wherein all plunged and perished ! -Save one who, stout as Julius Cæsar, Swam across and lived to carry (As he, the manuscript he cherished) To Rat-land home his commentary : Which was,

“At the first shrill notes of the pipe, I heard a sound as of scraping tripe, And putting apples, wondrous ripe, Into a cider-press's gripe : And a moving away of pickle-tub-boards, And a leaving a jar of conserve-cup

boards, And a drawing the corks of train-oil

flasks, And a breaking the boops of butter

casks : And it seemed as if a voice (Sweeter far than by harp or by psaltery Is breathed) called out, «Oh rats, re

joice! The world is grown to one vast dry

saltery! So much on, crunch on, take your

nuncheon, Breakfast, supper, dinner, luncheon!' And just as a bulky sugar puncheon, All ready staved, like a great sun shone Glorious scarce an inch before me, Just as methought it said, • Come, bore

me! -I found the Weser rolling o'er me.”

A thousand guilders! The Mayor local

blue; So did the Corporation too. For council dinners made rare haroc With Claret, Moselle, Vin-de-Grate,

Hock; And half the money would replenish Their cellar's biggest butt with Rhenish To pay this sum to a wandering fellow With a gypsy coat of red and yellos! ". Beside, quoth the Mayor with :

knowing wink, “Our business was done at the river's

brink; We saw with our eyes the vermin sink And what 's dead can't come to life, !

think. So, friend, we 're not the folks to shrick From the duty of giving you somethire

for drink, And a matter of money to put in your

poke : But as for the guilders, what we spoke Of them, as you very well know, tas ir

joke. Beside, our losses have made iis thrift A thousand guilders! Come, take fifty:



The Piper's face fell, and he cried,

No trifling! I can't wait, beside! I 've promised to visit by dinner time Bagdad, and accept the prime of the Head-Cook's pottage, all he

rich in, For having left, in the Caliph's kitchen, Of a nest of scorpions no survivor : With him I proved no bargain-driver. With you, don't think I'll bate a stirer! And folks who put me in a passion May find me pipe after another fashion."

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ce more he stepped into the street, And to his lips again id his long pipe of smooth straight

cane ; ind ere he blew three notes (such

sweet ft notes as yet musician's cunning Never gave the enraptured air) ere was a rustling that seemed like a

bustling merry crowds justling at pitching

and hustling ; all feet were pattering, wooden shoes

clattering ttle hands clapping and little tongues

chattering, nd, like fowls in a farm-yard when

barley is scattering. it came the children running. I the little boys and girls, ith rosy cheeks and flaxen curls, nd sparkling eyes and teeth like pearls, ripping and skipping, ran merrily after ne wonderful music with shouting and


Did I say all ? No! Oue was lame, And could not dance the whole of the

way ; And in after years if you would blame His sadness, he was used to say,-· It 's dull in our town since my play

mates left! I can't forget that I'm bereft Of all the pleasant sights they see. Which the Piper also promised me. For he led us, he said, to a joyous land, Joining the town and just at hand, Where waters gushed and fruit-trees

grew And flowers put forth a fairer hue, And everything was strange and new ; The sparrows were brighter than pea

cocks here, And th dogs outran our fallow deer, And honey-bees had lost their stings, And horses were born with eagles'

wings; And just as I became assured My lame foot would be speedily cured, The music stopped and I stood still, And found myself outside the hill, Left alone against my will, To go now limping as before, And never hear of that country more!”



he Mayor was dumb, and the Council

stood s if they were changed into blocks of

wood, Inable to move a step, or cry. o the children merrily skipping by, -Could only follow with the eye 'hat joyous crowd at the Piper's back. But how the Mayor was on the rack, ind the wretched Council's bosoms beat, is the Piper turned from the High Street o where the Weser rolled its waters Right in the way of their sons and daugh

ters ! lowever, he turned from South to West, ind to Koppelberg Hill his steps ad

dressed, Ind after him the children pressed ; freat was the joy in every breast.

He never can cross that mighty top! le's forced to let the piping drop, Ind we shall see our children stop ! ” When, lo, as they reached the mountain

side, A wondrous portal opened wide. As if a cavern was suddenly hollowed ; And the Piper advanced and the children

followed, And when all were in to the very last. The door in the mountain-side shut fast.

Alas, alas for Hamelin !

There came into many a burgher's pate A text which says that heaven's gate

Opes to the rich at as easy rate As the needle's eye takes a camel iu ! The Mayor sent East, West, North and

South, To offer the Piper, by word of mouth.

Wherever it was men's lot to find him, Silver and gold to his heart's content, If he'd only return the way he went,

And bring the children behind him. But when they saw 't was a lost en

deavor, And Piper and dancers were gone for

ever, They made a decree that lawyers never

Should think their records dated duly If, after the day of the month and year, These words did not as well appear. “ And so long after what happened here

On the Twenty-second of July, Thirteen hundred and seventy-six :" And the better in memory to fix The place of the children's last retreat, They called it, the Pied Piper's Street Where any one playing on pipe or tabor Was sure for the future to lose his labor.


And the grumbli

rumbling : And out of the i

tumbling Great rats, smal:

Brown rats, black ru

Grave old plodders,

Fathers, mothers,
Cocking tails and

Families by teus
Brothers, sisters
Followed the Pipes
From street to an

And step for ste
Until they cand
Wherein all jul
-Save one will
Swam across
(As he, them
To Rat-land
Which was

the pi
I heard a su
And puttin
Into a cida
And a mo
And al

bom And a

Dedl bravely, the fault's ..Jer at Aix"—for one heard ... wheeze

saw the stretched neck and sering knees,

tail, and horrible heave of the on her haunches she shuddered u sank. were left galloping, Joris and I, ez and past Tongres, no cloud in The sky

[laugh. eral sun above laughed a pitiless in our feet broke the brittle bright

subble like chaff ; ver by Dalhem a dome-spire sprang rhite.

allop," gasped Joris, “ for Aix is in sight!

they 'll greet us!”—and all in a

moment his roan For neck and croup over, lay dead as

& stone; ni there was my Roland to bear the

whole weight E the news which alone could save six

from her fate, th his nostrils like pits full of blood to

the brim, ind with circles of red for his eye

sockets' rim. Then I cast loose my buffcoat, each hol

ster let fall, Shook off both my jack-boots, let go belt and all,

[his ear. Stood up in the stirrup, leaned, patted Called my Roland his pet-name, my horse Clapped my hands, laughed and sang,

any noise, bad or good, Till at length into Aix Roland gallopel

and stood.


without peer ;

And all I remember is—friends flocking

round As I sat with his head 'twixt my knees

on the ground: And no voice but was praising this Rol

and of mine, As I poured down his throat our last

measure of wine, Which (the burgesses voted by common

consent) Was no more than his due who brought good news from Ghent.

18.8. 1845.

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E, as the prettiest graves will do in

time, ir poet's wants the freshness of its

prime; vite of the sexton's browsing horse, the

sods are struggled through its binding osier

rods ; tadstone and half-sunk footstone lean

awry, Canting the brick-work promised by

and-by; ow the minute gray lichens, plate o'er

plate, Lave softened down the crisp-cut name

and date !

NAY but you, who do not love her,

Is she not pure gold, my mistress? Holds earth aught--speak truth-above

her ? Aught like this tress, see, and this tress, And this last fairest tress of all, So fair, see, ere I let it fall? Because you spend your lives in praising: To praise, you search the wide world

over: Then why not witness, calmly gazing, If earth holds aught-speak truth

above her ? Above this tress, and this, I touch But cannot praise, I love so much!


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The gray sea and the long black land:
And the yellow half-moon large and low;
And the startled little waves that leap
In fiery ringlets from their sleep,
As I gain the cove with pushing prow,
and quench its speed i' the slushy sand.
Then a mile of warm sea-scented beach ;
Three fields to cross till a farm appears ;
A tap at the pane, the quick sharp scratch
And blue spurt of a lighted match,
And a voice less loud, through its joys

and fears, Than the two hearts beating each to each!

1815. PARTING AT MORNING Round the cape of a sudden came the sea, And the sun looked over the mountain's

rim : And straight was a path of gold for him, And the need of a world of men for me.


Oh, to be in England
Now that April 's there,
And whoever wakes in England
Sees, some morning, unaware,
That the lowest boughs and the brush-

wood sheaf Round the elm-tree bole are in tiny leaf. While the chattinch sings on the orchard

bough In England-now! And after April, when May follows, And the whitethroat builds, and all the

swallows! Hark, where my blossomed pear-tree in

the hedge Leans to the field and scatters on the

clover Blossoms and dewdrops-at the bent

spray's edgeThat is the wise thrush; he sings each

song twice over, Lest you should think he never could re

capture The first fine careless rapture ! And though the fields look rough with

hoary dew, All will be gay when noontide wakes The buttercups, the little children's

dower - Far brighter than this gaudy melonflower!




NOBLY, nobly Cape Saint Vincent to the

Northwest died away ;

Is reared, and still with old names, fresti

names vie, Each to its proper praise and o

account: Men call the Flower the Sunflow



Nor suffered they hostelry or tavern
To shock with mirth a street SO

solemn ;
But opposite the place of the cavern

They wrote the story on a column. And on the great church-window painted The same, to make the world acquainted How their children were stolen away, And there it stands to this very day. And I must not omit to say That in Transylvania there 's a tribe Of alien people who ascribe The outlandish ways and dress On which their neighbors lay such stress, To their fathers and mothers having

risen Out of some subterraneous prison Into which they were trepanned Long time ago in a mighty band Out of Hamelin town in Brunswick land, But how or why, they don't understand.

Oh, Angel of the East, one, one gold lari Across the waters to this twilight on -The far sad waters, Angel, to the





So, Willy, let me and you be wipers
Of scores out with all men-especially

pipers ! And, whether they pipe us free from rats

or from mice, If we've promised them aught, let us keep our promise !


Dear Pilgrim, art thou for the East ir

deed ? Go !--saying ever as thou dost proured That I. French Rudel, choose for ny

device A sunflower outspread like a sacrifice Before its idol. See! These inexpert And hurried fingers could not fail to

hurt The woven picture : 't is a woman's skill Indeed; but nothing baffled me, s), ili Or well, the work is finished. Saç, met

feed On songs I sing, and therefore bask the

bees On my flower's breast as on a platform

broad : But as the flower's concern is not for

these But solely for the sun, so men applaud In vain this Rudel, he not looking here But to the East-the East! Go, sar this, Pilgrim dear!



I KNOW a Mount, the gracious Sun per

ceives First, when he visits, last, too, when he

leaves The world ; and, vainly favored, it repays The day-long glory of his steadfast gaze By no change of its large calm front of

Snow. And underneath the Mount, a Flower I

know, He cannot have perceived, that changes




(FROM A BLOT IN THE SCUTCHEON] THERE's a woman like a dewdrop, she's

so purer than the purest ; And her noble heart's the noblest, Fem

and her sure faith 's the surest: And her eyes are dark and humid, like

the depth on depth of lustre Hid i'the harebell, while her tresses, suck

nier than the wild-grape cluster, Gush in golden-tinted plenty down her

neck's rose-misted marble: Then her voice's music ... call it the !

well's bubbling, the bird's warble!! And this woman says, “ My days were

sunless and my nights were mont

At his approach ; and, in the lost en

deavor To live his life, has parted, one by one, With all a flower's true graces, for the

grace Of being but a foolish mimic sun, With ray-like florets round a disk-like

face. Men nobly call by many a name the

Mount As over many a land of theirs its large Calm front of snow like a triumphal


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