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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."
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:
Families by teus
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
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.
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!
The gray sea and the long black land:
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.
HOME-THOUGHTS, FROM ABROAD
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!
HOME-THOUGHTS, FROM THE SEA
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
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
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!
RUDEL TO THE LADY OF TRIPOLI
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
THERE'S A WOMAN LIKE A DEI.
(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