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THE PIED PIPER OF HAMELIN.

And his fingers, they noticed, were ever And putting apples, wondrous ripe,

straying

As if impatient to be playing

Upon this pipe, as low it dangled
Over his vesture so old-fangled.)
"Yet," said he, "poor piper as I am,
In Tartary I freed the Cham,

Last June, from his huge swarm of gnats;
I eased in Asia the Nizam

Of a monstrous brood of vampire-bats;
And, as for what your brain bewilders-
If I can rid your town of rats,
Will you give me a thousand guilders?"
"One? fifty thousand!"-was the exclamation
Of the astonished Mayor and Corporation.

VII.

Into the street the Piper stept,

Smiling first a little smile,
As if he knew what magic slept
In his quiet pipe the while;
Then, like a musical adept,

To blow the pipe his lips he wrinkled,
And green and blue his sharp eyes twinkled,
Like a candle flame where salt is sprinkled;
And ere three shrill notes the pipe uttered,
You heard as if an army muttered;
And the muttering grew to a grumbling;
And the grumbling grew to a mighty rum-
bling;

And out of the houses the rats came tumbling.

Great rats, small rats, lean rats, brawny rats,
Brown rats, black rats, grey 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, wives-
Followed the Piper for their lives.
From street to street he piped advancing,
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,

Into a cider-press's gripe

145

And a moving away of pickle-tub-boards,
And a leaving ajar of conserve-cupboards,
And a drawing the corks of train-oil-flasks,
And a breaking the hoops of butter-casks;
And it seemed as if a voice

(Sweeter far than by harp or by psaltery
Is breathed) called out, O rats, rejoice!
The world is grown to one vast drysaltery!
So munch 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."

VIII.

You should have heard the Hamelin people
Ringing the bells till they rocked the steeple;
"Go," cried the Mayor, "and get long poles!
Poke out the nests and block up the holes!
Consult with carpenters and builders,
And leave in our town not even a trace
Of the rats!"—when suddenly, up the face
Of the Piper perked in the market-place,
With a, "First, if you please, my thousand
guilders!"

IX.

A thousand guilders! The Mayor looked blue;

So did the Corporation too.

For council dinners made rare havock
With Claret, Moselle, Vin-de-Grave, Hock;
And half the money would replenish
Their cellar's biggest butt with Rhenish.
To pay this sum to a wandering fellow
With a gipsy coat of red and yellow!
"Beside," quoth the Mayor, with a 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, I think.
So, friend, we're not the folks to shrink
From the duty of giving you something for
drink,

Which was: 66 At the first shrill notes of the And a matter of money to put in your poke;

pipe,

I heard a sound as of scraping tripe,

But, as for the guilders, what we spoke

Of them, as you very well know, was in joke.

Beside, our losses have made us thrifty;
A thousand guilders! Come, take fifty!"

X.

The piper's face fell, and he cried,
"No trifling! I can't wait! beside,
I've promised to visit by dinner time
Bagdat, and accept the prime

XIII.

The Mayor was dumb, and the Council stood,
As if they were changed into blocks of wood,
Unable to move a step, or cry
To the children merrily skipping by-
And could only follow with the eye
That joyous crowd at the Piper's back.
But how the Mayor was on the rack,

Of the Head Cook's pottage, all he's rich in, And the wretched Council's bosoms beat,

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

XI.

As the Piper turned from the High Street
To where the Weser rolled its waters
Right in the way of their sons and daughters!
However, he turned from South to West,
And to Koppelberg Hill his steps addressed,
And after him the children pressed;
Great was the joy in every breast.
"He never can cross that mighty top!

"How?" cried the Mayor, "d'ye think I'll He's forced to let the piping drop,

brook

Being worse treated than a cook?
Insulted by a lazy ribald

With idle pipe and vesture piebald?

You threaten us, fellow? Do your worst,
Blow your pipe there till you burst!"

XII.

Once more he stept into the street;

And to his lips again

Laid his long pipe of smooth straight cane;
And ere he blew three notes (such sweet

Soft notes as yet musician's cunning

Never gave the enraptured air)

And we shall see our children stop!
When, lo, as they reached the mountain's 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.
Did I say all? No! One 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 playmates left!

I can't forget that I'm bereft

There was a rustling that seemed like a bus- Of all the pleasant sights they see,

Which the Piper also promised me;

tling Of merry crowds justling at pitching and For he led us, he said, to a joyous land, Joining the town and just at hand,

hustling; Small feet were pattering, wooden shoes Where waters gushed and fruit-trees grew, And flowers put forth a fairer hue,

clattering,

Little hands clapping, and little tongues And every thing was strange and new;

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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 in!
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 'twas a lost endeavor,
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.
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 that ascribe The outlandish ways and dress

On which their neighbors lay such stress

To their fathers and mothers having risen
Out of some subterranean 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.

So, Willy, let you and me 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.

ROBERT BROWNING.

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To the top of the porch, to the top of the He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a wall! whistle, Now, dash away, dash away, dash away And away they all flew like the down of a all!" thistle;

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of fly,

sight,

night!"

When they meet with an obstacle, mount to “Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good

the sky,

So, up to the house-top the coursers they

flew,

With the sleigh full of toys—and St. Nicho

las too.

And then in a twinkling I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I drew in my head, and was turning
around,

Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a
bound.

He was dressed all in fur from his head to his foot,

And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;

A bundle of toys he had flung on his back, And he looked like a pedler just opening his pack.

His eyes how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!

His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry;

His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,

And the beard on his chin was as white as

the snow.

The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth, And the smoke, it encircled his head like a wreath.

He had a broad face and a little round belly That shook, when he laughed, like a bowl full of jelly.

CLEMENT C. MOORE.

SATURDAY AFTERNOON.

I LOVE to look on a scene like this,
Of wild and careless play,
And persuade myself that I am not old,
And my locks are not yet gray;
For it stirs the blood in an old man's heart,
And makes his pulses fly,

To catch the thrill of a happy voice,
And the light of a pleasant eye.

I have walked the world for fourscore years,
And they say that I am old-

That my heart is ripe for the reaper Death,
And my years are well-nigh told.

It is very true-it is very true—

I am old, and I "bide my time;"
But my heart will leap at a scene like this,
And I half renew my prime.

Play on! play on! I am with you there,
In the midst of your merry ring;

I can feel the thrill of the daring jump,
And the rush of the breathless swing.
I hide with you in the fragrant hay,
And I whoop the smothered call,

He was chubby and plump-a right jolly old And my feet slip up on the seedy floor,

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