The Children's Garland from the Best Poets Part 26

Brown rats, black rats, grey rats, tawny rats, Grave old plodders, gay young friskers, Fathers, mothers, uncles, cousins, c.o.c.king tails, and p.r.i.c.king 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 Caesar, Swam across, and lived to carry (As _he_ the ma.n.u.script he cherished) To Rat-land home his commentary, Which was, 'At the first shrill notes of the pipe, I heard a sound as of sc.r.a.ping tripe, And putting apples wondrous ripe Into a cider press's gripe; 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 b.u.t.ter casks; And it seemed as if a voice (Sweeter far than by harp or by psaltery Is breathed) called out, Oh rats, rejoice!

The world is grown to one vast drysaltery!

So munch on, crunch on, take your nuncheon, Breakfast, dinner, supper, 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.'

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!'

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 b.u.t.t with Rhenish.

To pay this sum to a wandering fellow With a gipsy coat of red and yellow!

'Besides,' 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, 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, was in joke-- Beside, our losses have made us thrifty: 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 Bagdat, and accept the prime Of the head-cook's pottage, all he's rich in, For having left in the caliph's kitchen, Of a nest of scorpions no surviver.

With him I proved no bargain-driver, With you, don't think I'll bate a stiver!

And folks who put me in a pa.s.sion May find me pipe to another fas.h.i.+on.'

'How?' cried the Mayor, 'd'ye think I'll 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.'

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), There was a rustling that seemed like a bustling Of merry crowds justling at pitching and hustling, Small feet were pattering, wooden shoes clattering, Little hands clapping and little tongues chattering, And like fowls in a farmyard when barley is scattering Out came the children running: All the little boys and girls, With rosy cheeks and flaxen curls, And sparkling eyes and teeth like pearls, Tripping and skipping ran merrily after The wonderful music with shouting and laughter.

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.

And now the Mayor was on the rack, And the wretched Council's bosoms beat, 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; He's forced to let the piping drop, 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 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 peac.o.c.ks here, And their dogs outran our fallow-deer, And honey-bees had lost their stings, And horses were born with eagles' wings; And just as I became a.s.sured 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!'

The Mayor sent east, west, north, and south To offer the Piper by word of mouth, Wherever it was man'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 endeavour, 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 labour.

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 neighbours lay such stress, To their fathers and mothers having risen Out of some subterraneous prison Into which they were trepanned Long ago in a mighty band, Out of Hamelin town in Brunswick land, But how or why, they don't understand.

So w.i.l.l.y, 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.

_R. Browning_

LXXIX

_THE TIGER_

Tiger, tiger, burning bright In the forest of the night!

What immortal hand or eye Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

In what distant deeps or skies Burnt the ardour of thine eyes?

On what wings dare he aspire-- What the hand dare seize the fire?

And what shoulder, and what art Could twist the sinews of thy heart?

And when thy heart began to beat, What dread hand form'd thy dread feet?

What the hammer, what the chain, In what furnace was thy brain?

Did G.o.d smile his work to see?

Did He who made the lamb make thee?

_W. Blake_

Lx.x.x

_KING JOHN AND THE ABBOT OF CANTERBURY_

An ancient story I'll tell you anon Of a notable prince, that was called King John; And he ruled England with main and with might, For he did great wrong and maintain'd little right.

And I'll tell you a story, a story so merry, Concerning the Abbot of Canterbury; How for his housekeeping and high renown, They rode post for him to fair London town.

An hundred men, the king did hear say, The Abbot kept in his house every day; And fifty gold chains, without any doubt, In velvet coats waited the Abbot about.

'How now, father Abbot; I hear it of thee, Thou keepest a far better house than me; And for thy housekeeping and high renown, I fear thou work'st treason against my crown.'

'My liege,' quoth the Abbot, 'I would it were known, I never spend nothing but what is my own; And I trust your grace will do me no deere For spending of my own true gotten geere.'

'Yes, yes, father Abbot, thy fault it is high, And now for the same thou needest must die; For except thou canst answer me questions three, Thy head shall be smitten from thy bodie.

'And first,' quoth the king, 'when I'm in this stead, With my crown of gold so fair on my head, Among all my liege-men so n.o.ble of birth, Thou must tell me to one penny what I am worth.

'Secondly tell me, without any doubt, How soon I may ride the whole world about; And at the third question thou must not shrink, But tell me here truly what I do think.'

'O these are hard questions for my shallow wit, Nor I cannot answer your Grace as yet; But if you will give me but three weeks s.p.a.ce, I'll do my endeavour to answer your Grace.'

'Now three weeks s.p.a.ce to thee will I give, And that is the longest time thou hast to live; For if thou dost not answer my questions three, Thy lands and thy livings are forfeit to me.'

Away rode the Abbot all sad at that word, And he rode to Cambridge and Oxenford; But never a doctor there was so wise, That could with his learning an answer devise.

Then home rode the Abbot of comfort so cold, And he met his shepherd a going to fold: 'How now, my lord Abbot, you are welcome home; What news do you bring us from good King John?'