And a drawing the corks of train oil flasks, (Sweeter far than by harp or by psaltery Is breathed) called out, 'O rats, rejoice! The world is grown to one vast drysaltery! And just as a bulky sugar puncheon, You should have heard the Hamelin people 66 Go," cried the mayor, "and get long poles! Poke out the nests and block up the holes! With a "First, if you please, my thousand guilder!" A thousand guilders! The mayor looked blue; Το pay this sum to a wandering fellow With a gypsy 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 to drink, Of them, as you very well know, was in joke. The piper's face fell, and he cried, Of the head cook's pottage, all he's rich in, "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 stepped 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 farm yard, 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, The wonderful music, with shouting and laughter. The mayor was dumb, and the council stood To the children merrily skipping by,- Right in the way of their sons and daughters! 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: 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, For he led us, he said, to a joyous land, Where waters gushed and fruit trees grew, The sparrows were brighter than peacocks here, And honey bees had lost their stings, My lame foot would be speedily cured, To go now limping as before, And never hear of that country more!" Alas, alas for Hamelin ! There came into many a burgher's pate As the needle's eye takes a camel in! And bring the children behind him. And the better in memory to fix 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, Long ago, in a mighty band, Out of Hamelin town in Brunswick land; But how, or why, they don't understand. |