Then, like a musical adept,1
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 êre 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 rumbling; And out of the houses the rats came tumbling. 11. Great rats, small rats, lean rats, brawny rats, Brown rats, black rats, gray rats, tawny rats,
'A děpt', one fully skilled or well versed in any art.
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 Wēşer
Wherein all plunged and perished-
Save one who, stout as Julius Cæsar,1
Swam across, and lived to carry
(As the manuscript he cherished),
To Rat-land hōme 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 ajar of conserve-cupboards,
And a drawing the corks of train-oil flåsks,
And a breaking the hoops of butter-cȧsks;
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!2
So munch on, crunch on, take your nunchion,
Breakfast, supper, dinner, luncheon!'
And just as a bulky sugar-puncheon,
All ready staved, like a great sun shōne
Glōrious, scarce an inch before me,
Just as methought it said, 'Come, bōre me!'—
I found the Weser rolling o'er me."
1 Julius Cæsar, a Roman warrior, statesman, and man of letters, who was one of the most remarkable men of any age.
2 Dry'salt'er y, the articles kept by, or the business of, a drysaltery -a dealer in salted or dried meats, pickles, sauces, &c.
Ringing the bells till they rocked the steeple; "Go," cried the Mayor, "and gět 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 gilders!"
2. A thousand gilders! The Mayor looked blue;
So did the Corporation too:
For council dinners make râre havoc
With Claret,1 Moselle,1 Vin-de-Grave,1 Hock; 1
And hälf the money would replenish
Their cellar's biggest butt with Rhĕn'ish.1
To pay this sum to a wandering fellow
With a gypsy coat of red and yellōw!
3. "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 eän't come to life, I think.
So, friend, we're not the folks to shrink
From the duty of giving you something to drink,
And a matter of money to put in your poke;
But, as for the gilders, what we spoke
Of them, as you very well know, was in joke.
Besides, our losses have made us thrifty;2
A thousand gilders! Come, take fifty !"
4. The Piper's face fell, and he cried,
"No trifling! I can't wait! beside,
I've promised to visit, by dinner-time,
Bägdäd', 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 survivor—
With him I proved no bargain-driver,
With you, don't think I'll bate a stiver! s
And folks who put me in a passion
May find me pipe to another fashion."
5. "How?" cried the Mayor, "d'ye think I'll brook
Being worse treated than a cook?
Insulted by a lazy ribald 4
With idle pipe, and vesture piebald ?5
1 Wines of different names.
2 Thrift'y, frugal; spâring.
3 Sti'ver, a Dutch coin of the value of two cents.
4 Ribald, a low, vulgar, brutal, foul-mouthed fellow.
5 Pie’bald, of various colors; diversified in color.
You threaten us, fellow? Do your worst,
Blow your pipe thêre till you bûrst!"
6. Once more he stepped into the street;
And to his lips again
Laid his long pipe of smooth, straight cane;
And êre he blew three notes (such sweet
Soft notes as yet musician's cunning
Never gave the enraptured1 âir),
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 bands clapping, and little tongues chattering;
And like fowls in the farm-yard when barley is scattering,
Out came the children running.
All the little boys and girls,
With rosy cheeks, and flaxen cûrls,
And sparkling eyes, ånd teeth like pearls,
Tripping and skipping, ran měrrily after
The wonderful music with shouting and läughter.
7. 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 měrrily 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,
And the wretched Council's bosoms beat,
As the Piper tûrned from the High Street
To where the Wēşer rolled its waters
Right in the way of their sons and daughters!
8. 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!"
1 En răpt'ūred, delighted beyond measure.
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