Part 12 (1/2)

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 havoc 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 gypsy 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, And a matter of money to put into 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!”

X.

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'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!

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

XI.

”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!”

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) 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.

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-- --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-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!”

XIV.