Volume I Part 45 (1/2)
The summer and autumn had been so wet, That in winter the corn was growing yet: 'Twas a piteous sight to see, all around, The grain lie rotting on the ground.
Every day the starving poor Crowded around Bishop Hatto's door; For he had a plentiful last-year's store, And all the neighborhood could tell His granaries were furnished well.
At last Bishop Hatto appointed a day To quiet the poor without delay; He bade them to his great barn repair, And they should have food for the winter there.
Rejoiced such tidings good to hear, The poor folk flocked from far and near; The great barn was full as it could hold Of women and children, and young and old.
Then, when he saw it could hold no more, Bishop Hatto he made fast the door; And, while for mercy on Christ they call, He set fire to the barn, and burnt them all.
”I' faith, 'tis an excellent bonfire!” quoth he; ”And the country is greatly obliged to me For ridding it, in these times forlorn, Of rats that only consume the corn.”
So then to his palace returned he, And he sat down to supper merrily, And he slept that night like an innocent man; But Bishop Hatto never slept again.
In the morning, as he entered the hall, Where his picture hung against the wall, A sweat like death all over him came, For the rats had eaten it out of the frame.
As he looked, there came a man from his farm,-- He had a countenance white with alarm: ”My Lord, I opened your granaries this morn, And the rats had eaten all your corn.”
Another came running presently, And he was pale as pale could be.
”Fly! my Lord Bishop, fly!” quoth he, ”Ten thousand rats are coming this way,-- The Lord forgive you for yesterday!”
”I'll go to my tower in the Rhine,” replied he; ”'Tis the safest place in Germany,-- The walls are high, and the sh.o.r.es are steep, And the tide is strong, and the water deep.”
Bishop Hatto fearfully hastened away, And he crossed the Rhine without delay, And reached his tower, and barred with care All the windows, and doors, and loop-holes there.
He laid him down and closed his eyes, But soon a scream made him arise; He started, and saw two eyes of flame On his pillow, from whence the screaming came.
He listened and looked,--it was only the cat; But the Bishop he grew more fearful for that, For she sat screaming, mad with fear, At the army of rats that were drawing near.
For they have swum over the river so deep, And they have climbed the sh.o.r.es so steep, And now by thousands up they crawl To the holes and the windows in the wall.
Down on his knees the Bishop fell, And faster and faster his beads did he tell, As louder and louder, drawing near, The saw of their teeth without he could hear.
And in at the windows, and in at the door, And through the walls by thousands they pour; And down from the ceiling and up through the floor, From the right and the left, from behind and before, From within and without, from above and below,-- And all at once to the Bishop they go.
They have whetted their teeth against the stones, And now they pick the Bishop's bones; They gnawed the flesh from every limb, For they were sent to do judgment on him!
Robert Southey [1774-1843]
THE PIED PIPER OF HAMELIN A Child's Story
I Hamelin Town's in Brunswick, By famous Hanover city; The river Weser, deep and wide, Washes its wall on the southern side; A pleasanter spot you never spied; But, when begins my ditty, Almost five hundred years ago, To see the townsfolk suffer so From vermin was a pity.
II Rats!
They fought the dogs and killed the cats, And bit the babies in the cradles, And ate the cheeses out of the vats, And licked the soup from the cooks' own ladles, Split open the kegs of salted sprats, Made nests inside men's Sunday hats, And even spoiled the women's chats By drowning their speaking With shrieking and squeaking In fifty different sharps and flats.
III At last the people in a body To the Town Hall came flocking: ”'Tis clear,” cried they, ”our Mayor's a noddy; And as for our Corporation,--shocking To think we buy gowns lined with ermine For dolts that can't or won't determine What's best to rid us of our vermin!
You hope, because you're old and obese, To find in the furry civic robe ease?
Rouse up, sirs! Give your brains a racking, To find the remedy we're lacking, Or, sure as fate, we'll send you packing!”
At this the Mayor and Corporation Quaked with a mighty consternation.
IV An hour they sat in council,-- At length the Mayor broke silence: ”For a guilder I'd my ermine gown sell; I wish I were a mile hence!
It's easy to bid one rack one's brain,-- I'm sure my poor head aches again, I've scratched it so, and all in vain.
Oh for a trap, a trap, a trap!”
Just as he said this, what should hap At the chamber-door but a gentle tap?
”Bless us,” cried the Mayor, ”what's that?”