The Pied Piper of Hamelin, and Other Poems. Robert Browning

      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.

      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.

      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.

      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?”

      (With the Corporation as he sat,

      Looking little though wondrous fat;

      Nor brighter was his eye, nor moister

      Than a too-long-opened oyster,

      Save when at noon his paunch grew mutinous

      For a plate of turtle green and glutinous)

      “Only a scraping of shoes on the mat?

      Anything like the sound of a rat

      Makes my heart go pit-a-pat!”

      “Come in!” – the Mayor cried, looking bigger:

      And in did come the strangest figure!

      His queer long coat from heel to head

      Was half of yellow and half of red,

      And he himself was tall and thin,

      With sharp blue eyes, each like a pin,

      And light loose hair, yet swarthy skin,

      No tuft on cheek nor beard on chin,

      But lips where smiles went out and in;

      There was no guessing his kith and kin:

      And nobody could enough admire

      The tall man and his quaint attire.

      Quoth one: “It’s as my great-grandsire,

      Starting up at the Trump of Doom’s tone,

      Had walked this way from his painted tombstone!”

      He advanced to the council-table:

      And, “Please your honours,” said he, “I’m able,

      By means of a secret charm, to draw

      All creatures living beneath the sun,

      That creep or swim or fly or run,

      After me so as you never saw!

      And I chiefly use my charm

      On creatures that do people harm,

      The mole and toad and newt and viper;

      And people call me the Pied Piper.”

      (And here they noticed round his neck

      A scarf of red and yellow stripe,

      To match with his coat of the self-same cheque;

      And at the scarf’s end hung a pipe;

      And his fingers, they noticed, were ever straying

      As if impatient to be playing

      Upon this pipe, as low it dangled

      Over his vesture so old-fangled.)

      “Yet,” said he, “poor piper as I am,

      In Tartary I freed the Cham,

      Last June, from his huge swarms of gnats;

      I eased in Asia the Nizam

      Of a monstrous brood of vampire-bats:

      And as for what your brain bewilders,

      If I can rid your town of rats

      Will you give me a thousand guilders?”

      “One? fifty thousand!” – was the exclamation

      Of the astonished Mayor and Corporation.

      Into the street the Piper stept,

      Smiling first a little smile,

      As if he knew what magic slept

      In his quiet pipe the while;

      Then, like a musical adept,

      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 ere 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.

      Great rats, small rats, lean rats, brawny rats

      Brown rats, black rats, gray rats, tawny rats

      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

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