With shapes and colors rife,
Bound dizzily-mistake my end, to slake Thy
So, take and use Thy work! Amend what flaws may lurk,
What strain o' the stuff, what warpings past the aim !
My times be in Thy hand!
Perfect the cup as planned!
A foolish thought, and worse, perhaps ! There must be many a pair of friends Who, arm in arm, deserve the warm Moon-births and the long evening-ends.
So, for their sakes, be May still May! Let their new time, as mine of old, Do all it did for me: I bid
Sweet sights and sounds throng manifold.
Let age approve of youth, and death complete Only, one little sight, one plant,
WHAT is he buzzing in my ears?
"Now that I come to die,
Do I view the world as a vale of tears?" Ah, reverend sir, not I!
What I viewed there once, what I view again, Where the physic-bottles stand
On the table's edge-is a suburb lane, With a wall to my bedside hand.
That lane sloped, much as the bottles do, From a house you could descry O'er the garden-wall: is the curtain blue Or green to a healthy eye?
To mine, it serves for the old June weather Blue above lane and wall;
And that farthest bottle labelled "Ether" Is the house o'ertopping all.
At a terrace, somewhat near its stopper, There watched for me, one June, A girl I know, sir, it 's improper, My poor mind's out of tune.
Only, there was a way, you crept Close by the side, to dodge Eyes in the house, two eyes except:
They styled their house "The Lodge."
What right had a lounger up their lane? But, by creeping very close,
With the good wall's help-their eyes might
And stretch themselves to Oes,
Yet never catch her and me together,
As she left the attic, there,
By the rim of the bottle labelled "Ether," And stole from stair to stair,
And stood by the rose-wreathed gate. Alas! We loved, sir-used to meet :
How sad and bad and mad it was- But then, how it was sweet!
Woods have in May, that starts up green Save a sole streak which, so to speak,
I WISH that when you died last May, Charles, there had died along with you Three parts of spring's delightful things; Ay, and, for me, the fourth part too.
Ir once might have been, once only: We lodged in a street together, You, a sparrow on the housetop lonely, I, a lone she-bird of his feather.
Your trade was with sticks and clay,
You thumbed, thrust, patted, and polished,
THE PIED PIPER OF HAMELIN.
What fancy was it, turned your brain? Oh, women were the prize for you! Money gets women, cards and dice
Get money, and ill-luck gets just The copper couch and one clear nice Cool squirt of water o'er your bust, The right thing to extinguish lust!
It's wiser being good than bad;
It's safer being meek than fierce: It's fitter being sane than mad.
My own hope is, a sun will pierce The thickest cloud earth ever stretched; That, after Last, returns the First. Though a wide compass round be fetched; That what began best, can't end worst, Nor what God blessed once, prove accurst.
THE PIED PIPER OF HAMELIN.
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.
They fought the dogs, and killed the cats, And bit the babies in the cradles,
And ate the cheeses out of the vats,
"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 tomb- stone!"
He advanced to the council-table:
And, "Please your honors," 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
And licked the soup from the cook's own la- The mole, and toad, and newt, and viper
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:
"'T is 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 sate in counsel
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?
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 check;
And at the scarf's end hung a pipe;
And his fingers, they noticed, were ever stray.
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 swarm 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 stepped, 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 their lives. From street to street he piped advancing, And step for step they followed dancing, Until they came to the river Weser Wherein all plunged and perished -Save one who, stout as Julius Cæsar, Swam across and lived to carry
(As-the manuscript he cherished)
To Rat-land home his commentary,
The piper's face fell, and he cried, "No trifling! I can't wait! beside, I've promised to visit by dinner-time Bagdat, 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 scorpion's 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 passion May find me pipe to another fashion."
"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?
Which was: "At the first shrill notes of the You threaten us, fellow? Do your worst,
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-flasks, And a breaking the hoops of butter-casks; 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! So munch on, crunch on, take your nuncheon, Breakfast, supper, dinner, luncheon! And just as a bulky sugar-puncheon, All ready staved, like a great sun shone Glorious, scarce an inch before me, Just as methought it said, Come, bore me! -I found the Weser rolling o'er me."
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 hus
Small feet were pattering, wooden shoes clatter
Little hands clapping, and little tongues chatter
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, Tripping and skipping, ran merrily after The wonderful music with shouting and laugh-
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- And could only follow with the eye
A thousand guilders! The Mayor looked blue; That joyous crowd at the Piper's back. 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 butt 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 in 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!"
But how 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's side, A wondrous portal opened wide,
As if a cavern was suddenly hollowed; And the Piper advanced and the children fol- lowed;
And when all were in, to the very last, The door in the mountain-side shut fast.
INCIDENT OF THE FRENCH CAMP.
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 every thing was strange and new;
Of scores out with all men-especially pipers; And, whether they pipe us free from rats or from mice,
If we've promised them aught, let us keep our promise.
INCIDENT OF THE FRENCH CAMP.
You know we French stormed Ratisbon: A mile or so away,
The sparrows were brighter than peacocks here, On a little mound, Napoleon
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 assured
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."
Alas, alas for Hamelin!
There came into many a burgher's pate A text which says, that heaven's gate Opes to the rich at as easy rate As the needle's eye takes a camel in! The Mayor sent east, west, north, and south, To offer the Piper by word of mouth,
Wherever it was men's lot to find him, Silver and gold to his heart's content, If he'd only return the way he went,
And bring the children behind him. But when they saw 't was a lost endeavor, And Piper and dancers were gone for ever, They made a decree that lawyers never
Should think their records dated duly If, after the day of the month and year, These words did not as well appear, "And so long after what happened here On the Twenty-second of July, Thirteen Hundred and Seventy-six: " And the better in memory to fix The place of the children's last retreat They called it the Pied Piper's Street- Where any one playing on pipe or tabor Was sure for the future to lose his labor. Nor suffered they hostelry or tavern
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
To their fathers and mothers having risen Out of some subterranean prison Into which they were trepanned, Long time ago, in a mighty band,
Out of Hamelin town in Brunswick land, But how or why, they don't understand. So, Willy, let you and me be wipers
Stood on our storming-day; With neck out-thrust, you fancy how, Legs wide, arms locked behind, As if to balance the prone brow, Oppressive with its mind.
Just as perhaps he mused, "My plans That soar, to earth may fall,
Let once my army-leader Lannes Waver at yonder wall,"-
Out 'twixt the battery-smokes there flew A rider, bound on bound Full-galloping; nor bridle drew
Until he reached the mound.
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