Poem 62 - 100 days of poetry
\nhttps:\/\/soundcloud.com\/rob-goll\/the-pied-piper-of-hamelin-poem-by-robert-browning
\nI
\nHamelin Town\u2019s in Brunswick,
\nBy famous Hanover city;
\nThe river Weser, deep and wide,
\nWashes its wall on the southern side;
\nA pleasanter spot you never spied;
\nBut, when begins my ditty,
\nAlmost five hundred years ago,
\nTo see the townsfolk suffer so
\nFrom vermin, was a pity.<\/p>\n
II<\/p>\n
Rats!
\nThey fought the dogs and killed the cats,
\nAnd bit the babies in the cradles,
\nAnd ate the cheeses out of the vats,
\nAnd licked the soup from the cooks\u2019 own ladle\u2019s,
\nSplit open the kegs of salted sprats,
\nMade nests inside men\u2019s Sunday hats,
\nAnd even spoiled the women\u2019s chats
\nBy drowning their speaking
\nWith shrieking and squeaking
\nIn fifty different sharps and flats.<\/p>\n
III<\/p>\n
At last the people in a body
\nTo the town hall came flocking:
\n\"\u2018Tis clear,\" cried they, \u2018our Mayor\u2019s a noddy;
\nAnd as for our Corporation--shocking
\nTo think we buy gowns lined with ermine
\nFor dolts that can\u2019t or won\u2019t determine
\nWhat\u2019s best to rid us of our vermin!
\nYou hope, because you\u2019re old and obese,
\nTo find in the furry civic robe ease?
\nRouse up, sirs! Give your brains a racking
\nTo find the remedy we\u2019re lacking,
\nOr, sure as fate, we\u2019ll send you packing!\u201d
\nAt this the Mayor and Corporation
\nQuaked with a mighty consternation.<\/p>\n
IV<\/p>\n
An hour they sat in council,
\nAt length the Mayor broke silence:
\n\u201cFor a guilder I\u2019d my ermine gown sell,
\nI wish I were a mile hence!
\nIt\u2019s easy to bid one rack one\u2019s brain--
\nI\u2019m sure my poor head aches again,
\nI\u2019ve scratched it so, and all in vain
\nOh for a trap, a trap, a trap!\u201d
\nJust as he said this, what should hap
\nAt the chamber door but a gentle tap?
\n\u201cBless us,' cried the Mayor, \u201cwhat\u2019s that?\u201d
\n(With the Corporation as he sat,
\nLooking little though wondrous fat;
\nNor brighter was his eye, nor moister
\nThan a too-long-opened oyster,
\nSave when at noon his paunch grew mutinous
\nFor a plate of turtle, green and glutinous)
\n\u201cOnly a scraping of shoes on the mat?
\nAnything like the sound of a rat
\nMakes my heart go pit-a-pat!\u201d<\/p>\n
V<\/p>\n
\u201cCome in!\u201d--the Mayor cried, looking bigger:
\nAnd in did come the strangest figure!
\nHis queer long coat from heel to head
\nWas half of yellow and half of red
\nAnd he himself was tall and thin,
\nWith sharp blue eyes, each like a pin,
\nAnd light loose hair, yet swarthy skin,
\nNo tuft on cheek nor beard on chin,
\nBut lips where smiles went out and in--
\nThere was no guessing his kith and kin!
\nAnd nobody could enough admire
\nThe tall man and his quaint attire.
\nQuoth one: \u201cIt\u2019s as if my great-grandsire,
\nStarting up at the Trump of Doom\u2019s tone,
\nHad walked this way from his painted tombstone!\u201d<\/p>\n
VI<\/p>\n
He advanced to the council-table:
\nAnd, \u201cPlease your honors,\" said he, \u201cI\u2019m able,
\nBy means of a secret charm, to draw
\nAll creatures living beneath the sun,
\nThat creep or swim or fly or run,
\nAfter me so as you never saw!
\nAnd I chiefly use my charm
\nOn creatures that do people harm,
\nThe mole and toad and newt and viper;
\nAnd people call me the Pied Piper.\u201d
\n(And here they noticed round his neck
\nA scarf of red and yellow stripe,
\nTo match with his coat of the self-same check;
\nAnd at the scarf\u2019s end hung a pipe;
\nAnd his fingers, they noticed, were ever straying
\nAs if impatient to be playing
\nUpon this pipe, as low it dangled
\nOver his vesture so old-fangled.)
\n\u201cYet,\" said he, \u201cpoor piper as I am,
\nIn Tartary I freed the Cham,
\nLast June, from his huge swarm of gnats;
\nI eased in Asia the Nizam
\nOf a monstrous brood of vampyre-bats:
\nAnd as for what your brain bewilders--
\nIf I can rid your town of rats
\nWill you give me a thousand guilders?\u201d
\n\u201cOne? Fifty thousand!\u201d was the exclamation
\nOf the astonished Mayor and Corporation.<\/p>\n
VII<\/p>\n
Into the street the Piper stept,
\nSmiling first a little smile,
\nAs if he knew what magic slept
\nIn his quiet pipe the while;
\nThen, like a musical adept,
\nTo blow the pipe his lips he wrinkled,
\nAnd green and blue his sharp eyes twinkled,
\nLike a candle-flame where salt is sprinkled;
\nAnd ere three shrill notes the pipe uttered,
\nYou heard as if an army muttered;
\nAnd the muttering grew to a grumbling;
\nAnd the grumbling grew to a mighty rumbling;
\nAnd out of the houses the rats came tumbling.
\nGreat rats, small rats, lean rats, brawny rats,
\nBrown rats, black rats, gray rats, tawny rats,
\nGrave old plodders, gay young friskers,
\nFathers, mothers, uncles, cousins,
\nCocking tails and pricking whiskers,
\nFamilies by tens and dozens,
\nBrothers, sisters, husbands, wives--
\nFollowed the Piper for their lives.
\nFrom street to street he piped advancing,
\nAnd step for step they followed dancing,
\nUntil they came to the river Weser
\nWherein all plunged and perished!
\n\u2039Save one who, stout as Julius Caesar,
\nSwam across and lived to carry
\n(As the manuscript he cherished)
\nTo Rat-land home his commentary:
\nWhich was, \u201cAt the first shrill notes of the pipe,
\nI heard a sound as of scraping tripe,
\nAnd putting apples, wondrous ripe,
\nInto a cider-press\u2019s gripe:
\nAnd a moving away of pickle-tub-boards,
\nAnd a leaving ajar of conserve-cupboards,
\nAnd a drawing the corks of train-oil-flasks,
\nAnd a breaking the hoops of butter-casks:
\nAnd it seemed as if a voice
\n(Sweeter far than by harp or by psaltery
\nIs breathed) called out, \u2018Oh rats, rejoice!
\nThe world is grown to one vast dry-saltery!
\nSo munch on, crunch on, take your nuncheon,
\nBreakfast, supper, dinner, luncheon!'
\nAnd just as a bulky sugar-puncheon,
\nAll ready staved, like a great sun shone
\nGlorious scarce an inch before me,
\nJust as methought it said \u2018Come bore me!'
\n-- I found the Weser rolling o\u2019er me.\u201d<\/p>\n
VIII<\/p>\n
You should have heard the Hamelin people
\nRinging the bells till they rocked the steeple.
\nGo,\" cried the Mayor, \u201cand get long poles!
\nPoke out the nests and block up the holes!
\nConsult with carpenters and builders
\nAnd leave in our town not even a trace
\nOf the rats!\u201d-- when suddenly, up the face
\nOf the Piper perked in the market-place,
\nWith a, \u201cFirst, if you please, my thousand guilders!\u201d<\/p>\n
IX<\/p>\n
A thousand guilders! The Mayor looked blue;
\nSo did the Corporation too.
\nFor council dinners made rare havoc
\nWith Claret, Moselle, Vin-de-Grave, Hock;
\nAnd half the money would replenish
\nTheir cellar\u2019s biggest butt with Rhenish.
\nTo pay this sum to a wandering fellow
\nWith a gypsy coat of red and yellow!
\n\u201cBeside,\" quoth the Mayor with a knowing wink,
\n\u201cOur business was done at the river\u2019s brink;
\nWe saw with our eyes the vermin sink,
\nAnd what\u2019s dead can\u2019t come to life, I think.
\nSo, friend, we\u2019re not the folks to shrink
\nFrom the duty of giving you something for drink,
\nAnd a matter of money to put in your poke;
\nBut as for the guilders, what we spoke
\nOf them, as you very well know, was in joke.
\nBeside, our losses have made us thrifty.
\nA thousand guilders! Come, take fifty!<\/p>\n
X<\/p>\n
The Piper\u2019s face fell, and he cried,
\n\u201cNo trifling! I can\u2019t wait! Beside,
\nI\u2019ve promised to visit by dinnertime
\nBagdad, and accept the prime
\nOf the Head-Cook\u2019s pottage, all he\u2019s rich in,
\nFor having left, in the Caliph\u2019s kitchen,
\nOf a nest of scorpions no survivor--
\nWith him I proved no bargain-driver,
\nWith you, don\u2019t think I\u2019ll bate a stiver!
\nAnd folks who put me in a passion
\nMay find me pipe to another fashion.\u201d<\/p>\n
XI<\/p>\n
\u201cHow?\u201d cried the Mayor, \u201cd\u2019ye think I brook
\nBeing worse treated than a Cook?
\nInsulted by a lazy ribald
\nWith idle pipe and vesture piebald?
\nYou threaten us, fellow? Do your worst,
\nBlow your pipe there till you burst!\u201d<\/p>\n
XII<\/p>\n
Once more he stept into the street
\nAnd to his lips again
\nLaid his long pipe of smooth straight cane;
\nAnd ere he blew three notes (such sweet
\nSoft notes as yet musician\u2019s cunning
\nNever gave the enraptured air)
\nThere was a rustling that seemed like a bustling
\nOf merry crowds justling at pitching and hustling,
\nSmall feet were pattering, wooden shoes clattering,
\nLittle hands clapping, and little tongues chattering,
\nAnd, like fowls in a farm-yard when barley is scattering,
\nOut came the children running.
\nAll the little boys and girls,
\nWith rosy cheeks and flaxen curls,
\nAnd sparkling eyes and teeth like pearls,
\nTripping and skipping, ran merrily after
\nThe wonderful music with shouting and laughter.<\/p>\n
XIII<\/p>\n
The Mayor was dumb, and the Council stood
\nAs if they were changed into blocks of wood,
\nUnable to move a step or cry,
\nTo the children merrily skipping by--
\nAnd could only follow with the eye
\nThat joyous crowd at the Piper\u2019s back.
\nBut how the Mayor was on the rack
\nAnd the wretched Council\u2019s bosoms beat,
\nAs the Piper turned from the High Street
\nTo where the Weser rolled its water\u2019s
\nRight in the way of their sons and daughters!
\nHowever he turned from South to West
\nAnd to Koppelberg Hill his steps addressed,
\nAnd after him the children pressed;
\nGreat was the joy in every breast.
\n\u201cHe never can cross that mighty top!
\nHe\u2019s forced to let the piping drop
\nAnd we shall see our children stop!
\nWhen, lo, as they reached the mountain-side,
\nA wondrous portal opened wide,
\nAs if a cavern was suddenly hollowed;
\nAnd the Piper advanced and the children followed,
\nAnd when all were in to the very last,
\nThe door in the mountain-side shut fast.
\nDid I say all? No! One was lame,
\nAnd could not dance the whole of the way;
\nAnd in after years, if you would blame
\nHis sadness, he was used to say,--
\n\u201cIt\u2019s dull in our town since my playmates left!
\nI can\u2019t forget that I\u2019m bereft
\nOf all the pleasant sights they see,
\nWhich the Piper also promised me.
\nFor he led us, he said, to a joyous land,
\nJoining the town and just at hand,
\nWhere waters gushed and fruit-trees grew,
\nAnd flowers put forth a fairer hue,
\nAnd everything was strange and new;
\nThe sparrows were brighter than peacocks here,
\nAnd their dogs outran our fallow deer,
\nAnd honey-bees had lost their stings,
\nAnd horses were born with eagles\u2019 wings:
\nAnd just as I became assured
\nMy lame foot would be speedily cured,
\nThe music stopped and I stood still,
\nAnd found myself outside the hill,
\nLeft alone against my will,
\nTo go now limping as before,
\nAnd never hear of that country more!<\/p>\n
XIV<\/p>\n
Alas, alas for Hamelin!
\nThere came into many a burgher\u2019s pate
\nA text which says that heaven\u2019s gate
\nOpens to the rich at as easy rate
\nAs the needle\u2019s eye takes a camel in!
\nThe mayor sent East, West, North and South,
\nTo offer the Piper, by word of mouth
\nWherever it was men\u2019s lot to find him,
\nSilver and gold to his heart\u2019s content,
\nIf he\u2019d only return the way he went,
\nAnd bring the children behind him.
\nBut when they saw \u2018twas a lost endeavor,
\nAnd Piper and dancers were gone forever,
\nThey made a decree that lawyers never
\nShould think their records dated duly
\nIf, after the day of the month and year,
\nThese words did not as well appear:
\n\u201cAnd so long after what happened here
\nOn the twenty-second of July,
\nThirteen hundred and seventy-six;\"
\nAnd the better in memory to fix
\nThe place of the children\u2019s last retreat,
\nThey called it the Pied Piper\u2019s Street,
\nWhere any one playing on pipe or tabor
\nWas sure for the future to lose his labor.
\nNor suffered they hostelry or tavern
\nTo shock with mirth a street so solemn,
\nBut opposite the place of the cavern
\nThey wrote the story on a column,
\nAnd on the great church-window painted
\nThe same, to make the world acquainted
\nHow their children were stolen away,
\nAnd there it stands to this very day.
\nAnd I must not omit to say
\nThat, in Transylvania there\u2019s a tribe
\nOf alien people who ascribe
\nTo the outlandish ways and dress
\nOn which their neighbors lay such stress,
\nTo their fathers and mothers having risen
\nOut of some subterranean prison
\nInto which they were trepanned
\nLong time ago in a mighty band
\nOut of Hamelin town in Brunswick land,
\nBut how or why they don\u2019t understand.<\/p>\n
XV<\/p>\n
So, Willy, let you and me be wipers
\nOf scores out with all men--especially pipers!
\nAnd, whether they pipe us free, from rats or from mice,
\nIf we\u2019ve promised them ought, let us keep our promise.<\/p>\n