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With all the sensitive tight strings
Which dare not speak, now to itself
Breathes slumberously, as if some elf

Went in and out the chords, his wings
Make murmur wheresoe'er they graze,
As an angel may, between the maze
Of midnight palace-pillars, on
And on, to sow God's plagues, have gone
Through guilty glorious Babylon.
And while such murmurs flow, the
nymph

Bends o'er the harp-top from her shell
As the dry limpet for the lymph
Come with a tune he knows so well.
And how your statues' hearts must
swell!

And how your pictures must descend
To see each other, friend with friend!
Oh, could you take them by surprise,
You'd find Schidone's eager Duke
Doing the quaintest courtesies

To that prim saint by Haste-thee-Luke!
And, deeper into her rock den,
Bold Castelfranco's Magdalen
You'd find retreated from the ken
Of that robed counsel-keeping Ser-
As if the Tizian thinks of her,
And is not, rather, gravely bent
On seeing for himself what toys
Are these, his progeny invent,
What litter now the board employs
Whereon he signed a document
That got him murdered! Each enjoys
Its night so well, you cannot break
The sport up, so, indeed must make
More stay with me, for others' sake.

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The lady with the colder breast than

snow.

Now bow you, as becomes, nor touch my hand

More than I touch yours when I step to land, And say,

"All thanks, Siora!"

Heart to heart And lips to lips! Yet once more, ere we part,

Clasp me and make me thine, as mine thou art!

[He is surprised, and stabbed. It was ordained to be so, sweet!-and best

Comes now, beneath thine eyes, upon thy breast.

Still kiss me! Care not for the cowards!

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III

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!

99

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?"

(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!"

V

"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!"

VI

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,
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 check;

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,

66

poor piper as I am, In Tartary I freed the Cham, Last June, from his huge swarms of

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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 advanc-
ing,

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 he, the manuscript he cherished)
To Rat-land home his commentary:
Which was,
At the first shrill notes of
the pipe,

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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,

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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 passion
May find me pipe after another fashion.”

XI

"How?" cried the Mayor, "d'ye think I 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 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 hustling;

Small feet were pattering, wooden shoes clattering,

Little hands clapping and little tongues chattering,

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
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.
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 daugh-
ters !

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,-

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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 pea-
cocks 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 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!"

XIV

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 StreetWhere 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 who ascribe
The outlandish ways and dress

On which their neighbors lay such stress, To their fathers and mothers having risen

Out of some subterraneous 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.

XV

So, Willy, let me and you be wipers Of scores out with all men-especially pipers!

And, whether they pipe us free from rats or fróm mice,

If we've promised them aught, let us keep our promise! 1842.

RUDEL TO THE LADY OF TRIPOLI

I KNOW a Mount, the gracious Sun perceives

First, when he visits, last, too, when he leaves

The world; and, vainly favored, it repays The day-long glory of his steadfast gaze By no change of its large calm front of

snow.

And underneath the Mount, a Flower I know,

He cannot have perceived, that changes

ever

At his approach; and, in the lost endeavor

To live his life, has parted, one by one, With all a flower's true graces, for the grace

Of being but a foolish mimic sun, With ray-like florets round a disk-like face.

Men nobly call by many a name the Mount

As over many a land of theirs its large Calm front of snow like a triumphal

targe

Is reared, and still with old names, fresh names vie,

Each to its proper praise and own account:

Men call the Flower the Sunflower, sportively.

II

Oh, Angel of the East, one, one gold look Across the waters to this twilight nook, -The far sad waters, Angel, to this nook!

III

Dear Pilgrim, art thou for the East indeed?

Go!-saying ever as thou dost proceed, That I, French Rudel, choose for my device

A sunflower outspread like a sacrifice Before its idol. See! These inexpert And hurried fingers could not fail to hurt

The woven picture; 't is a woman's skill Indeed; but nothing baffled me, so, ill Or well, the work is finished. Say, men feed

On songs I sing, and therefore bask the bees

On my flower's breast as on a platform broad:

But as the flower's concern is not for these

But solely for the sun, so men applaud In vain this Rudel, he not looking here But to the East-the East! Go, say this, Pilgrim dear! 1842.

THERE'S A WOMAN LIKE A DEWDROP

[FROM A BLOT IN THE SCUTCHEON] THERE's a woman like a dewdrop, she's so purer than the purest; And her noble heart 's the noblest, yes, and her sure faith's the surest: And her eyes are dark and humid, like the depth on depth of lustre Hid i' the harebell, while her tresses, sunnier than the wild-grape cluster, Gush in golden-tinted plenty down her neck's rose-misted marble:

Then her voice's music . . . call it the

well's bubbling, the bird's warble! And this woman says, "My days were sunless and my nights were moonless,

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