Brownings Shorter Poems | Page 8

huge swarms of gnats;
90
I eased in Asia the Nizam°
°91


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.
VII
Into the street the Piper stept,
Smiling first a little smile,
As if he
knew what magic slept 100 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. 110 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,
120 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,
I heard a sound as of scraping tripe,
And putting apples,
wondrous ripe,
Into a cider press's gripe; 130 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, 'Oh, rats, rejoice!

The world
is grown to one vast drysaltery!
So munch on, crunch on, take your
nuncheon,
Breakfast, supper, dinner, luncheon!' 140 And just as a
bulky sugar-puncheon,
Already 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."

VIII
You should have heard the Hamelin people
Ringing the bells till they
rocked the steeple.
"Go," cried the Mayor, "and get long poles,

Poke out the nests and block up the holes!
Consult with carpenters
and builders, 150 And leave in our town, not even a trace
Of the
rats!"--when suddenly, up the face
Of the Piper perked in the
market-place,
With a, "First, if you please, my thousand guilders!"
IX
A thousand guilders! The Mayor looked blue;
So did the Corporation,
too.
For council dinners made rare havoc
With Claret,° Moselle,°
Vin-de-Grave,° Hock°; °158 And half the money would replenish

Their cellar's biggest butt with Rhenish°. °160 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 170 Of them, as you very well know, was in joke.
Beside, our
losses have made us thrifty.
A thousand guilders! Come, take fifty!"
X
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,
°179
Of a nest of scorpions no survivor:
180

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!" 190
XII
Once more he stept 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