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?

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Rouse up, sirs! Give your brains a racking
To find the remedy we're lacking,

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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 council,

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At length the Mayor broke silence:
For a guilder I'd my ermine gown sell;
I wish I were a mile hence!

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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,

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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?'

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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,

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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,

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Had walked this way from his painted tombstone.'

He advanced to the council-table:

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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

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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

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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

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Of a monstrous brood of vampyre 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, grey 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

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ΠΙΟ

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(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,

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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, Oh! rats, rejoice!
The world is grown to one vast drysaltery!

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So munch on, crunch on, take your nuncheon,
Breakfast, supper, dinner, luncheon!

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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.'

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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,
And leave in our town not even a trace

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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!'

A thousand guilders! The Mayor looked blue;

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So did the Corporation too.

For council dinners made rare havock

With Claret, Moselle, Vin-de-Grave, Hock;

And half the money would replenish

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Their cellar's biggest butt with Rhenish.
To pay this sum to a wandering fellow
With a gipsy coat of red and yellow!

'Our business was done at the river's brink;

'Beside,' quoth the Mayor, with a knowing wink,

We saw with our eyes the vermin sink,

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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

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Of them, as you very well know, was in joke.
Beside, our losses have made us thrifty;
A thousand guilders! Come, take fifty!'

The Piper's face fell, and he cried,

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'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 to another fashion.'

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'How?' cried the Mayor, ‘d'ye think I'll brook Being worse treated than a Cook?

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Insulted by a lazy ribald

With idle pipe and vesture piebald?

You threaten us, fellow? Do your worst,

Soft notes as yet musician's cunning

Never gave the enraptured air),

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