Their cellar's biggest butt with Rhe ish.
To pay this sum to a wandering fellow
With a gipsy 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 to 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 1
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 accepted the prime
Of the head-cook's potlage, 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.'
XI.
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 ?
You tbreaten us, fellow? Do your worst;
Blow your pipe there till you buret!
XII.
Once more he stept into the street;
And to his lips again
Laid his long pipe of smooth straight cano,
And ere he blew three notes (such swcet
Soft potes as yet musicians cunning
Never gave the enraptured air),
There was a rustling, that seemed like a bustling
Of merry crowds justling, at pitching and bustling,
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 corls,
And sparkling eves and teeth like pearls,
Tripping and skipping, ran merrily after
The wonderful music with shouting and laughter.
XIII.
The Mayor was dumb, and the Connci) stood
As if they were changed into blocks of wood,
Unable to move a sten. or cry
To the children merrily skipping by
And 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 bokoms beat,
As tbc 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 bis steps addressed,
And after him the children pressed ;
Great was the joy in every breast.
• He never can cross that mighty top!
He 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 followed,
And when all were in to the very last,
The door in the mountain-side shut fast.
Did I say all? Nol 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 doll 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 peacocks here, And their dogs outran our fallow deer, And honey-bees had lost their stings; And horses were born with eagle's 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 1'
XIV.
Alas, alag 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, porth, and south,
To offer the Piper by word of month.
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 all behind bim.
But when they saw 'twas a lost endeavour,
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 aud seventy-six:
And the better in memory to fix
The place of the children's la-t retreat,
They called it, the Pied Piper's street-
Where any one playing ou pipe or tabor,
Was sure for th: future to lose his labour.
Nor suffered they hostlery or tav rn
To shock with mirth a striet 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 inake 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 n-ighbours 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 dou't understand.
XV.
So, Willy, let you and me be wipers
Of scores out with all meu-especially pipers.
And, whether they pipe us free from rats or from mice,
If we've promised them aught, let us keep our promise.
A Parting Scene (1526 A. D.).
PARACELSUS and FESTUS.
Par. And you saw Luther ?
FEST. Tis a wondrous soul!
Par. True: the so-heavy chain which galled mankind
Is shattered, and the noblest of us all
Must bow to the deliverer-nay the worker
Of our own project--we who long before
Had burst our trainmels, but forgot the crowd
We would have taught, still groaned beneath the load :
This he has done avd nobly. Speed that may !
Whatever be my chance or my mischance,
What benefits mankind must glad me too:
And men seem made, though not as I believed,
For something better than the times display:
Witness these gangs of peasants your pew lights
From Suabia have possessed, whóm Münzer leads,
And whom the Duke, t'e Landgrave, and the Elector
Will calm in blood! Well, well—'lis not my world !
FEST. Hark!
PAR. 'Tis the melancholy wind astir
Within the trees; the embers too are gray;
Morn must be near.
FEST. Best ope the casement. See.
The night, late strewn with clouds and flying stars,
Is blank and motionless: how peaceful sleep
The tree-tops all together! like an asp
The wind slips whispering from bough to bough.
Par. Ay; you would gaze on a wind-shaken tree
By the hour, nor count ume lost.
FEST. So you shali gaze.
Those happy times will come agaiu.
PAR. Goue! goue!
Those pleasant times! Does not the moaning wind
Seem to bewail that we have gained such gains
And bartered sleep for them?
FEST. It is our trust
That there is yet another world, to mend
All error and in schauc...
Par. Another world!
And why this world, this common world, to be
A make-shift, a mi re foil, how lair soever,
To some five life to come! Man must be fed
With angels' food, forsooth; and some few traces
Ot a diviner nature which look out
Through his corporeal baseness, warrant him
In a supreme conteinpt for all provision
For bis inferior tastes—some straggling marks
Which constitute bis essence, just as truly
As here and there a gem would constitute
The rock, their barren bed, a diamond.
but were it so—were man all mind-be gains
A station little enviable. From God
Down to the lowest spirit ministrat,
Intelligence exists which casts our mind
Into immeasurable shade. No. no:
Love, hope, fear, faith—these make humanity,
These are its sign, and note, and character;
And these I have lost !-goue, shut from me for ever,
Like a dead friend, safe from unkindness more !
See morn at length. The heavy darkness seems
Diluted ; gray and clear without the stars;
The shrubs bestir and ronse themselves, as if
Some snake, that weighed them down all night, let go
His bold; and from the east, fuller and fuller,
Day, like a mighty river, is flowing in;
But clouded, wintry, desolate and cold':
Yet see how that broad, prickly, star-shaped plant,
Half down the crevice, spreads its woolly leaves
All thick and glistering with diamond dew.-
And you depart for Einsiedlen to-day.
And we have spent all night in talk like this!
If you would have me better for your love,
Revert no inore to these sad ti cines
From · My last Michess.'
That's my last Duchess painted on the wall,
Looking as if she were alive I call
That piece a wonder, now: Fra Pandolf's hands
Worked husily a day, and there she stande.
Will 't please you sit and look at her? I said
* Fra Pandolf' hy design. for never read
Strangers like yon that pictured countenance,
The depth and passion of its earnest glance.
But to '
myarif they turned (since none puts hy
The curtain I have drawn for you bnt I),
And seemed as they wond ask me, if they dorst,
How such a glance came there so not the first
Are yon to turn and ask thng. Sir. 'twas not
Her husband's presence only, called that spot
Qf joy into the Duches cheek, pentaps
Fra Pendolf chanced to say "Her maŋlle laps
Over my lady's wrisi loo mucu,' ur, Patht
Must vever bope to reproduce the faint
Half flush thai dies along her throat ;' such stuff
Was courtesy, she thought, and cause enough
For calling up that spot of joy. She had
A heart-how shall I say ?-100 goou made glad,
Too easily impressed ; she liked wbate'er
She looked on, and her looks went everywhere.
Sir, 'twas all one! My favour at her breast,
The dropping of the daylight in the west,
The bough of cherries some oflicious fool
Broke in the orchard for her, the white mule
She rode with round the terrace-all and each
Would draw from ber alike the approving speech,
Or blush, at least. She wavked
mood; but thanked
Somehow-I know not how-as if ele ranked
My gift of a pine hundred years old name
With anybody's gift. Who'd stoop 10 blame
This sort of trifling? COVENTRY PATMORE-EDWARD ROBERT, LORD LITTON. The delineation of married love and the domestic affections bas been attempted by MR. COVENTRY FAIMORE, who has deservedly gained reputation from the sweetness and quiet Leauty of his verse. His first work was a volume of Poems,' 1844. This was republished with large additions in 1863, under the title of : Tamerton Church Tower, and other Poems.' He then produced his most important work, The Angel in the House,' in four parts, The Betrothal, 1854; · The Espousal,' 1856; Faithful for Ever,' 1860; and “The Victories of Love,' 1862. Mr. Faimore bas also edited a volume of poetical selections, The Children's Garland, from the Best Poets,' 1862. •The Angel in the House' contains passages of great beauty, both in sentiment and description. Mr. Ruskin has eulogised it as 'a most finished piece of writing.' Its occasional felicities of expression are seen in verses like these: A girl of fnllest hrast she was;
And in the maiden path che trod
Her spirit's lovely flame
Fair was the wife foreshewn-
Nor dazzled por surprised, because A Mary in the house of God,
It always burned the same.
A Martha in her own.
And in this simile:
Her soft voice, singularly heard
Beside me, in the Psalms, withstood
The roar of voices, like a bi d
Sole warbling in a windy wood.
The Joyful Wirdom.
Would Wisdom for herself be wooed, What's that which Heaven to man en-
And wake the foolish from his dream,
dears, She must be glad as well as good.
And that which eyes no rooner see And most not only be, bpt seem. That the heart says, with floods of tears, Beauty and joy are here by right;
*Ab! that's the thing wbich I would Ani, kn is. I wonder legg That she's so scorned. when falsely dight Not childhood. full of fears and fret; lo misery and ugliness.
Not youth, impatient to disowa,
|