Their cellar's biggest butt with Rhe ish. Beside,' quoth the Mayor, with a knowing wink, So, friend, we're not the folks to shrink From the duty of giving you something to drink, Of them, as you very well know, was in joke; Σ. The piper's face fell, and he cried: Of the head-cook's pottage, all he's rich in, ΧΙ. '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 threaten us, fellow? Do your worst; Blow your pipe there till you burst!' XII. Once more he stept into the street; And to his lips again Laid his long pipe of smooth straight cane. Never gave the enraptured air), There was a rustling, that seemed like a bustling 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 To the children merrily skipping by But how the Mayor was on the rack, 'He never can cross that mighty top! When lo! as they reached the mountain's side, 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: 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, 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 I' Alas, alas for Hamelin! XIV. There came into many a burgher's pate As the needle's eye takes a camel in ! Wherever it was men's lot to find him, And bring the children all behind him. 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, To shock with mirth a street so solemn; They wrote the story on a column, That in Transylvania there's a tribe The outlandish ways and dress, On which their neighbours 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, 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 trammels, but forgot the crowd We would have taught, still groaned beneath the load: 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, The tree-tops all together! like an asp The wind slips whispering from bough to bough. And why this world, this common world, to be To some fine life to come? Man must be fed With angels' food, forsooth; and some few traces Through his corporeal baseness, warrant him For his inferior tastes-some straggling marks 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, See morn at length. The heavy darkness seems Diluted; gray and clear without the stars; The shrubs bestir and rouse themselves, as if Some snake, that weighed them down all night, let go But clouded, wintry, desolate and cold: Yet see how that broad, prickly, star-shaped plant, All thick and glistering with diamond dew. And you depart for Einsiedlen to-day. And we have spent all night in talk like this! From My last Duchess.' That's my last Duchess painted on the wall, I call That piece a wonder, now: Fra Pandolf's hands Of joy into the Duchess cheek, perhaps Half flush that dies along her throat;' such stuff A heart-how shall I say ?-too soon made glad, Or blush, at least. She thanked men-good; but thanked My gift of a nine hundred years old name COVENTRY PATMORE-EDWARD ROBERT, LORD LYTTON. The delineation of married love and the domestic affections has been attempted by MR. COVENTRY PAIMORE, 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 1853, 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 has 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: |