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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 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'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? 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,
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 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!'

The Mayor sent east, west, north, and south
To offer the Piper by word of mouth,
Wherever it was man'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 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 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 Street Where any one playing on pipe or tabor, Was sure for the future to lose his labour. 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, that ascribe

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 ago in a mighty band,

Out of Hamelin town in Brunswick land,
But how or why, they don't understand.

So Willy, let you and me be wipers

Of scores out with all men, - especially pipers,
And whether they pipe us free from rats or from mice
If we 've promised them aught, let us keep our promise.
R. Browning

TIG

LXXIX

THE TIGER

IGER, tiger, burning bright
In the forest of the night!
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?

In what distant deeps or skies
Burnt the ardour of thine eyes?
On what wings dare he aspire-
What the hand dare seize the fire?

And what shoulder, and what art
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?

And when thy heart began to beat,

What dread hand form'd thy dread feet?

What the hammer, what the chain,

In what furnace was thy brain?

Did God smile his work to see?

Did He who made the lamb make thee?

W. Blake

LXXX

KING JOHN AND THE ABBOT OF
CANTERBURY

N ancient story I'll tell you anon

AN

Of a notable prince, that was called King John; And he ruled England with main and with might, For he did great wrong and maintain❜d little right.

And I'll tell you a story, a story so merry,
Concerning the Abbot of Canterbury;
How for his housekeeping and high renown,
They rode post for him to fair London town.

An hundred men, the king did hear say,
The Abbot kept in his house every day;
And fifty gold chains, without any doubt,
In velvet coats waited the Abbot about.

'How now, father Abbot, I hear it of thee,
Thou keepest a far better house than me;
And for thy housekeeping and high renown,
I fear thou work'st treason against my crown.'

'My liege,' quoth the Abbot, "I would it were known
I never spend nothing but what is my own;
And I trust your grace will do me no deere
For spending of my own true gotten geere.'

Yes, yes, father Abbot, thy fault it is high,
And now for the same thou needest must die;
For except thou canst answer me questions three,
Thy head shall be smitten from thy bodie.

'And first,' quoth the king, 'when I'm in this stead, With my crown of gold so fair on my head,

Among all my liege-men so noble of birth,
Thou must tell me to one penny what I am worth.

'Secondly tell me, without any doubt,

How soon I may ride the whole world about;
And at the third question thou must not shrink,
But tell me here truly what I do think.'

'O these are hard questions for my shallow wit,
Nor I cannot answer your Grace as yet;
But if you will give me but three weeks space,
I'll do my endeavour to answer your Grace.'

'Now three weeks space to thee will I give,
And that is the longest time thou hast to live;
For if thou dost not answer my questions three,
Thy lands and thy livings are forfeit to me.'

Away rode the Abbot all sad at that word,
And he rode to Cambridge and Oxenford;
But never a doctor there was so wise,

That could with his learning an answer devise.

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