And everything was strange and new; I. Hamelin Town's in Brunswick, By famous Hanover city; The river Weser, deep and wide, ... And people call me the Pied Piper." The same, to make the world acquainted Baghdad, and accept the prime Give your brains a racking We saw with our eyes the vermin sink, The world is grown to one vast dry-saltery! There came into many a burgher's pate Makes my heart go pit-a-pat!" I wish I were a mile hence! Great rats, small rats, lean rats, brawny rats, As if impatient to be playing If, after the day of the month and year, All creatures living beneath the sun, And a drawing the corks of train-oil-flasks, VIII. "https://secure." "For a guilder I'd my ermine gown sell, "Only a scraping of shoes on the mat? IV. ‹Save one who, stout as Julius Caesar, To the children merrily skipping by-- He's forced to let the piping drop Of a monstrous brood of vampyre-bats: And when all were in to the very last, Anything like the sound of a rat It's easy to bid one rack one's brain-- If you don’t already know the legend of the Pied Piper, it is a great one to look up and find out about. Was half of yellow and half of red I can't forget that I'm bereft And sparkling eyes and teeth like pearls, The Piper's face fell, and he cried, Of a nest of scorpions no survivor-- II. And horses were born with eagles' wings: And on the great church-window painted Edgar Allan Poe, TOPICS childrenlegendmagicRobert Browningrodents. To the outlandish ways and dress Which was, "At the first shrill notes of the pipe, And light loose hair, yet swarthy skin, And a moving away of pickle-tub-boards, And honey-bees had lost their stings, And ate the cheeses out of the vats, At length the Mayor broke silence: And could not dance the whole of the way; -- when suddenly, up the face Right in the way of their sons and daughters! And out of the houses the rats came tumbling. VI. In fifty different sharps and flats. Hamelin was a prosperous town. And Piper and dancers were gone forever, You should have heard the Hamelin people cried the Mayor, "d'ye think I brook. And the grumbling grew to a mighty rumbling; It was a port town on the River Weser. V. There was a rustling that seemed like a bustling var sc_project=729159; As if a cavern was suddenly hollowed; Fathers, mothers, uncles, cousins, And ere three shrill notes the pipe uttered, Over his vesture so old-fangled.) Consult with carpenters and builders So munch on, crunch on, take your nuncheon, Is breathed) called out, 'Oh rats, rejoice! I. Go to Page 2 to continue listening to the poem, Robert Browning Contemporaries [Ambrose Bierce, The Devil's Dictionary, 1911] And a leaving ajar of conserve-cupboards, A pleasanter spot you never spied; (And here they noticed round his neck 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 Upon this pipe, as low it dangled Over his vesture so old-fangled.) Wherever it was men's lot to find him, Into a cider-press's gripe: With a, "First, if you please, my thousand guilders!" But how the Mayor was on the rack In his quiet pipe the while; Left alone against my will, And it seemed as if a voice With you, don't think I'll bate a stiver! "Yet," said he, "poor piper as I am, And their dogs outran our fallow deer, And bring the children behind him. Or, sure as fate, we'll send you packing!" And people call me the Pied Piper.'' Wherein all plunged and perished! Where any one playing on pipe or tabor After me so as you never saw! Longfellow To see the townsfolk suffer so With rosy cheeks and flaxen curls, Of the astonished Mayor and Corporation. And nobody could enough admire Will you give me a thousand guilders?" To their fathers and mothers having risen No! With Claret, Moselle, Vin-de-Grave, Hock; Of the Piper perked in the market-place, An hour they sat in council, Fifty thousand!" Great was the joy in every breast. By famous Hanover city; So, friend, we're not the folks to shrink Which the Piper also promised me. Grave old plodders, gay young friskers, Opens to the rich at as easy rate "Bless us,' cried the Mayor, "what's that?" "How?" And leave in our town not even a trace For a plate of turtle, green and glutinous) How their children were stolen away, And putting apples, wondrous ripe, If he'd only return the way he went, document.write("
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