Sweet smiling village, loveliest of the lawn,
Thy sports are fled, and all thy charms withdrawn;
Amidst thy bowers the tyrant's hand is seen,
And desolation saddens all thy green :
One only master grasps the whole domain,
And half a tillage stints thy smiling plain;
No more thy glassy brook reflects the day,
But, choked with sedges, works its weedy way;
Along thy glades a solitary guest,

The hollow sounding bittern guards its nest;
Amidst thy desert walks the lapwing flies,
And tires their echoes with unvaried cries.
Sunk are thy bowers in shapeless ruin all,
And the long grass o'ertops the moldering wall;
And trembling, shrinking from the spoiler's hand,
Far, far away thy children leave the land.

Ill fares the land, to hastening ills a prey,
Where wealth accumulates, and men decay;
Princes and lords may flourish or may fade;
A breath can make them, as a breath has made;
But a bold peasantry, their country's pride,
When once destroyed, can never be supplied.

A time there was, ere England's griefs began, When every rood of ground maintained its man ; For him light labor spread her wholesome store, Just gave what life required, but gave no more; His best companions, innocence and health, And his best riches, ignorance of wealth.

But times are altered; trade's unfeeling train Usurps the land, and dispossess the swain ; Along the lawn where scattered hamlets rose, Unwieldy wealth and cumbrous pomp repose: And every want to luxury allied,

And every pang that folly pays to pride.

Those gentle hours that plenty bade to bloom, Those calm desires that asked but little room, Those healthful sports that graced the peaceful

scene,

Lived in each look, and brightened all the green;
These, far departing, seek a kinder shore,
And rural mirth and manners are no more.

- Oliver Goldsmith.

"The paths to trouble are many,

And never but one sure way
Leads out to the light beyond it:
My poor wife, let us pray."

Then he said to the great All-Father,
"Thy daughter is weak and blind;
Let her sight come back, and clothe her
Once more in her right mind.

"Lead her out of this evil shadow,
Out of these fancies wild;
Let the holy love of the mother,
Turn her again to her child.

'Make her lips like the lips of Mary,
Kissing her blessed Son;

Let her hands, like the hands of Jesus, Rest on her little one.

"Comfort the soul of thy handmaid,

Open her prison door,
And thine shall be all the glory
And praise forevermore."

Then into the face of its mother,

The baby looked up and smiled; And the cloud of her soul was lifted, And she knew her little child.

A beam of slant west sunshine
Made the wan face aimost fair,
Lit the blue eyes' patient wonder
And the rings of pale gold hair.

She kissed it on lip and forehead,

She kissed it on cheek and chin; And she bared her snow white bosom To the lips so pale and thin.

O, fair on her bridal morning

Was the maid who blushed and smiled, But fairer to Ezra Dalton

Looked the mother of his child.

With more than a lover's fondness

He stooped to her worn young face, And the nursing child and the mother He folded in one embrace.

"Now mount and ride, my goodman
As lovest thine own soul!
Woe's me if my wicked fancies

Be the death of Goody Cole!"

His horse was saddled and bridled,
And into the night rode he-
Now through the great black woodland;
Now by the white beached sea.

He rode through the silent clearings,
He came to the ferry wide,
And thrice he called to the boatman
Asleep on the other side.

He set his horse to the river

He swam to Newberry town,
And he called up Justice Sewall
In his nightcap and his gown.
And the grave and worshipful justice
(Upon whose soul be peace);

Set his name to the jailor's warrant
For Goody Cole's release.

Then through the night the hoof-beats
Went sounding like a flail;

And Goody Cole at cock crow,
Came forth from Ipswich jail.

""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 wont 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?

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

Or, sure as fate, we'll send you packing!"
At this the Mayor and Corporation
Quaked with a mighty consternation.
An hour they sat in council,

At length the Mayor broke silence:
"For a guilder I'd my ermine gown sell;

I wish I were a mile hence!

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.
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?"
(With the Corporation as he sat,
Looking little, though wondrous fat;
Nor brighter was his eye, nor moister
Than a too-long opened oyster,

Save when at noon his paunch grew mutinous
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!

L

"Come in!" the Mayor cried, looking bigger;
And in did come the strangest figure!
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,
Had walked this way from his painted tombstone!"

He advanced to the council table,

And, "Please your honors," 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

A scarf of red and yellow stripe,

To match with his coat of the self-same check, 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)

"Yes," said he, "poor piper as I am,

In Tartary I freed the Cham,

Last June, from his huge swarm of gnats;

I eased in Asia the Nizam

Of a monstrous brood of vampire 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, gray 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 by step they followed dancing,

Which was, "At the first shrill notes of the pipe,
I heard a sound as of scraping tripe,
And putting apples, wondrous ripe,
Into a cider press' 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, O rats, rejoice!
The world is grown to one vast dry-saltery!
So munch on, crunch on, take your nuncheon,
Breakfast, supper, dinner, luncheon !
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."
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
Of the rats!"-when suddenly up the face
Of the Piper perked in the market-place,

ピン

With a, "First, if you please, my thousand guilders!"

A thousand guilders! The Mayor looked blue,
So did the Corporation too.

For council dinners made rare havoc
With Claret, Moselle, Vin-de Grave, Hock;
And half the money would replenish
Their cellar's biggest butt with Rhenish.
To pay this sum to a wandering fellow,
With a gipsey 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 for 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!"
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."

"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?"

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 accept the prime.

You threaten us, fellow? Do your worst
Blow your pipe there till you burst!"

Once more he stept into the street;

And to his lips again

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 were 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 the 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!"

Alas, alas 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 the camel in!
The Mayor sent east, west, north and south

To offer the Piper by word of mouth,

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 behind him.
But when they saw 'twas a lost endeavor,
And Piper and dancers were gone forever,
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 afterward 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 labor,
Nor suffered their 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 neighbors lay such stress

To their fathers and mothers having risen
Out of some subterranean 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 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.

-Robert Browning.

I

SLEPT and dreamed that life was Beauty:

I woke and found that life was Duty:

Was then thy dream a shadowy lie?

Toil on, sad heart, courageously, And thou shalt find thy dream to be A noonday light and truth to thee.