VII

What does it all mean, poet? Well, Your brains beat into rhythm, you tell What we felt only; you expressed 70 You hold things beautiful the best, And pace them in rhyme so, side by side.

'Tis something, nay 'tis much: but then, Have you yourself what's best for men?

Are you--poor, sick, old ere your time-- Nearer one whit your own sublime Than we who never have turned a rhyme?

Sing, riding's a joy! For me, I ride.

VIII

And you, great sculptor--so, you gave A score of years to Art, her slave, 80 And that's your Venus, whence we turn To yonder girl that fords the burn!

You acquiesce, and shall I repine?

What, man of music, you grown grey With notes and nothing else to say, Is this your sole praise from a friend, "Greatly his opera's strains intend, Put in music we know how fashions end!"

I gave my youth; but we ride, in fine.

IX

Who knows what's fit for us? Had fate 90 Proposed bliss here should sublimate My being--had I signed the bond-- Still one must lead some life beyond, Have a bliss to die with, dim-descried.

This foot once planted on the goal, This glory-garland round my soul, Could I descry such? Try and test!

I sink back shuddering from the quest.

Earth being so good, would heaven seem best?

Now, heaven and she are beyond this ride.

X

And yet--she has not spoke so long! 100 What if heaven be that, fair and strong At life's best, with our eyes upturned Whither life's flower is first discerned, We, fixed so, ever should so abide?

What if we still ride on, we two With life for ever old yet new, Changed not in kind but in degree, The instant made eternity-- And heaven just prove that I and she Ride, ride together, forever ride? 110

NOTES: "The Last Ride Together." The rapture of a rejected lover in the one more last ride which he asks for and obtains, discovers for him the all-sufficing glory of love in itself.

Soldiership, statesmanship, art are disproportionate in their results; love can be its own reward, yes, heaven itself.

THE PIED PIPER OF HAMELIN:

A CHILD'S STORY.

(Written for, and inscribed to, W. M. the Younger.)

I

Hamelin Town's in Brunswick, By famous Hanover city; The river Weser, deep and wide, Washes its wall on the southern side; A pleasanter spot you never spied; But, when begins my ditty, Almost five hundred years ago, To see the townsfolk suffer so From vermin, was a pity.

II

Rats! 10 They fought the dogs and killed the cats, And bit the babies in the cradles, And ate the cheeses out of the vats, And licked the soup from the cooks' own ladles, Split open the kegs of salted sprats, Made nests inside men's Sunday hats, And even spoiled the women's chats By drowning their speaking With shrieking and squeaking In fifty different sharps and flats. 20

III

At last the people in a body To the Town Hall came flocking "'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 won't 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 30 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.

IV

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, 40 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 50 For a plate of turtle green and glutinous) "Only a sc.r.a.ping of shoes on the mat?

Anything like the sound of a rat Makes my heart go pit-a-pat!"

V

"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, 60 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 n.o.body 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!"

VI

He advanced to the council-table 70 And, "Please your honours," 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 80 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.) "Yet," said he, "poor piper as I am, In Tartary I freed the Cham, Last June, from his huge swarms of gnats; 90 I eased in Asia the Nizam Of a monstrous brood of vampyre-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.

VII

Into the street the Piper stept, Smiling first a little smile, As if he knew what magic slept 100 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. 110 Great rats, small rats, lean rats, brawny rats, Brown rats, black rats, grey rats, tawny rats, Grave old plodders, gay young friskers, Fathers, mothers, uncles, cousins, c.o.c.king tails and p.r.i.c.king 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 for step they followed dancing, 120 Until they came to the river Weser Wherein all plunged and perished!

--Save one who, stout as Julius Caesar, Swam across and lived to carry (As he, the ma.n.u.script he cherished) To Rat-land home his commentary: Which was, "At the first shrill notes of the pipe, I heard a sound as of sc.r.a.ping tripe, And putting apples, wondrous ripe, Into a cider-press's gripe: 130 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 b.u.t.ter-casks: And it seemed as if a voice (Sweeter far than by harp or by psaltery Is breathed) called out, 'Oh rats, rejoice!

The world is grown to one vast drysaltery!

So munch on, crunch on, take your nuncheon, Breakfast, supper, dinner, luncheon!' 140 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 roiling o'er me."

VIII

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

IX

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 b.u.t.t with Rhenish. 160 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 for drink, And a matter of money to put in your poke; But as for the guilders, what we spoke 170 Of them, as you very well know, was in joke.

Beside, our losses have made us thrifty.