Selections From The Poems And Plays Of Robert Browning Part 12

Then Gabriel, like a rainbow's birth, 25 Spread his wings and sank to earth;

Entered, in flesh, the empty cell, Lived there, and played the craftsman well;

And morning, evening, noon, and night, Praised G.o.d in place of Theocrite. 30

And from a boy, to youth he grew; The man put off the stripling's hue;

The man matured and fell away Into the season of decay;

And ever o'er the trade he bent, 35 And ever lived on earth content.

(He did G.o.d's will; to him, all one If on the earth or in the sun.)

G.o.d said, "A praise is in mine ear; There is no doubt in it, no fear: 40

"So sing old worlds, and so New worlds that from my footstool go.

"Clearer loves sound other ways; I miss my little human praise."

Then forth sprang Gabriel's wings, off fell 45 The flesh disguise, remained the cell.

'Twas Easter Day; he flew to Rome, And paused above Saint Peter's dome.

In the tiring-room close by The great outer gallery, 50

With his holy vestments dight, Stood the new Pope, Theocrite;

And all his past career Came back upon him clear,

Since when, a boy, he plied his trade, 55 Till on his life the sickness weighed;

And in his cell, when death drew near, An angel in a dream brought cheer;

And rising from the sickness drear He grew a priest, and now stood here. 60

To the East with praise he turned, And on his sight the angel burned.

"I bore thee from thy craftsman's cell And set thee here; I did not well.

"Vainly I left my angel-sphere, 65 Vain was thy dream of many a year.

"Thy voice's praise seemed weak; it dropped-- Creation's chorus stopped!

"Go back and praise again The early way, while I remain. 70

"With that weak voice of our disdain, Take up creation's pausing strain.

"Back to the cell and poor employ; Resume the craftsman and the boy!"

Theocrite grew old at home; 75 A new Pope dwelt in Peter's dome.

One vanished as the other died; They sought G.o.d side by side.

THE PIED PIPER OF HAMELIN;

A CHILD'S STORY

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; 5 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, 15 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 25 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; 35 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?" 45 (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-- 55 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 65 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