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英美著名儿童诗一百首 [58]

By Root 4660 0
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 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
  Of them, as you very well know, was in joke.
  Beside, our losses have made us thrifty.
  A thousand guilders! Come, take fifty!’
  Ⅹ
  The piper's face fell, and he cried,
  ‘No trifling! I can't wait, beside!
  I've promised to visit by dinner time
  Bagdat, and accept the prime
  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.’
  Ⅺ
  ‘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

  You threaten us, fellow
Do your worst,
  Blow your pipe there till you burst!’
  Ⅻ
  Once more he stept into the street;
  And to his lips again
  Laid his long pipe of smooth straight cane;
  And ere he blew three notes (such sweet
  Soft notes as yet musician's cunning
  Never gave the enraptured air)
  There was a rustling, that seemed like a bustling
  Of merry crowds justling at pitching and hustling,
  Small feet were pattering, wooden shoes clattering,
  Little hands clapping and little tongues chattering,
  And, like fowls in a farm-yard when barley is sca
  ttering,
  Out came the children running.
  All the little boys and girls,
  With rosy cheeks and flaxen curls,
  And sparkling eyes and teeth like pearls,
  Tripping and skipping, ran merrily after
  The wonderful music with shouting and laughter.
  ⅩⅢ
  The Mayor was dumb, and the Council stood
  As if they were changed into blocks of wood,
  Unable to move a step, or cry
  To the children merrily skipping by—
  And could only follow with the eye
  That joyous crowd at the Piper's back.
  But how the Mayor was on the rack,
  And the wretched Council's bosoms beat,
  As the Piper turned from the High Street
  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,
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