Small feet were pattering, wooden shoes clattering, 200
Little hands clapping, and little tongues chattering,
And, like fowls in a farm-yard, when barley is scattering,
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 210
To the children merrily skipping by,
—­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 bosom 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, 220
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-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, 230
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. 240
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 their 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, 250
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!”

XIV