Every day the starving poor
     Crowded around Bishop Hatto’s door,
     For he had a plentiful last-year’s store,
     And all the neighbourhood could tell
     His granaries were furnished well.

     At last Bishop Hatto appointed a day
     To quiet the poor without delay;
     He bade them to his great barn repair,
     And they should have food for the winter there.

     Rejoiced such tidings good to hear,
     The poor folk flocked from far and near;
     The great barn was full as it could hold
     Of women and children, and young and old.

     Then when he saw it could hold no more,
     Bishop Hatto he made fast the door;
     And while for mercy on Christ they call,
     He set fire to the barn and burnt them all.

     “I’ faith, ’tis an excellent bonfire!” quoth he,
     “And the country is greatly obliged to me
     For ridding it in these times forlorn
     Of rats that only consume the corn.”

     So then to his palace returned he,
     And he sat down to supper merrily;
     And he slept that night like an innocent man,
     But Bishop Hatto never slept again.

     In the morning as he enter’d the hall
     Where his picture hung against the wall,
     A sweat like death all over him came,
     For the rats had eaten it out of the frame.

     As he looked there came a man from his farm,
     He had a countenance white with alarm;
     “My lord, I opened your granaries this morn,
     And the rats had eaten all your corn.”

     Another came running presently,
     And he was pale as pale could be;
     “Fly, my Lord Bishop, fly!” quoth he,
     “Ten thousand rats are coming this way—­
     The Lord forgive you for yesterday!”

     “I’ll go to my tower on the Rhine,” replied he,
     “’Tis the safest place in Germany;
     The walls are high and the shores are steep,
     And the stream is strong and the water deep.”

     Bishop Hatto fearfully hastened away,
     And he crossed the Rhine without delay,
     And reached his tower, and barred with care
     All windows, doors, and loop-holes there.

     He laid him down and closed his eyes;—­
     But soon a scream made him arise,
     He started and saw two eyes of flame
     On his pillow from whence the screaming came.

     He listened and looked—­it was only the cat;
     But the Bishop he grew more fearful for that,
     For she sat screaming, mad with fear,
     At the army of rats that were drawing near.

     For they have swum over the river so deep,
     And they have climbed the shores so steep,
     And up the tower their way is bent,
     To do the work for which they were sent.

     They are not to be told by the dozen or score,
     By thousands they come, and by myriads and more,
     Such numbers had never been heard of before,
     Such a judgment had never been witnessed of yore.