The whole iniquitous troop of beasts,
The Roman Pope and the Roman priests
That sorely infest and afflict the earth!

Ye nuns, ye singing birds of the air!
The fowler hath caught you in his snare,
And keeps you safe in his gilded cage,
Singing the song that never tires,

Der du von dem Himmel bist,
Alles Leid und Schmerzen stillest,
Den, der doppelt elend ist,
Doppelt mit Erquickung füllest,

Ach, ich bin des Treibens müde!
Was soll all der Schmerz und Lust?

Süßer Friede,

Komm, ach komm in meine Brust!

II

Über allen Gipfeln

Ist Ruh,

In allen Wipfeln

Spürest du

Kaum einen Hauch;

Die Vögelein schweigen im Walde.

Warte nur,
balde

Ruhest du auch.

Johann Wolfgang von Goethe.

To lure down others from their nests;
How ye flutter and beat your breasts,
Warm and soft with young desires,
Against the cruel, pitiless wires,
Reclaiming your lost heritage!
Behold! A hand unbars the door,
Ye shall be captives held no more.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.

THOU that from the heavens art,
Every pain and sorrow stillest,
And the doubly wretched heart
Doubly with refreshment fillest,
I am weary with contending!
Why this rapture and unrest?
Peace descending,

Come, ah, come into my breast!

II

O'er all the hill-tops

Is quiet now,

In all the tree-tops

Hearest thou

Hardly a breath;

The birds are asleep in the trees:

Wait; soon like these

Thou too shalt rest.

Tr. by H. W. Longfellow.

The Pied Piper of Hamelin

(Hameln)

HAMELIN

AMELIN Town's in Brunswick,
By famous Hanover City;

The river Weser, deep and wide,
Washes its walls 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.

Rats!

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 cook's 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.

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,

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
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.

An hour they sat in counsel.

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
I've scratched it so, and all in vain.
O 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

For a plate of turtle green and glutinous.)

"Only a scraping of shoes on the mat?

Anything like the sound of a rat

Makes my heart go pit-a-pat!"

"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,
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 nobody 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!"

He advanced to the council-table:

And, "Please your honors," 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

A scarf of red and yellow stripe,

To match with his coat of the selfsame check;
And at the scarf's end hung a pipe;