Then the fear-chill gathered o'er me, And the other trappers found me, With my dark hair blanched and whitened But they spoke not as they raised me; For they knew that in the night I had seen the Shadow-hunter Sancta Maria speed us! The sun is falling low, Before us lies the valley, Of the Walker of the Snow! CHARLES DAWSON SHANLY. THE PIED PIPER OF HAMELIN. HAMELIN TOWN 's in Brunswick, By famous Hanover City; The river Weser, deep and wide, Almost five hundred years ago, 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, At last the people in a body To the Town Hall came flocking: ""T is clear," cried they, "our Mayor 's a noddy; An hour they sate in counsel, At length the Mayor broke silence: It 's easy to bid one rack one's brain,— O for a trap, a trap, a trap!" Just as he said this, what should hap "Bless us," cried the Mayor, "what's that?" Looking little though wondrous fat; Nor brighter was his eye, nor moister Save when at noon his paunch grew mutinous Makes my heart go pit-a-pat!" “Come in!”—the Mayor cried, looking bigger; 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 |