12
And
at
the
scarf’s
end
hung
a
pipe;
And
his
fingers
they
noticed
were
ever
straying
As
if
impatient
to
be
playing
Upon
his
pipe,
as
low
it
dangled
Over
his
vesture
so
old-fangled.)
“Yet,”
said
he,
“poor
Piper
as
I
am,
In
Tartary
I
freed
the
Cham,
Last
June,
from
his
huge
swarms
of
gnats,
I
eased
in
Asia
the
Nizam
Of
a
monstrous
brood
of
vampyre-bats:
And
as
for
what
your
brain
bewilders,
If
I
can
rid
your
town
of
rats
Will
you
give
me
a
thousand
guilders?”
“One?
fifty
thousand!”—
was
the
exclamation
Of
the
astonished
Mayor
and
Corporation.
VII.
Into
the
street
the
Piper
stept,
Smiling
first
a
little
smile,
As
if
he
knew
what
magic
slept
In
his
quiet
pipe
the
while;
Then,
like
a
musical
adept,
To
blow
the
pipe
his
lips
he
wrinkled,
And
green
and
blue
his
sharp
eyes
twinkled,
Like
a
candle-flame
where
salt
is
sprinkled;