Pretty lads and lassies small With their little heads half hid In their white and scarlet caps, Played at bridals in the mart. Neither stay nor halt they brooked, And the little love-lorn Prince Of the Mice knelt down at once To the Cat-King's daughter fair. Hapless Prince! At last he's wed To the Princess. How she scolds! Bites him and devours him-- Hapless mouse!--thus ends the play. That entire day I spent With the children, and we talked Cosily. They longed to know Who I was? and what my trade? "Germany, my dears," I spoke, "Is my native country's name-- Bears are all too common there, So I took to hunting bears! "Many a bear-pelt have I pulled Over many a bearish head, Though, 'tis true, I sometimes got Damage from their bearish paws. "But at last I felt disgust Of this strife with ill-licked boors In my blessèd land--I grew Weary of these daily moils. "So in quest of nobler game, I at last have come to you; I shall try my little strength 'Gainst the mighty Atta Troll. "Worthy of me is this noble Foe. In Germany, alas! Many a battle did I win, Most ashamed of victory." When I left, the little folk Danced about me in a ring, And in sweetest wise they sang: "Girofflino! Girofflett'!" And the youngest of them all Stepped before me quick and pert, And four times she curtsied low As she sang in silver tones: "Curtsies two I give the King, Should I meet him. And the Queen, Should I meet her, then I give Curtsies three unto the Queen. "But should I the devil meet With his fiery eyes and horns, I will make him curtsies four-- Girofflino! Girofflett'!" "Girofflino! Girofflett'!" Shouts once more the mocking band, And around me swings the gay Ring-o'-roses with its song. As I scrambled down the slopes, After me in echoes sweet, Came these words in bird-like strains: "Girofflino! Girofflett'!" [Illustration] [Illustration] CANTO XV Hulking and enormous cliffs Of deformed and twisted shapes Look on me like petrified Monsters of primeval times. Strange! the dingy clouds above Drift like doubles bred of mist, Like some silly counterfeit Of these savage shapes of stone. In the distance roars the fall; Through the fir trees howls the wind! 'Tis a sound implacable And as fatal as despair. Lone and dreadful lies the waste And the black daws sit in swarms On the bleached and rotten pines, Flapping with their weary wings. At my side Lascaro strides Pale and silent--I myself Must like sorry madness look By dire Death accompanied.