The summer and autumn had been so wet
That in winter the corn was growing yet;
'Twas a piteous sight to see all around
The grain lie rotting on the ground.
Every day the starving poor
Crowded around Bishop Hatto's door,
For 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;
So 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 with shrieks they call,
He set fire to the Barn and burnt them all,
"A rare and 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 entered 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;--
"I opened your granaries this morn,
And the Rats had eaten all the corn."
Another came running presently,
And he was pale as pale could be;--
"Fly! my Lord Bishop, without delay,
Ten thousand rats are coming this way."
"I'll go to my tower on the Rhine," quoth he,
"'Tis the safest place in Germany;
The walls are high and the shores are steep,
And the stream is long 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 the windows, doors, and loopholes 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 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 climed 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 the thousands they come, and by myriads, and more;
Such numbers have never been heard of before,
Such a judgement had never been witnessed of yore.
Down on his knees the Bishop fell,
And faster and faster his beads did tell,
As louder and louder, drawing near,
The gnawing by their teeth he could hear.
And in at the windows, and in at the door,
And through the walls helter-skelter they pour,
And down from the ceiling, and up from the floor,
From the right and the left, from behind and before,
From within and without, from above and below;
And all at once to the Bishop they go.
They have whetted their teeth against the stones,
And now they pick the Bishop's bones;
They gnawed the flesh from every limb,
For they were sent to do judgement on him.