Classic Poem

Little Thumbling! little Thumbling!
Everywhere thy fame resoundeth;
E'en the infant in the cradle
Listens to thy feats, astounded.
Whose the eye that tears withholdeth,
When through hideous woods thou boundest,
Whilst the winds of night are roaring,
Whilst the hungry wolves are howling?
Whose the heart for thee that fears not
In the giant's house low-crouching,
When thou hear'st the ogre near thee,
Sniffing for thy flesh around him?
For thyself and six young brothers
Thou from death a refuge foundest,
Changing all the crowns and night-caps,
Slily thus the foe confounding.
On the rock where slept the giant,
Snoring till the hills resounded,
Slily from his monstrous feet his
Seven-leagued boots thou stolest, mouse-like!
Courier to a king in trouble,
Swiftly on thine errands bounding,
Costly was the fee thou askedst,
E'en a princess, richly dowered!
Little Thumbling! little Thumbling,
Everywhere thy fame resoundeth;
With the seven-leagued boots it strideth
Onward still through years a thousand!