The Happy Prince and Other Tales | Page 5

the little boys wore
scarlet caps and skated on the ice.
The poor little Swallow grew colder and colder, but he would not leave
the Prince, he loved him too well. He picked up crumbs outside the
baker's door when the baker was not looking and tried to keep himself
warm by flapping his wings.
But at last he knew that he was going to die. He had just strength to fly
up to the Prince's shoulder once more. "Good-bye, dear Prince!" he
murmured, "will you let me kiss your hand?"
"I am glad that you are going to Egypt at last, little Swallow," said the
Prince, "you have stayed too long here; but you must kiss me on the
lips, for I love you."
"It is not to Egypt that I am going," said the Swallow. "I am going to
the House of Death. Death is the brother of Sleep, is he not?"
And he kissed the Happy Prince on the lips, and fell down dead at his
feet.
At that moment a curious crack sounded inside the statue, as if
something had broken. The fact is that the leaden heart had snapped
right in two. It certainly was a dreadfully hard frost.
Early the next morning the Mayor was walking in the square below in
company with the Town Councillors. As they passed the column he
looked up at the statue: "Dear me! how shabby the Happy Prince
looks!" he said.
"How shabby indeed!" cried the Town Councillors, who always agreed
with the Mayor; and they went up to look at it.

"The ruby has fallen out of his sword, his eyes are gone, and he is
golden no longer," said the Mayor in fact, "he is litttle beter than a
beggar!"
"Little better than a beggar," said the Town Councillors.
"And here is actually a dead bird at his feet!" continued the Mayor.
"We must really issue a proclamation that birds are not to be allowed to
die here." And the Town Clerk made a note of the suggestion.
So they pulled down the statue of the Happy Prince. "As he is no longer
beautiful he is no longer useful," said the Art Professor at the
University.
Then they melted the statue in a furnace, and the Mayor held a meeting
of the Corporation to decide what was to be done with the metal. "We
must have another statue, of course," he said, "and it shall be a statue of
myself."
"Of myself," said each of the Town Councillors, and they quarrelled.
When I last heard of them they were quarrelling still.
"What a strange thing!" said the overseer of the workmen at the
foundry. "This broken lead heart will not melt in the furnace. We must
throw it away." So they threw it on a dust-heap where the dead
Swallow was also lying.
"Bring me the two most precious things in the city," said God to one of
His Angels; and the Angel brought Him the leaden heart and the dead
bird.
"You have rightly chosen," said God, "for in my garden of Paradise this
little bird shall sing for evermore, and in my city of gold the Happy
Prince shall praise me."

THE NIGHTINGALE AND THE ROSE

"She said that she would dance with me if I brought her red roses,"
cried the young Student; "but in all my garden there is no red rose."
From her nest in the holm-oak tree the Nightingale heard him, and she
looked out through the leaves, and wondered.
"No red rose in all my garden!" he cried, and his beautiful eyes filled
with tears. "Ah, on what little things does happiness depend! I have
read all that the wise men have written, and all the secrets of
philosophy are mine, yet for want of a red rose is my life made
wretched."
"Here at last is a true lover," said the Nightingale. "Night after night
have I sung of him, though I knew him not: night after night have I told
his story to the stars, and now I see him. His hair is dark as the
hyacinth-blossom, and his lips are red as the rose of his desire; but
passion has made his face like pale ivory, and sorrow has set her seal
upon his brow."
"The Prince gives a ball to-morrow night," murmured the young
Student, "and my love will be of the company. If I bring her a red rose
she will dance with me till dawn. If I bring her a red rose, I shall hold
her in my arms, and she will lean her head upon my shoulder, and her
hand will be clasped in mine. But there is no red rose in my garden, so I
shall sit lonely, and she will pass