The Happy Prince Page #5

The Happy Prince and Other Tales is a collection of stories for children by Oscar Wilde first published in May 1888. It contains five stories: "The Happy Prince", "The Nightingale and the Rose", "The Selfish Giant", "The Devoted Friend", and "The Remarkable Rocket".

• Children

								

Crimson was the girdle of petals, and crimson as a ruby was the heart.

But the Nightingale’s voice grew fainter, and her little wings began to
beat, and a film came over her eyes.  Fainter and fainter grew her song,
and she felt something choking her in her throat.

Then she gave one last burst of music.  The white Moon heard it, and she
forgot the dawn, and lingered on in the sky.  The red rose heard it, and
it trembled all over with ecstasy, and opened its petals to the cold
morning air.  Echo bore it to her purple cavern in the hills, and woke
the sleeping shepherds from their dreams.  It floated through the reeds
of the river, and they carried its message to the sea.

“Look, look!” cried the Tree, “the rose is finished now”; but the
Nightingale made no answer, for she was lying dead in the long grass,
with the thorn in her heart.

And at noon the Student opened his window and looked out.

“Why, what a wonderful piece of luck!” he cried; “here is a red rose!  I
have never seen any rose like it in all my life.  It is so beautiful that
I am sure it has a long Latin name”; and he leaned down and plucked it.

Then he put on his hat, and ran up to the Professor’s house with the rose
in his hand.

The daughter of the Professor was sitting in the doorway winding blue
silk on a reel, and her little dog was lying at her feet.

“You said that you would dance with me if I brought you a red rose,”
cried the Student.  “Here is the reddest rose in all the world.  You will
wear it to-night next your heart, and as we dance together it will tell
you how I love you.”

But the girl frowned.

“I am afraid it will not go with my dress,” she answered; “and, besides,
the Chamberlain’s nephew has sent me some real jewels, and everybody
knows that jewels cost far more than flowers.”

“Well, upon my word, you are very ungrateful,” said the Student angrily;
and he threw the rose into the street, where it fell into the gutter, and
a cart-wheel went over it.

“Ungrateful!” said the girl.  “I tell you what, you are very rude; and,
after all, who are you?  Only a Student.  Why, I don’t believe you have
even got silver buckles to your shoes as the Chamberlain’s nephew has”;
and she got up from her chair and went into the house.

“What a silly thing Love is,” said the Student as he walked away.  “It
is not half as useful as Logic, for it does not prove anything, and it is
always telling one of things that are not going to happen, and making one
believe things that are not true.  In fact, it is quite unpractical, and,
as in this age to be practical is everything, I shall go back to
Philosophy and study Metaphysics.”

So he returned to his room and pulled out a great dusty book, and began
to read.

          [Picture: Decorative graphic of nightingale and rose]




The Selfish Giant.


                       [Picture: The Selfish Giant]

EVERY afternoon, as they were coming from school, the children used to go
and play in the Giant’s garden.

It was a large lovely garden, with soft green grass.  Here and there over
the grass stood beautiful flowers like stars, and there were twelve
peach-trees that in the spring-time broke out into delicate blossoms of
pink and pearl, and in the autumn bore rich fruit.  The birds sat on the
trees and sang so sweetly that the children used to stop their games in
order to listen to them.  “How happy we are here!” they cried to each
other.

           [Picture: Decorative graphic of children in garden]

One day the Giant came back.  He had been to visit his friend the Cornish
ogre, and had stayed with him for seven years.  After the seven years
were over he had said all that he had to say, for his conversation was
limited, and he determined to return to his own castle.  When he arrived
he saw the children playing in the garden.

“What are you doing here?” he cried in a very gruff voice, and the
children ran away.

“My own garden is my own garden,” said the Giant; “any one can understand
that, and I will allow nobody to play in it but myself.”  So he built a
high wall all round it, and put up a notice-board.

          TRESPASSERS

            WILL BE

           PROSECUTED

He was a very selfish Giant.

The poor children had now nowhere to play.  They tried to play on the
road, but the road was very dusty and full of hard stones, and they did
not like it.  They used to wander round the high wall when their lessons
were over, and talk about the beautiful garden inside.  “How happy we
were there,” they said to each other.

Then the Spring came, and all over the country there were little blossoms
and little birds.  Only in the garden of the Selfish Giant it was still
winter.  The birds did not care to sing in it as there were no children,
and the trees forgot to blossom.  Once a beautiful flower put its head
out from the grass, but when it saw the notice-board it was so sorry for
the children that it slipped back into the ground again, and went off to
sleep.  The only people who were pleased were the Snow and the Frost.
“Spring has forgotten this garden,” they cried, “so we will live here all
the year round.”  The Snow covered up the grass with her great white
cloak, and the Frost painted all the trees silver.  Then they invited the
North Wind to stay with them, and he came.  He was wrapped in furs, and
he roared all day about the garden, and blew the chimney-pots down.
“This is a delightful spot,” he said, “we must ask the Hail on a visit.”
So the Hail came.  Every day for three hours he rattled on the roof of
the castle till he broke most of the slates, and then he ran round and
round the garden as fast as he could go.  He was dressed in grey, and his
breath was like ice.

“I cannot understand why the Spring is so late in coming,” said the
Selfish Giant, as he sat at the window and looked out at his cold white
garden; “I hope there will be a change in the weather.”

But the Spring never came, nor the Summer.  The Autumn gave golden fruit
to every garden, but to the Giant’s garden she gave none.  “He is too
selfish,” she said.  So it was always Winter there, and the North Wind,
and the Hail, and the Frost, and the Snow danced about through the trees.

One morning the Giant was lying awake in bed when he heard some lovely
music.  It sounded so sweet to his ears that he thought it must be the
King’s musicians passing by.  It was really only a little linnet singing
outside his window, but it was so long since he had heard a bird sing in
his garden that it seemed to him to be the most beautiful music in the
world.  Then the Hail stopped dancing over his head, and the North Wind
ceased roaring, and a delicious perfume came to him through the open
casement.  “I believe the Spring has come at last,” said the Giant; and
he jumped out of bed and looked out.

What did he see?

He saw a most wonderful sight.  Through a little hole in the wall the
children had crept in, and they were sitting in the branches of the
trees.  In every tree that he could see there was a little child.  And
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