之前推到此处的时候没有意识到什么，直到一直推到TE在到后来刻的TE，一种压抑、文艺、悲伤的感觉，如同这部童话
快乐王子（巴金译）
快乐王子的像在一根高圆柱上面，高高地耸立在城市的上空。他满身贴着薄薄的纯金叶子，一对蓝宝石做成他的眼睛，一只大的红宝石嵌在他的剑柄上，灿烂地发着红光。
他的确得到一般人的称赞。一个市参议员为了表示自己有艺术的欣赏力，说过：“他像风信标那样漂亮，”不过他又害怕别人会把他看作一个不务实际的人（其实他并不是不务实际的），便加上一句：“只是他不及风信标那样有用。”
“为什么你不能像快乐王子那样呢？”一位聪明的母亲对她那个哭着要月亮的孩子说，“快乐王子连做梦也没想到会哭着要东西。”
“我真高兴世界上究竟还有一个人是很快乐的，”一个失意的人望着这座非常出色的像喃喃地说。
“他很像一个天使，”孤儿院的孩子们说，他们正从大教堂出来，披着光亮夺目的猩红色斗篷，束着洁白的遮胸。
“你们怎么知道？”数学先生说，“你们从没有见过一位天使。”
“啊！可是我们在梦里见过的，”孩子们答道。数学先生皱起眉头，板着面孔，因为他不赞成小孩子做梦。
某一个夜晚一只小燕子飞过城市的上空。他的朋友们六个星期以前就到埃及去了，但是他还留在后面，因为他恋着那根最美丽的芦苇。他还是在早春遇见她的，那时他正沿着河顺流飞去，追一只黄色飞蛾，她的细腰很引起他的注意，他便站住同她谈起话来。
“我可以爱你吗？”燕子说，他素来就有马上谈到本题的脾气。芦苇对他深深地弯一下腰，他便在她的身边不停地飞来飞去，用他的翅子点水，做出许多银色的涟漪，这便是他求爱的表示，他就这样地过了一整个夏天。
“这样的恋爱太可笑了，”别的燕子呢喃地说，“她没有钱，而且亲戚太多，”的确河边长满了芦苇，到处都是。后来秋天来了，他们都飞走了。
他们走了以后，他觉得寂寞，讨厌起他的爱人来了。他说：“她不讲话，我又害怕她是一个荡妇，因为她老是跟风调情。”这倒是真的，风一吹，芦苇就行着最动人的屈膝礼。他又说：“我相信她是惯于家居的，可是我喜欢旅行，那么我的妻子也应该喜欢旅行才成。”
“你愿意跟我走吗？”他最后忍不住了问她道，然而芦苇摇摇头，她非常依恋家。
“原来你从前是跟我寻开心的，”他叫道。“我现在到金字塔那边去了。再会吧！”他飞走了。
他飞了一个整天，晚上他到了这个城市。“我在什么地方过夜呢？”他说，“我希望城里已经给我预备了住处。”
随后他看见了立在高圆柱上面的那座像。他说：“我就在这儿过夜吧，这倒是一个空气新鲜的好地点。”他便飞下来，恰好停在快乐王子的两只脚中间。
“我找到一个金的睡房了，”他向四周看了一下，轻轻地对自己说，他打算睡觉了，但是他刚刚把头放到他的翅子下面去的时候，忽然大大的一滴水落到他的身上来。“多么奇怪的事！”他叫起来，“天上没有一片云，星星非常明亮，可是下起雨来了。北欧的天气真可怕。芦苇素来喜欢雨，不过那只是她的自私。”
接着又落下了一滴。
“要是一座像不能够遮雨，那么它又有什么用处？”他说，“我应该找一个好的烟囱去，”他决定飞开了。
但是他还没有张开翅膀，第三滴水又落了下来，他仰起头去看，他看见——啊！他看见了什么呢？
快乐王子的眼里装满了泪水，泪珠沿着他的黄金的脸颊流下来。他的脸在月光里显得这么美，叫小燕子的心里也充满了怜悯。
“你是谁？”他问道。
“我是快乐王子。”
“那么你为什么哭呢？”燕子又问，“你看，你把我一身都打湿了。”
“从前我活着，有一颗人心的时候，”王子慢慢地答道，“我并不知道眼泪是什么东西，因为我那个时候住在无愁宫里，悲哀是不能够进去的。白天有人陪我在花园里玩，晚上我又在大厅里领头跳舞。花园的四周围着一道高墙，我就从没有想到去问人墙外是什么样的景象，我眼前的一切都是非常美的。我的臣子都称我做快乐王子，不错，如果欢娱可以算作快乐，我就的确是快乐的了。我这样地活着，我也这样地死去。我死了，他们就把我放在这儿，而且立得这么高，让我看得见我这个城市的一切丑恶和穷苦，我的心虽然是铅做的，我也忍不住哭了。”
“怎么，他并不是纯金的？”燕子轻轻地对自己说，他非常讲究礼貌，不肯高声谈论别人的私事。
“远远的，”王子用一种低微的、音乐似的声音说下去。“远远的，在一条小街上有一所穷人住的房子。一扇窗开着，我看见窗内有一个妇人坐在桌子旁边。她的脸很瘦，又带病容。她的一双手粗糙、发红，指头上满是针眼，因为她是一个裁缝。她正在一件缎子衣服上绣花，绣的是西番莲，预备给皇后的最可爱的宫女在下一次宫中舞会里穿的。在这屋子的角落里，她的小孩躺在床上生病。他发热，嚷着要橙子吃。他母亲没有别的东西给他，只有河水，所以他在哭。燕子，燕子，小燕子，你肯把我剑柄上的红宝石取下来给她送去吗？我的脚钉牢在这个像座上，我动不了。”
“朋友们在埃及等我，”燕子说。“他们正在尼罗河上飞来飞去，同大朵的莲花谈话。他们不久就要到伟大的国王的坟墓里去睡眠了。那个国王自己也就睡在那里他的彩色的棺材里。他的身子是用黄布紧紧裹着的，而且还用了香料来保存它。一串浅绿色翡翠做成的链子系在他的颈项上，他的一只手就像是干枯的落叶。”
“燕子，燕子，小燕子，”王子要求说，“你难道不肯陪我过一夜，做一回我的信差么？那个孩子渴得太厉害了，他母亲太苦恼了。”
“我并不喜欢小孩，”燕子回答道，“我还记得上一个夏天，我停在河上的时候，有两个粗野的小孩，就是磨坊主人的儿子，他们常常丢石头打我。不消说他们是打不中的；我们燕子飞得极快，不会给他们打中，而且我还是出身于一个以敏捷出名的家庭，更不用害怕。不过这究竟是一种不客气的表示。”
然而快乐王子的面容显得那样地忧愁，叫小燕子的心也软下来了。他便说：“这儿冷得很，不过我愿意陪你过一夜，我高兴做你的信差。”
“小燕子，谢谢你，”王子说。
燕子便从王子的剑柄上啄下了那块大红宝石，衔着它飞起来，飞过栉比的屋顶，向远处飞去了。
他飞过大教堂的塔顶，看见那里的大理石的天使雕像。他飞过王宫，听见了跳舞的声音。一个美貌的少女同她的情人正走到露台上来。“你看，星星多么好，爱的魔力多么大！”他对她说。“我希望我的衣服早点送来，赶得上大跳舞会，”她接口道，“我叫人在上面
绣了西番莲花；可是那些女裁缝太懒了。”
他飞过河面，看见挂在船桅上的无数的灯笼，他又飞过犹太村，看见一些年老的犹太人在那里做生意讲价钱，把钱放在铜天平上面称着。
最后他到了那所穷人的屋子，朝里面看去，小孩正发着热在床上翻来覆去，母亲已经睡熟，因为她太疲倦了。他跳进窗里，把红宝石放在桌上，就放在妇人的顶针旁边。过后他又轻轻地绕着床飞了一阵，用翅子扇着小孩的前额。“我觉得多么凉，”孩子说，“我一定好起来了。”他便沉沉地睡去了，他睡得很甜。
燕子回到快乐王子那里，把他做过的事讲给王子听。他又说：“这倒是很奇怪的事，虽然天气这么冷，我却觉得很暖和。”
“那是因为你做了一件好事，”王子说。小燕子开始想起来，过后他睡着了。他有这样的一种习惯，只要一用思想，就会打瞌睡的。
天亮以后他飞下河去洗了一个澡。一位禽学教授走过桥上，看见了，便说：“真是一件少有的事，冬天里会有燕子！”他便写了一封讲这件事的长信送给本地报纸发表。每个人都引用这封信，尽管信里有那么多他们不能了解的句子。
“今晚上我要到埃及去，”燕子说，他想到前途，心里非常高兴。他把城里所有的公共纪念物都参观过了，并且还在教堂的尖顶上坐了好一阵。不管他到什么地方，麻雀们都吱吱叫着，而且互相说：“这是一位多么显贵的生客！”因此他玩得非常高兴。
月亮上升的时候，他飞回到快乐王子那里。他问道：“你在埃及有什么事要我办吗？我就要动身了。”
“燕子，燕子，小燕子，”王子说，“你不肯陪我再过一夜么？”
“朋友们在埃及等我，”燕子回答道。“明天他们便要飞往尼罗河上游到第二瀑布去，在那儿河马睡在纸草中间，门农神坐在花岗石宝座上面。他整夜守着星星，到晓星发光的时候，他发出一声欢乐的叫喊，然后便沉默了。正午时分，成群的黄狮走下河边来饮水。他们有和绿柱玉一样的眼睛，他们的吼叫比瀑布的吼声还要响亮。”
“燕子，燕子，小燕子，”王子说，“远远的，在城的那一边，我看见一个年轻人住在顶楼里面。他埋着头在一张堆满稿纸的书桌上写字，手边一个大玻璃杯里放着一束枯萎的紫罗兰。他的头发是棕色的，乱蓬蓬的，他的嘴唇像石榴一样地红，他还有一对朦胧的大眼睛。他在写一个戏，预备写成给戏院经理送去，可是他太冷了，不能够再写一个字。炉子里没有火，他又饿得头昏眼花了。”
“我愿意陪你再待一夜，”燕子说，他的确有好心肠。“你要我也给他送一块红宝石去吗？”
“唉！我现在没有红宝石了，”王子说，“我就只剩下一对眼睛。它们是用珍奇的蓝宝石做成的，这对蓝宝石还是一千年前在印度出产的，请你取出一颗来给他送去。他会把它卖给珠宝商，换钱来买食物、买木柴，好写完他的戏。”
“我亲爱的王子，我不能够这样做，”燕子说着哭起来了。
“燕子，燕子，小燕子，”王子说，“你就照我吩咐你的话做罢。”
燕子便取出王子的一只眼睛，往学生的顶楼飞去了。屋顶上有一个洞，要进去是很容易的，他便从洞里飞了进去。那个年轻人两只手托着脸颊，没有听见燕子的扑翅声，等到他抬起头来，却看见那颗美丽的蓝宝石在枯萎的紫罗兰上面了。
“现在开始有人赏识我了，”他叫道；“这是某一个钦佩我的人送来的。我现在可以写完我的戏了，”他露出很快乐的样子。
第二天燕子又飞到港口去。他坐在一只大船的桅杆上，望着水手们用粗绳把大箱子拖出船舱来。每只箱子上来的时候，他们就叫着：“杭唷！……” “我要到埃及去了！”燕子嚷道，可是没有人注意他，等到月亮上升的时候，他又回到快乐王子那里去。
“我是来向你告别的，”他叫道。
“燕子，燕子，小燕子，”王子说，“你不肯陪我再过一夜么？”
“这是冬天了，”燕子答道，“寒冷的雪就快要到这儿来了，这时候在埃及，太阳照在浓绿的棕榈树上，很暖和，鳄鱼躺在泥沼里，懒洋洋地朝四面看。朋友们正在巴伯克的太阳神庙里筑巢，那些淡红的和雪白的鸽子在旁边望着，一面在讲情话。亲爱的王子，我一定要离开你了，不过我决不会忘记你，来年春天我要给你带回来两粒美丽的宝石，偿还你给了别人的那两颗。我带来的红宝石会比一朵红玫瑰更红，蓝宝石会比大海更蓝。”
“就在这下面的广场上，站着一个卖火柴的女孩，”王子说。“她把她的火柴都掉在沟里了，它们全完了。要是她不带点钱回家，她的父亲会打她的，她现在正哭着。她没有鞋、没有袜，小小的头上没有一顶帽子。你把我另一只眼睛也取下来，拿去给她，那么她的父亲便不会打她了。”
“我愿意陪你再过一夜，”燕子说，“我却不能够取下你的眼睛。那个时候你就要变成瞎子了。”
“燕子，燕子，小燕子，”王子说，“你就照我吩咐你的话做罢。”
他便取下王子的另一只眼睛，带着它飞到下面去。他飞过卖火柴女孩的面前，把宝石轻轻放在她的手掌心里。“这是一块多么可爱的玻璃！”小女孩叫起来；她一面笑着跑回家去。
燕子又回到王子那儿。他说：“你现在眼睛瞎了，我要永远跟你在一块儿。”
“不，小燕子，”这个可怜的王子说，“你应该到埃及去。”
“我要永远陪伴你，”燕子说，他就在王子的脚下睡了。
第二天他整天坐在王子的肩上，给王子讲起他在那些奇怪的国土上见到的种种事情。他讲起那些红色的朱鹭，它们排成长行站在尼罗河岸上，用它们的长嘴捕捉金鱼。他讲起斯芬克斯，它活得跟世界一样久，住在沙漠里面，知道一切的事情。他讲起那些商人，他们手里捏着琥珀念珠，慢慢地跟着他们的骆驼走路；他讲起月山的王，他黑得像乌木，崇拜一块大的水晶。他讲起那条大绿蛇，它睡在棕榈树上，有二十个僧侣拿蜜糕喂它；他讲起那些侏儒，他们把扁平的大树叶当作小舟，载他们渡过大湖，又常常同蝴蝶发生战争。
“亲爱的小燕子，”王子说，“你给我讲了种种奇特的事情，可是最奇特的还是那许多男男女女的苦难。再没有比贫穷更不可思议的了。小燕子，你就在我这个城的上空飞一转罢，你告诉我你在这个城里见到些什么事情。”
燕子便在这个
大城的上空飞着，他看见有钱人在他们的漂亮的住宅里作乐，乞丐们坐在大门外挨冻。他飞进阴暗的小巷里，看见那些饥饿的小孩伸出苍白的瘦脸没精打采地望着污秽的街道。在一道桥的桥洞下面躺着两个小孩，他们紧紧地搂在一起，想使身体得到一点温暖。“我们真饿啊！”他们说。“你们不要躺在这儿，”看守人吼道，他们只好站起来走进雨中去了。
他便回去把看见的景象告诉了王子。
“我满身贴着纯金，”王子说，“你给我把它一片一片地拿掉，拿去送给那些穷人，活着的人总以为金子能够使他们幸福。”
燕子把纯金一片一片地啄了下来，最后快乐王子就变成灰暗难看的了。他又把纯金一片一片地拿去送给那些穷人。小孩们的脸颊上现出了红色，他们在街上玩着，大声笑着。“我们现在有面包了，”他们这样叫道。
随后雪来了，严寒也到了。街道仿佛是用银子筑成的，它们是那么亮，那么光辉，长长的冰柱像水晶的短剑似的悬挂在檐前，每个行人都穿着皮衣，小孩们也戴上红帽子溜冰取乐。
可怜小燕子却一天比一天地更觉得冷了，可是他仍然不肯离开王子，他太爱王子了。他只有趁着面包师不注意的时候，在面包店门口啄一点面包屑吃，而且拍着翅膀来取暖。
但是最后他知道自己快要死了。他就只有一点气力，够他再飞到王子的肩上去一趟。“亲爱的王子，再见罢！”他喃喃地说，“你肯让我亲你的手吗？”
“小燕子，我很高兴你到底要到埃及去了，”王子说，“你在这儿住得太久了，不过你应该亲我的嘴唇，因为我爱你。”
“我现在不是到埃及去，”燕子说。“我是到死之家去的。听说死是睡的兄弟，不是吗？”
他吻了快乐王子的嘴唇，然后跌在王子的脚下，死了。
那个时候在这座像的内部忽然起了一个奇怪的爆裂声，好像有什么东西破碎了似的。事实是王子的那颗铅心已经裂成两半了。这的确是一个极可怕的严寒天气。
第二天大清早市参议员们陪着市长在下面广场上散步。他们走过圆柱的时候，市长仰起头看快乐王子的像。“啊，快乐王子多么难看！”他说。
“的确很难看！”市参议员们齐声叫起来，他们平日总是附和市长的意见的，这时大家便走上去细看。
“他剑柄上的红宝石掉了，眼睛也没有了，他也不再是黄金的了，”市长说；“讲句老实话，他比一个讨饭的好不了多少！”
“比一个讨饭的好不了多少，”市参议员们说。
“他脚下还有一只死鸟！”市长又说，“我们的确应该发一个布告，禁止鸟死在这个地方。”书记员立刻把这个建议记录下来。
以后他们就把快乐王子的像拆下来了。大学的美术教授说：“他既然不再是美丽的，那么不再是有用的了。”
他们把这座像放在炉里熔化，市长便召集一个会来决定金属的用途。“自然，我们应该另外铸一座像，”他说，“那么就铸我的像吧。”
“不，还是铸我的像，”每个市参议员都这样说，他们争吵起来。我后来听见人谈起他们，据说他们还在争吵。
“真是一件古怪的事，”铸造厂的监工说。“这块破裂的铅心在炉里熔化不了。我们一定得把它扔掉。”他们便把它扔在一个垃圾堆上，那只死燕子也躺在那里。
“把这个城里两件最珍贵的东西给我拿来，”上帝对他的一个天使说；天使便把铅心和死鸟带到上帝面前。
“你选得不错，”上帝说，“因为我可以让这只小鸟永远在我天堂的园子里歌唱，让快乐王子住在我的金城里赞美我。”
THE HAPPY PRINCE
High above the city, on a tall column, stood the statue of the Happy Prince. He was gilded all over with thin leaves of fine gold, for eyes he had two bright sapphires, and a large red ruby glowed on his sword-hilt.
He was very much admired indeed. “He is as beautiful as a weathercock,” remarked one of the Town Councillors who wished to gain a reputation for having artistic tastes: “only not quite so useful,” he added, fearing lest people should think him unpractical, which he really was not.
“Why can't you be like the Happy Prince?” asked a sensible mother of her little boy who was crying for the moon. “The Happy Prince never dreams of crying for anything.”
“I am glad there is someone in the world who is quite happy,” muttered a disappointed man as he gazed at the wonderful statue.
“He looks just like an angel,” said the Charity Children as they came out of the cathedral in their bright scarlet cloaks and their clean white pinafores.
“How do you know?” said the Mathematical Master, “you have never seen one.”
“Ah! but we have, in our dreams,” answered the children: and the Mathematical Master frowned and looked very severe, for he did not approve of children dreaming.
One night there flew over the city a little Swallow. His friends had gone away to Egypt six weeks before, but he had stayed behind, for he was in love with the most beautiful Reed. He had met her early in the spring as he was flying down the river after a big yellow moth, and had been so attracted by her slender waist that he had stopped to talk to her.
“Shall I love you?” said the Swallow, who liked to come to the point at once, and the Reed made him a low bow. So he flew round and round her, touching the water with his wings, and making silver ripples. This was his courtship, and it lasted all through the summer.
“It is a ridiculous attachment,” twittered the other Swallows: “she has no money, and far too many relations:” and indeed the river was quite full of Reeds. Then, when the autumn came they all flew away.
After they had gone, he felt lonely, and began to tire of his lady-love. “She has no conversation,” he said, “and I am afraid that she is a coquette, for she is always flirting with the wind.” And certainly, whenever the wind blew, the Reed made the most graceful curtseys. “I admit that she is domestic,” he continued, “but I love travelling, and my wife, consequently, should love travelling also.”
“Will you come away with me?” he said finally to her: but the Reed shook her head, she was so attached to her home.
“You have been trifling with me,” he cried. “I am off to the Pyramids. Good-bye!” and he flew away.
All day long he flew, and at night-time he arrived at the city. “Where shall I put up?” he said: “I hope the town has made preparations.”
Then he saw the statue on the tall column.
“I will put up there,” he cried: “it is a fine position, with plenty of fresh air.” So he alighted just between the feet of the Happy Prince.
“I have a golden bedroom,” he said softly to himself as he looked round, and he prepared to go to sleep: but just as he was putting his head under his wing a large drop of water fell on him. “What a curious thing!” he cried: “there is not a single cloud in the sky, the stars are quite clear and bright, and yet it is raining. The climate in the north of Europe is really dreadful. The Reed used to like the rain, but that was merely her selfishness.”
Then another drop fell.
“What is the use of a statue if it cannot keep the rain off?” he said: “I must look for a good chimney-pot,” and he determined to fly away.
But before he had opened his wings, a third drop fell, and he looked up, and saw—Ah! what did he see?
The eyes of the Happy Prince were filled with tears, and tears were running down his golden cheeks. His face was so beautiful in the moonlight that the little Swallow was filled with pity.
“Who are you?” he said.
“I am the Happy Prince.”
“Why are you weeping then?” asked the Swallow: “you have quite drenched me.”
“When I was alive and had a human heart,” answered the statue, “I did not know what tears were, for I lived in the Palace of Sans-Souci, where sorrow is not allowed to enter. In the daytime I played with my companions in the garden, and in the evening I led the dance in the Great Hall. Round the garden ran a very lofty wall, but I never cared to ask what lay beyond it, everything about me was so beautiful. My courtiers called me the Happy Prince, and happy indeed I was, if pleasure be happiness. So I lived, and so I died. And now that I am dead they have set me up here so high that I can see all the ugliness and all the misery of my city, and though my heart is made of lead yet I cannot choose but weep.”
“What! is he not solid gold?” said the Swallow to himself. He was too polite to make any personal remarks out loud.
“Far away,” continued the statue in a low musical voice, “far away in a little street there is a poor house. One of the windows is open, and through it I can see a woman seated at a table. Her face is thin and worn, and she has coarse, red hands, all pricked by the needle, for she is a seamstress. She is embroidering passion-flowers on a satin gown for the loveliest of the Queen’s maids-of-honour to wear at the next Court-ball. In a bed in the corner of the room her little boy is lying ill. He has a fever, and is asking for oranges. His mother has nothing to give him but river water, so he is crying. Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow, will you not bring her the ruby out of my sword-hilt? My feet are fastened to this pedestal and I cannot move.”
“I am waited for in Egypt,” said the Swallow. “My friends are flying up and down the Nile, and talking to the large lotus-flowers. Soon they will go to sleep in the tomb of the great King. The King is there himself in his painted coffin. He is wrapped in yellow linen, and embalmed with spices. Round his neck is a chain of pale green jade, and his hands are like withered leaves.”
“Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow,” said the Prince, “will you not stay with me for one night, and be my messenger? The boy is so thirsty, and the mother so sad.”
“I don't think I like boys,” answered the Swallow. “Last summer, when I was staying on the river, there were two rude boys, the miller’s sons, who were always throwing stones at me. They never hit me, of course: we swallows fly far too well for that, and besides, I come of a family famous for its agility: but still, it was a mark of disrespect.”
But the Happy Prince looked so sad that the little Swallow was sorry. “It is very cold here,” he said: “but I will stay with you for one night, and be your messenger.”
“Thank you, little Swallow,” said the Prince.
So the Swallow picked out the great ruby from the Prince’s sword, and flew away with it in his beak over the roofs of the town.
He passed by the cathedral tower, where the white marble angels were sculptured. He passed by the palace and heard the sound of dancing. A beautiful girl came out on the balcony with her lover. “How wonderful the stars are,” he said to her, “and how wonderful is the power of love!”
“I hope my dress will be ready in time for the State-ball,” she answered: “I have ordered passion-flowers to be embroidered on it: but the seamstresses are so lazy.”
He passed over the river, and saw the lanterns hanging to the masts of the ships. He passed over the Ghetto, and saw the old Jews bargaining with each other, and weighing out money in copper scales. At last he came to the poor house and looked in. The boy was tossing feverishly on his bed, and the mother had fallen asleep, she was so tired. In he hopped, and laid the great ruby on the table beside the woman’s thimble. Then he flew gently round the bed, fanning the boy’s forehead with his wings. “How cool I feel!” said the boy, “I must be getting better:” and he sank into a delicious slumber.
Then the Swallow flew back to the Happy Prince, and told him what he had done. “It is curious,” he remarked, “but I feel quite warm now, although it is so cold.”
“That is because you have done a good action,” said the Prince. And the little Swallow began to think, and then he fell asleep. Thinking always made him sleepy.
When day broke he flew down to the river and had a bath. “What a remarkable phenomenon,” said the Professor of Ornithology as he was passing over the bridge. “A swallow in winter!” And he wrote a long letter about it to the local newspaper. Every one quoted it, it was full of so many words that they could not understand.
“To-night I go to Egypt,” said the Swallow, and he was in high spirits at the prospect. He visited all
the public monuments, and sat a long time on top of the church steeple. Wherever he went the Sparrows chirruped, and said to each other, “What a distinguished stranger!” so he enjoyed himself very much.
When the moon rose he flew back to the Happy Prince. “Have you any commissions for Egypt?” he cried: “I am just starting.”
“Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow,” said the Prince, “will you not stay with me one night longer?”
“I am waited for in Egypt,” answered the Swallow. “To-morrow my friends will fly up to the Second Cataract. The river-horse couches there among the bulrushes, and on a great granite throne sits the God Memnon. All night long he watches the stars, and when the morning star shines he utters one cry of joy, and then he is silent. At noon the yellow lions come down to the water’s edge to drink. They have eyes like green beryls, and their roar is louder than the roar of the cataract.”
“Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow,” said the Prince, “far away across the city I see a young man in a garret. He is leaning over a desk covered with papers, and in a tumbler by his side there is a bunch of withered violets. His hair is brown and crisp, and his lips are red as a pomegranate, and he has large and dreamy eyes. He is trying to finish a play for the Director of the Theatre, but he is too cold to write any more. There is no fire in the grate, and hunger has made him faint.”
“I will wait with you one night longer,” said the Swallow, who really had a good heart. “Shall I take him another ruby?”
“Alas! I have no ruby now,” said the Prince: “my eyes are all that I have left. They are made of rare sapphires, which were brought out of India a thousand years ago. Pluck out one of them and take it to him. He will sell it to the jeweller, and buy food and firewood, and finish his play.”
“Dear Prince,” said the Swallow, “I cannot do that”: and he began to weep.
“Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow,” said the Prince, “do as I command you.”
So the Swallow plucked out the Prince’s eye, and flew away to the student’s garret. It was easy enough to get in, as there was a hole in the roof. Through this he darted, and came into the room. The young man had his head buried in his hands, so he did not hear the flutter of the bird’s wings, and when he looked up he found the beautiful sapphire lying on the withered violets.
“I am beginning to be appreciated,” he cried: “this is from some great admirer. Now I can finish my play,” and he looked quite happy.
The next day the Swallow flew down to the harbour. He sat on the mast of a large vessel and watched the sailors hauling big chests out of the hold with ropes. “Heave a-hoy!” they shouted as each chest came up. “I am going to Egypt!” cried the Swallow, but nobody minded, and when the moon rose he flew back to the Happy Prince.
“I am come to bid you good-bye,” he cried.
“Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow,” said the Prince, “will you not stay with me one night longer?”
“It is winter,” answered the Swallow, “and the chill snow will soon be here. In Egypt the sun is warm on the green palm-trees, and the crocodiles lie in the mud and look lazily about them. My companions are building a nest in the Temple of Baalbec, and the pink and white doves are watching them, and cooing to each other. Dear Prince, I must leave you, but I will never forget you, and next spring I will bring you back two beautiful jewels in place of those you have given away. The ruby shall be redder than a red rose, and the sapphire shall be as blue as the great sea.”
“In the square below,” said the Happy Prince, “there stands a little match-girl. She has let her matches fall in the gutter, and they are all spoiled. Her father will beat her if she does not bring home some money, and she is crying. She has no shoes or stockings, and her little head is bare. Pluck out my other eye and give it to her, and her father will not beat her.”
“I will stay with you one night longer,” said the Swallow, “but I cannot pluck out your eye. You would be quite blind then.”
“Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow,” said the Prince, “do as I command you.”
So he plucked out the Prince’s other eye, and darted down with it. He swooped past the match-girl, and slipped the jewel into the palm of her hand. “What a lovely bit of glass!” cried the little girl: and she ran home, laughing.
Then the Swallow came back to the Prince. “You are blind now,” he said, “so I will stay with you always.”
“No, little Swallow,” said the poor Prince, “you must go away to Egypt.”
“I will stay with you always,” said the Swallow, and he slept at the Prince’s feet.
All the next day he sat on the Prince’s shoulder, and told him stories of what he had seen in strange lands. He told him of the red ibises, who stand in long rows on the banks of the Nile, and catch gold-fish in their beaks: of the Sphinx, who is as old as the world itself, and lives in the desert, and knows everything: of the merchants, who walk slowly by the side of their camels and carry amber beads in their hands: of the King of the Mountains of the Moon, who is as black as ebony, and worships a large crystal: of the great green snake that sleeps in a palm tree, and has twenty priests to feed it with honey-cakes: and of the pygmies who sail over a big lake on large flat leaves, and are always at war with the butterflies.
“Dear little Swallow,” said the Prince, “you tell me of marvellous things, but more marvellous than anything is the suffering of men and of women. There is no Mystery so great as Misery. Fly over my city, little Swallow, and tell me what you see there.”
So the Swallow flew over the great city, and saw the rich making merry in their beautiful houses, while the beggars were sitting at the gates. He flew into dark lanes, and saw the white faces of starving children looking out listlessly at the black streets. Under the archway of a bridge two little boys were lying in one another’s arms to try and keep themselves warm. “How hungry we are!” they said. “You must not lie here,” shouted the Watchman, and they wandered out into the rain.
Then he flew back and told the Prince what he had seen.
“I am covered with fine gold,” said the Prince, “you must take it off, leaf by leaf, and give it to my poor: the living always think that gold can make them happy.”
Leaf after leaf of the fine gold the Swallow picked off, till the Happy Prince looked quite dull and grey. Leaf after leaf of the fine gold he brought to the poor, and the children’s faces grew rosier, and they laughed and played games in the street. “We have bread now!” they cried.
Then the snow came, and after the snow came the frost. The streets looked as if they were made of silver, they were so bright and glistening: long icicles like crystal daggers hung down from the eaves of the houses, everybody went about in furs, and 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 little better 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.”
