the nightingale and the rose-第1部分
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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 me
by。 She will have no heed of me; and my heart will break。〃
〃Here indeed is the true lover;〃 said the Nightingale。 〃What I
sing of; he suffers … what is joy to me; to him is pain。 Surely
Love is a wonderful thing。 It is more precious than emeralds; and
dearer than fine opals。 Pearls and pomegranates cannot buy it; nor
is it set forth in the marketplace。 It may not be purchased of the
merchants; nor can it be weighed out in the balance for gold。〃
〃The musicians will sit in their gallery;〃 said the young Student;
〃and play upon their stringed instruments; and my love will dance
to the sound of the harp and the violin。 She will dance so lightly
that her feet will not touch the floor; and the courtiers in their
gay dresses will throng round her。 But with me she will not dance;
for I have no red rose to give her〃; and he flung himself down on
the grass; and buried his face in his hands; and wept。
〃Why is he weeping?〃 asked a little Green Lizard; as he ran past
him with his tail in the air。
〃Why; indeed?〃 said a Butterfly; who was fluttering about after a
sunbeam。
〃Why; indeed?〃 whispered a Daisy to his neighbour; in a soft; low
voice。
〃He is weeping for a red rose;〃 said the Nightingale。
〃For a red rose?〃 they cried; 〃how very ridiculous!〃 and the little
Lizard; who was something of a cynic; laughed outright。
But the Nightingale understood the secret of the Student's sorrow;
and she sat silent in the oak…tree; and thought about the mystery
of Love。
Suddenly she spread her brown wings for flight; and soared into the
air。 She passed through the grove like a shadow; and like a shadow
she sailed across the garden。
In the centre of the grass…plot was standing a beautiful Rose…tree;
and when she saw it she flew over to it; and lit upon a spray。
〃Give me a red rose;〃 she cried; 〃and I will sing you my sweetest
song。〃
But the Tree shook its head。
〃My roses are white;〃 it answered; 〃as white as the foam of the
sea; and whiter than the snow upon the mountain。 But go to my
brother who grows round the old sun…dial; and perhaps he will give
you what you want。〃
So the Nightingale flew over to the Rose…tree that was growing
round the old sun…dial。
〃Give me a red rose;〃 she cried; 〃and I will sing you my sweetest
song。〃
But the Tree shook its head。
〃My roses are yellow;〃 it answered; 〃as yellow as the hair of the
mermaiden who sits upon an amber throne; and yellower than the
daffodil that blooms in the meadow before the mower comes with his
scythe。 But go to my brother who grows beneath the Student's
window; and perhaps he will give you what you want。〃
So the Nightingale flew over to the Rose…tree that was growing
beneath the Student's window。
〃Give me a red rose;〃 she cried; 〃and I will sing you my sweetest
song。〃
But the Tree shook its head。
〃My roses are red;〃 it answered; 〃as red as the feet of the dove;
and redder than the great fans of coral that wave and wave in the
ocean…cavern。 But the winter has chilled my veins; and the frost
has nipped my buds; and the storm has broken my branches; and I
shall have no roses at all this year。〃
〃One red rose is all I want;〃 cried the Nightingale; 〃only one red
rose! Is there no way by which I can get it?〃
〃There is away;〃 answered the Tree; 〃but it is so terrible that I
dare not tell it to you。〃
〃Tell it to me;〃 said the Nightingale; 〃I am not afraid。〃
〃If you want a red rose;〃 said the Tree; 〃you must build it out of
music by moonlight; and stain it with your own heart's…blood。 You
must sing to me with your breast against a thorn。 All night long
you must sing to me; and the thorn must pierce your heart; and your
life…blood must flow into my veins; and become mine。〃
〃Death is a great price to pay for a red rose;〃 cried the
Nightingale; 〃and Life is very dear to all。 It is pleasant to sit
in the green wood; and to watch the Sun in his chariot of gold; and
the Moon in her chariot of pearl。 Sweet is the scent of the
hawthorn; and sweet are the bluebells that hide in the valley; and
the heather that blows on the hill。 Yet Love is better than Life;
and what is the heart of a bird compared to the heart of a man?〃
So she spread her brown wings for flight; and soared into the air。
She swept over the garden like a shadow; and like a shadow she
sailed through the grove。
The young Student was still lying on the grass; where she had left
him; and the tears were not yet dry in his beautiful eyes。
〃Be happy;〃 cried the Nightingale; 〃be happy; you shall have your
red rose。 I will build it out of music by moonlight; and stain it
with my own heart's…blood。 All that I ask of you in return is that
you will be a true lover; for Love is wiser than Philosophy; though
she is wise; and mightier than Power; though he is mighty。 Flame…
coloured are his wings; and coloured like flame is his body。 His
lips are sweet as honey; and his breath is like frankincense。〃
The Student looked up from the grass; and listened; but he could
not understand what the Nightingale was saying to him; for he only
knew the things that are written down in books。
But the Oak…tree understood; and felt sad; for he was very fond of
the little Nightingale who had built her nest in his branches。
〃Sing me one last song;〃 he whispered; 〃I shall feel very lonely
when you are gone。〃
So the Nightingale sang to the Oak…tree; and her voice was like
water bubbling from a silver jar。
When she had finished her song the Student got up; and pulled a
note…book and a lead…pencil out of his pocket。
〃She has form;〃 he said to himself; as he walked away through the
grove … 〃that cannot be denied to her; but has she got feeling? I
am afraid not。 In fact; she is like most artists; she is all
style; without any sincerity。 She would not sacrifice herself for
others。 She thinks merely of music; and everybody knows that the
arts are selfish。 Still; it must be admitted that she has some
beautiful notes in her voice。 What a pity it is that they do not
mean anything; or do any practical good。〃 And he went into his
room; and lay down on his little pallet…bed; and began to think of
his love; and; after a time; he fell asleep。
And when the Moon shone in the heavens the Nightingale flew to the
Rose…tree; and set her breast against the thorn。 All night long
she sang with her breast against the thorn; and the cold crystal
Moon leaned down and listened。 All night long she sang; and the
thorn went deeper and deeper into her breast; and her life…blood
ebbed away from her。
She sang first of the birth of love in the heart of a boy and a
girl。 And on the top…most spray of the Rose…tree there blossomed a
marvellous rose; petal following petal; as song followed song。
Pale was it; at first; as the mist that hangs over the river … pale
as the feet of the morning; and silver as the wings of the dawn。
As the shadow of a rose in a mirror of silver; as the shadow of a
rose in a water…pool; so was the rose that blossomed on the topmost
spray of the Tree。
But the Tree cried to the Nightingale to press closer against the
thorn。 〃Press closer; little Nightingale;〃 cried the Tree; 〃or the
Day will come before the rose is finished。〃
So the Nightingale pressed closer against the thorn; and louder and
louder grew her song; for she sang of the birth of passion in the
soul of a man and a maid。
And a delicate flush of pink came into the leaves of the rose; like
the flush in the face of the bridegroom when he kisses the lips of
the bride。 But the thorn had not yet reached her heart; so the
rose's heart remained white; for only a Nightingale's heart's…blood
can crimson the heart of a rose。
And the Tree cried to the Nightingale to press closer against the
thorn。 〃Press closer; little Nightingale;〃 cried the Tree; 〃or the
Day will come before the rose is finished。〃
So the Nightingale pressed closer against the thorn; and the thorn
touched her heart; and a fierce pang of pain shot through her。
Bitter; bitter was the pain; and wilder and wilder grew her song;
for she sang of the Love that is perfected by Death; of the Love
that dies not in the tomb。
And the marvellous rose became crimson; like the rose of the
eastern sky。 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 ey