第3部分(第4/7 頁)

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

15

The　Happy　Prince　and　Other　Tales

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