American prose literature; English prose literature; Narration (Rhetoric)
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.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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