Oscar Wilde

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.'
rom her nest in the holm!oa" tree the Nightingale heard him, and she loo"ed out
through the lea#es, and wondered.
'No red rose in all my garden$' he cried, and his beautiful eyes filled with tears. '%h, on
what little things does ha&&iness de&end$ I ha#e read all that the wise men ha#e written,
and all the secrets of &hiloso&hy are mine, yet for want of a red rose is my life made
wretched.'
''ere at last is a true lo#er,' said the Nightingale. 'Night after night ha#e I sung of him,
though I "new him not( night after night ha#e I told his story to the stars, and now I see
him. 'is hair is dar" as the hyacinth!blossom, and his li&s are red as the rose of his
desire; but &assion has made his lace li"e &ale I#ory, and sorrow has set her seal u&on his
brow.'
'The )rince gi#es a ball to!morrow night,' murmured the young Student, 'and my lo#e
will be of the com&any. 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 u&on my
shoulder, and her hand will be clas&ed in mine. *ut there is no red rose in my garden, so I
shall sit lonely, and she will &ass me by. She will ha#e no heed of me, and my heart will
brea".'
''ere indeed is the true lo#er,' said the Nightingale. 'What I sing of he suffers( what is
+oy to me, to him is &ain. Surely ,o#e is a wonderful thing. It is more &recious than
emeralds, and dearer than fine o&als. )earls and &omegranates cannot buy it, nor is it set
forth in the mar"et!&lace. it may not be &urchased of the merchants, 'or can it be weighed
out in the balance for gold.'
'The musicians will sit in their gallery,' said the young Student, 'and &lay u&on their
stringed instruments, and my lo#e will dance to the sound of the har& and the #iolin. She
will dance so lightly that her feet will not touch the floor, and the courtiers in their gay
dresses will throng round her. *ut with me she will not dance, for I ha#e no red rose to
gi#e her;' and he flung himself down on the grass, and buried his face in his hands, and
we&t.
'Why is he wee&ing-' as"ed a little .reen ,i/ard, as he ran &ast him with his tail in the
air.
'Why, indeed-' said a *utterfly, who was fluttering about after a sunbeam.
'Why, indeed-' whis&ered a 0aisy to his neighbour, in a soft, low #oice.
''e is wee&ing for a red rose,' said the Nightingale.
'or a red rose$' they cried; 'how #ery ridiculous$' and the little ,i/ard, who was
something of a cynic, laughed outright.
*ut the Nightingale understood the secret of the Student's sorrow, and she sat silent in
the oa"!tree, and thought about the mystery of ,o#e.
Suddenly she s&read her brown wings for flight, and soared into the air. She &assed
through the gro#e li"e a shadow, and li"e a shadow she sailed across the garden.
In the centre of the grass!&lot was standing a beautiful Rose!tree, and when she saw it,
she flew o#er to it, and lit u&on a s&ray.
'.i#e me a red rose,' she cried, 'and I will sing you my sweetest song.'
*ut the Tree shoo" its head.
'1y roses are white,' it answered; 'as white as the foam of the sea, and whiter than the
snow u&on the mountain. *ut go to my brother who grows round the old sun!dial, and
&erha&s he will gi#e you what you want.'
So the Nightingale flew o#er to the Rose!tree that was growing round the old sun!dial.
'.i#e me a red rose,' she cried, 'and I will sing you my sweetest song.'
*ut the Tree shoo" its head.
'1y roses are yellow,' it answered; 'as yellow as the hair of the mermaiden who sits
u&on an amber throne, and yellower than the daffodil that blooms in the meadow before
the mower comes with his scythe. *ut go to my brother who grows beneath the Student's
window, and &erha&s he will gi#e you what you want.'
So the Nightingale flew o#er to the Rose!tree that was growing beneath the Student's
window.
'.i#e me a red rose,' she cried, 'and I will sing you my sweetest song.'
*ut the Tree shoo" its head.
'1y roses are red,' it answered, 'as red as the feet of the do#e, and redder than the great
fans of coral that wa#e and wa#e in the ocean!ca#ern. *ut the winter has chilled my
#eins, and the frost has ni&&ed my buds, and the storm has bro"en my branches, and I
shall ha#e 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 a way,' 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. 2ou must sing to me with your breast against a
thorn. %ll night long you must sing to me, and the thorn must &ierce your heart, and your
life!blood must flow into my #eins, and become mine.'
'0eath is a great &rice to &ay for a red rose,' cried the Nightingale, 'and ,ife is #ery
dear to all. It is &leasant to sit in the green wood, and to watch the Sun in his chariot of
gold, and the 1oon in her chariot of &earl. Sweet is the scent of the hawthorn, and sweet
are the bluebells that hide in the #alley, and the heather that blows on the hill. 2et ,o#e is
better than ,ife, and what is the heart of a bird com&ared to the heart of a man-'
So she s&read her brown wings for flight, and soared into the air. She swe&t o#er the
garden li"e a shadow, and li"e a shadow she sailed through the gro#e.
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.
'*e ha&&y,' cried the Nightingale, 'be ha&&y; you shall ha#e your red rose. I will build
it out of music by moonlight, and stain it with my own heart's!blood. %ll that I as" of you
in return is that you will be a true lo#er, for ,o#e is wiser than )hiloso&hy, though she is
wise, and mightier than )ower, though he is mighty. lame!coloured are his wings, and
coloured li"e flame is his body. 'is li&s are sweet as honey, and his breath is li"e
fran"incense.'
The Student loo"ed u& from the grass, and listened, but he could not understand what
the Nightingale was saying to him, for he only "new the things that are written down in
boo"s.
*ut the Oa"!tree understood, and felt sad, for he was #ery fond of the little
Nightingale who had built her nest in his branches.
'Sing me one last song,' he whis&ered; 'I shall feel #ery lonely when you are gone.'
So the Nightingale sang to the Oa"!tree, and her #oice was li"e water bubbling from a
sil#er +ar.
When she had finished her song the Student got li&, and &ulled a note!boo" and a lead!
&encil out of his &oc"et.
'She has form,' he said to himself, as he wal"ed away through the gro#e ! 'that cannot
be denied to her; but has she got feeling- I am afraid not. In fact, she is li"e most artists;
she is all style, without any sincerity. She would not sacrifice herself for others. She
thin"s merely of music, and e#erybody "nows that the arts are selfish. Still, it must be
admitted that she has some beautiful notes in her #oice. What a &ity it is that they do not
mean anything, or do any &ractical good.' %nd he went into his room, and lay down on his
little &allet!bed, and began to thin" of his lo#e; and, after a time, he fell aslee&.
%nd when the 1oon shone in the hea#ens the Nightingale flew to the Rose!tree, and
set her breast against the thorn. %ll night long she sang with her breast against the thorn,
and the cold crystal 1oon leaned down and listened. %ll night long she sang, and the
thorn went dee&er and dee&er into her breast, and her life!blood ebbed away from her.
She sang first of the birth of lo#e in the heart of a boy and a girl. %nd on the to&most
s&ray of the Rose!tree there blossomed a mar#ellous rose, &etal following &etal, as song
followed song. 2ale was it, at first, as the mist that hangs o#er the ri#er ! &ale as the feet
of the morning, and sil#er as the wings of the dawn. %s the shadow of a rose in a mirror
of sil#er, as the shadow of a rose in a water!&ool, so was the rose that blossomed on the
to&most s&ray of the Tree.
*ut the Tree cried to the Nightingale to &ress closer against the thorn. ')ress closer,
little Nightingale,' cried the Tree, 'or the 0ay will come before the rose is finished.'
So the Nightingale &ressed closer against the thorn, and louder and louder grew her
song, for she sang of the birth of &assion in the soul of a man and a maid.
%nd a delicate flush of &in" came into the lea#es of the rose, li"e the flush in the face
of the bridegroom when he "isses the li&s of the bride. *ut 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.
%nd the Tree cried to the Nightingale to &ress closer against the thorn. ')ress closer,
little Nightingale,' cried the Tree, 'or the 0ay will come before the rose is finished.'
So the Nightingale &ressed closer against the thorn, and the thorn touched her heart,
and a fierce &ang of &ain shot through her. *itter, bitter was the &ain, and wilder and
wilder grew her song, for she sang of the ,o#e that is &erfected by 0eath, of the ,o#e
that dies not in the tomb.
%nd the mar#ellous rose became crimson, li"e the rose of the eastern s"y. 3rimson
was the girdle of &etals, and crimson as a ruby was the heart.
*ut the Nightingale's #oice grew fainter, and her little wings began to beat, and a film
came o#er her eyes. ainter and fainter grew her song, and she felt something cho"ing her
in her throat.
Then she ga#e one last burst of music. The white 1oon heard it, and she forgot the
dawn, and lingered on in the s"y. The red rose heard it, and it trembled all o#er with
ecstasy, and o&ened its &etals to the cold morning air. 4cho bore it to her &ur&le ca#ern in
the hills, and wo"e the slee&ing she&herds from their dreams. It floated through the reeds
of the ri#er, and they carried its message to the sea.
',oo", loo"$' cried the Tree, 'the rose is finished now;' but the Nightingale made no
answer, for she was lying dead in the long grass, with the thorn in her heart.
%nd at noon the Student o&ened his window and loo"ed out.
'Why, what a wonderful &iece of luc"$ he cried; 'here is a red rose$ I ha#e ne#er seen
any rose li"e it in all my life. It is so beautiful that I am sure it has a long ,atin name;'
and he leaned down and &luc"ed it.
Then he &ut on his hat, and ran u& to the )rofessor's house with the rose in his hand.
The daughter of the )rofessor was sitting in the doorway winding blue sil" on a reel,
and her little dog was lying at her feet.
'2ou said that you would dance with me if I brought you a red rose,' cried the Student.
'ere is the reddest rose in all the world. 2ou will wear it to!night ne5t your heart, and as
we dance together it will tell you how I lo#e you.'
*ut the girl frowned.
'I am afraid it will not go with my dress,' she answered; 'and, besides, the
3hamberlain's ne&hew has sent me some real +ewels, and e#erybody "nows that +ewels
cost far more than flowers.'
'Well, u&on my word, you are #ery ungrateful,' said the Student angrily; and he threw
the rose into the street, where it fell into the gutter, and a cart!wheel went o#er it.
'6ngrateful$' said the girl. 'I tell you what, you are #ery rude; and, after all, who are
you- Only a Student. Why, I don't belie#e you ha#e e#en got sil#er buc"les to your shoes
as the 3hamberlain's ne&hew has;' and she got u& from her chair and went into the house.
'What a silly thing ,o#e is,' said the Student as he wal"ed away. 'It is not half as useful
as ,ogic, for it does not &ro#e anything, and it is always telling one of things that are not
going to ha&&en, and ma"ing one belie#e things that are not true. In fact, it is 7uite
un&ractical, and, as in this age to be &ractical is e#erything, I shall go bac" to )hiloso&hy
and study 1eta&hysics.'
So he returned to his room and &ulled out a great dusty boo", and began to read.