'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 lace 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 market-place. it may not be purchased of the merchants, 'or can it be
weighed out in the balance for gold.'
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