High above the city, on a tall column, stood the statue of the Happy Prince. He was gilded all over with thin leaves of fine gold, for eyes he had two bright sapphires, and a large red ruby glowed on his sword-hilt.

He was very much admired indeed.

“He is as beautiful as a weathercock,” remarked one of the Town Councillors who wished to gain a reputation for having artistic tastes; “only not quite so useful,” he added, fearing lest people should think him unpractical, which he really was not.

“Why can’t you be like the Happy Prince?” asked a sensible mother of her little boy who was crying for the moon. “The Happy Prince never dreams of crying for anything.”

“I am glad there is some one in the world who is quite happy,” muttered a disappointed man as he gazed at the wonderful statue.

“He looks just like an angel,” said the Charity Children as they came out of the cathedral in their bright scarlet cloaks and their clean white pinafores.

“How do you know?” said the Mathematical Master, “you have never seen one.”

“Ah! but we have, in our dreams,” answered the children; and the Mathematical Master frowned and looked very severe, for he did not approve of children dreaming.

One night there flew over the city a little Swallow. His friends had gone away to Egypt six weeks before, but he had stayed behind, for he was in love with the most beautiful Reed. He had met her early in the spring as he was flying down the river after a big yellow moth, and had been so attracted by her slender waist that he had stopped to talk to her.

“Shall I love you?” said the Swallow, who liked to come to the point at once, and the Reed made him a low bow. So he flew round and round her, touching the water with his wings, and making silver ripples. This was his courtship, and it lasted all through the summer.

“It is a ridiculous attachment,” twittered the other Swallows; “she has no money, and far too many relations”; and indeed the river was quite full of Reeds. Then, when the autumn came they all flew away.

After they had gone he felt lonely, and began to tire of his lady-love. “She has no conversation,” he said, “and I am afraid that she is a coquette, for she is always flirting with the wind.” And certainly, whenever the wind blew, the Reed made the most graceful curtseys. “I admit that she is domestic,” he continued, “but I love travelling, and my wife, consequently, should love travelling also.”

“Will you come away with me?” he said finally to her; but the Reed shook her head, she was so attached to her home.

“You have been trifling with me,” he cried. “I am off to the Pyramids. Good-bye!” and he flew away.

All day long he flew, and at night-time he arrived at the city. “Where shall I put up?” he said; “I hope the town has made preparations.”

Then he saw the statue on the tall column.

“I will put up there,” he cried; “it is a fine position, with plenty of fresh air.” So he alighted just between the feet of the Happy Prince.

“I have a golden bedroom,” he said softly to himself as he looked round, and he prepared to go to sleep; but just as he was putting his head under his wing a large drop of water fell on him.

“What a curious thing!” he cried; “there is not a single cloud in the sky, the stars are quite clear and bright, and yet it is raining. The climate in the north of Europe is really dreadful. The Reed used to like the rain, but that was merely her selfishness.”

Then another drop fell.

“What is the use of a statue if it cannot keep the rain off?” he said; “I must look for a good chimney-pot,” and he determined to fly away.

But before he had opened his wings, a third drop fell, and he looked up, and saw—Ah! what did he see?

The eyes of the Happy Prince were filled with tears, and tears were running down his golden cheeks. His face was so beautiful in the moonlight that the little Swallow was filled with pity.

“Who are you?” he said.

“I am the Happy Prince.”

“Why are you weeping then?” asked the Swallow; “you have quite drenched me.”

“When I was alive and had a human heart,” answered the statue, “I did not know what tears were, for I lived in the Palace of Sans-Souci, where sorrow is not allowed to enter. In the daytime I played with my companions in the garden, and in the evening I led the dance in the Great Hall. Round the garden ran a very lofty wall, but I never cared to ask what lay beyond it, everything about me was so beautiful. My courtiers called me the Happy Prince, and happy indeed I was, if pleasure be happiness. So I lived, and so I died. And now that I am dead they have set me up here so high that I can see all the ugliness and all the misery of my city, and though my heart is made of lead yet I cannot chose but weep.”

“What! is he not solid gold?” said the Swallow to himself. He was too polite to make any personal remarks out loud.

“Far away,” continued the statue in a low musical voice, “far away in a little street there is a poor house. One of the windows is open, and through it I can see a woman seated at a table. Her face is thin and worn, and she has coarse, red hands, all pricked by the needle, for she is a seamstress. She is embroidering passion-flowers on a satin gown for the loveliest of the Queen’s maids-of-honour to wear at the next Court-ball. In a bed in the corner of the room her little boy is lying ill. He has a fever, and is asking for oranges. His mother has nothing to give him but river water, so he is crying. Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow, will you not bring her the ruby out of my sword-hilt? My feet are fastened to this pedestal and I cannot move.”

“I am waited for in Egypt,” said the Swallow. “My friends are flying up and down the Nile, and talking to the large lotus-flowers. Soon they will go to sleep in the tomb of the great King. The King is there himself in his painted coffin. He is wrapped in yellow linen, and embalmed with spices. Round his neck is a chain of pale green jade, and his hands are like withered leaves.”

“Swallow, Swallow, little Swallow,” said the Prince, “will you not stay with me for one night, and be my messenger? The boy is so thirsty, and the mother so sad.”

“I don’t think I like boys,” answered the Swallow. “Last summer, when I was staying on the river, there were two rude boys, the miller’s sons, who were always throwing stones at me. They never hit me, of course; we swallows fly far too well for that, and besides, I come of a family famous for its agility; but still, it was a mark of disrespect.

was sorry. “It is very cold here,” he said; “but I

little Swallow,”

from the Prince’s sword, and flew away with

palace and heard the sound of dancing. A beautiful girl came out on the balcony with her

for the State-ball,” she answered; “I have ordered passion-flowers

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,

boy, “I must be getting better”;

told him what he had done. “It is curious,” he

said the Prince. And the little Swallow began to

of Ornithology as he was passing over the bridge. “A swallow in winter!” And he wrote a long letter about

visited all the public monuments, and sat a long time on top of the church steeple. Wherever he

to the Happy Prince. “Have you any

the Prince, “will you not

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.

tumbler by his side there is a bunch of withered violets. His hair is brown and crisp, and his lips are red as a pomegranate, and he has large and dreamy eyes. He

longer,” said the Swallow, who really had

made of rare sapphires, which were brought out of India a thousand years ago. Pluck out one of them

Swallow, “I cannot do

said the Prince, “do

a hole in the roof. Through this he darted, and came into the room. The young man had his head buried in his hands, so

“this is from some great admirer. Now I

the sailors hauling big chests out of the hold with ropes. “Heave a-hoy!” they shouted as each chest came up. “I

to bid you

the Prince, “will you not

companions are building a nest in the Temple of Baalbec, and the pink and white doves are watching them, and cooing to each other. Dear Prince, I must leave you, but I will never forget you, and

are all spoiled. Her father will beat her if she does not bring home some money, and she is crying. She has no shoes

said the Swallow, “but I cannot pluck out

said the Prince, “do

swooped past the match-girl, and slipped the jewel into the palm of her hand.

Prince. “You are blind now,” he said,

the poor Prince, “you

always,” said the Swallow, and

Sphinx, who is as old as the world itself, and lives in the desert, and knows everything; of the merchants, who walk slowly by the side of their camels, and carry amber beads in their hands; of the King of the Mountains of the Moon, who is as

than anything is the suffering of men and of women. There is no Mystery so

the white faces of starving children looking out listlessly at the black streets. Under the archway of a bridge two little boys were lying in one another’s arms to try and keep themselves

take it off, leaf by leaf, and give it to my

dull and grey. Leaf after leaf of the fine gold he brought to the poor, and the

of silver, they were so bright and glistening; long icicles like crystal daggers hung down from the eaves of

Prince, he loved him too well. He picked up crumbs outside the baker’s door

had just strength to fly up to the Prince’s shoulder once more.

little Swallow,” said the Prince, “you have stayed too long here;

said the Swallow. “I am going to the House

Prince on the lips, and

if something had broken. The fact is that the leaden heart

company with the Town Councillors. As they passed the column he looked up

who always agreed with the Mayor; and

are gone, and he is golden no longer,” said the

a beggar,” said

“We must really issue a proclamation that birds are not to be allowed

Prince. “As he is no longer beautiful he is

of the Corporation to decide what was to be done with the metal. “We

Councillors, and they quarrelled. When I last

broken lead heart will not melt in the furnace. We must throw it away.”

city,” said God to one of His Angels; and

of Paradise this little bird shall sing for evermore, and

and emotions? Read our review of the Ten

your child? Read our review of the Ten Best Children’s Picture

Chat About The Stories ~

is smiling, and yet he is sad. Have you ever smiled

of the city, but in doing so, the swallow lost his chance to fly to a

to help the Happy Prince even though he

Prince gave away his eyes and beauty

difference to the poor people who received them? In what ways

everything was beautiful and he was never sad. Do you think his statue should also

the dead swallow and the Happy Prince’s heart

Information! No