The Happy Prince Oscar Wilde

"No, little Swallow," said the poor Prince, "you must go away to Egypt."

"I will stay with you always," said the Swallow, and he slept at the Prince's feet.

All the next day he sat on the Prince's shoulder, and told him stories of all the wonderful things that he had seen in far away lands.

"Dear little Swallow," said the Prince, "you tell me of wonderful things, but look at the suffering of men and women. Fly over my city, little Swallow, and tell me what you see there."

So the Swallow flew over the great city, and saw the rich people in their beautiful houses, while the poor ones were sitting at the gates. He flew into dark streets, and saw the white faces of hungry children.

Then he flew back and told the Prince what he had seen.

"I am covered with fine gold," said the Prince, "you must take it off, piece by piece, and give it to the poor. The living always think that gold can make them happy."

The Swallow picked off piece after piece of the fine gold, till the Happy Prince looked quite grey. He brought the gold to the children, and their faces grew brighter, and they laughed and played games in the street. "We have bread now!" they cried.

Then the snow came, and after the snow came the frost. Everybody wore warm clothes and the boys skated on the ice.

The poor little Swallow grew colder and colder, but he would not leave the Prince, he loved him so much. He picked up crumbs outside the baker's door when the baker was not looking and tried to keep himself warm by waving his wings.

But at last he knew that he was going to die. He had just strength to fly up to the Prince's shoulder once more. "Goodbye, dear Prince!" he said, "will you let me kiss your hand?"

"I am glad that you are finally going to Egypt, little Swallow," said the Prince, "you have stayed too long here. But you must kiss me on the lips, for I love you."

"It is not to Egypt where I am going," said the Swallow. "I am going to the House of Death."

And he kissed the Happy Prince on the lips, and fell down dead at his feet.

At that moment the metal heart inside of the statue broke into two pieces.

Early the next morning the Mayor was walking in the square below with the Town Councillors. They looked at the statue and cried: "Look at the Happy Prince, how ugly he is! The jewels are gone and he is not golden any more." The Councillors agreed with him.

"And here is actually a dead bird at his feet!" continued the Mayor. "Surely birds must not die here!"

So they pulled down the statue of the Happy Prince. "Because he is not beautiful, he is not useful," said the Professor at the University.

Then they melted the statue decided what to do with the metal. "We must have another statue, of course," the Mayor said, "and it shall be a statue of myself."

"Of myself," said each of the Town Councillors, and they argued. When I last heard of them they were still arguing.

"What a strange thing!" said one of the workmen. "This broken heart will not melt. We must throw it away." So they threw it where the dead Swallow was lying.