A ROSE FROM HOMERS GRAVE

英语自学网

A ROSE FROM HOMERS GRAVE
　　    1872
　　    FAIRY TALES OF HANS CHRISTIAN ANDERSEN
　　    A ROSE FROM HOMER'S GRAVE
　　    by Hans Christian Andersen
　　    ALL the songs of the east speak of the love of the nightingale for the rose in the silent starlight night. The winged songster serenades the fragrant flowers.
　　    Not far from Smyrna, where the merchant drives his loaded
　　    camels, proudly arching their long necks as they journey beneath the
　　    lofty pines over holy ground, I saw a hedge of roses. The
　　    turtle-dove flew among the branches of the tall trees, and as the
　　    sunbeams fell upon her wings, they glistened as if they were
　　    mother-of-pearl. On the rose-bush grew a flower, more beautiful than
　　    them all, and to her the nightingale sung of his woes; but the rose
　　    remained silent, not even a dewdrop lay like a tear of sympathy on her
　　    leaves. At last she bowed her head over a heap of stones, and said,
　　    "Here rests the greatest singer in the world; over his tomb will I
　　    spread my fragrance, and on it I will let my leaves fall when the
　　    storm scatters them. He who sung of Troy became earth, and from that earth I have sprung. I, a rose from the grave of Homer, am too lofty to bloom for a nightingale." Then the nightingale sung himself to
　　    death. A camel-driver came by, with his loaded camels and his black
　　    slaves; his little son found the dead bird, and buried the lovely
　　    songster in the grave of the great Homer, while the rose trembled in
　　    the wind.
　　    The evening came, and the rose wrapped her leaves more closely
　　    round her, and dreamed: and this was her dream.
　　    It was a fair sunshiny day; a crowd of strangers drew near who had
　　    undertaken a pilgrimage to the grave of Homer. Among the strangers was a minstrel from the north, the home of the clouds and the brilliant
　　    lights of the aurora borealis. He plucked the rose and placed it in
　　    a book, and carried it away into a distant part of the world, his
　　    fatherland. The rose faded with grief, and lay between the leaves of
　　    the book, which he opened in his own home, saying, "Here is a rose
　　    from the grave of Homer."
　　    Then the flower awoke from her dream, and trembled in the wind.
            
            

ensix

分页标题#e#
　　    A drop of dew fell from the leaves upon the singer's grave. The sun
　　    rose, and the flower bloomed more beautiful than ever. The day was
　　    hot, and she was still in her own warm Asia. Then footsteps
　　    approached, strangers, such as the rose had seen in her dream, came
　　    by, and among them was a poet from the north; he plucked the rose,
　　    pressed a kiss upon her fresh mouth, and carried her away to the
　　    home of the clouds and the northern lights. Like a mummy, the flower
　　    now rests in his "Iliad," and, as in her dream, she hears him say,
　　    as he opens the book, "Here is a rose from the grave of Homer."
　　    THE END
　　    LastIndexNext
　　    Written By Anderson