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"My roses are white," it answered; "as white as the foam of the sea, and whiter than the snow upon the mountain. But go to my brother who grows round the old sun-dial, and perhaps he will give you what you want." So the Nightingale flew over to the Rose-tree that was growing round the old sun-dial. "Give me a red rose," she cried, "and I will sing you my sweetest song."
Out of the earth there arose a power within me, whilst from above I also received strength; I felt an ever-renewed and ever-increasing happiness, and therefore I was obliged to go on blooming. That was my life; I could not do otherwise." "You have led a very easy life," remarked the snail. "Certainly. Everything was given me," said the rose-tree. "But still more was given to you.
And when the Moon shone in the heavens the Nightingale flew to the Rose-tree, and set her breast against the thorn. All night long she sang with her breast against the thorn, and the cold crystal Moon leaned down and listened. All night long she sang, and the thorn went deeper and deeper into her breast, and her life-blood ebbed away from her.
And this, then, was the land where, as the poets say, “the nightingale sings, and the rose-tree blossoms,” and where “a flower is crushed at every step!” More truth, we thought, in the Scotch traveler’s description, which divides Persia into two portions—“One desert with salt, and the other desert without salt.” In time we came to McGregor’s opinion as expressed in his description of Khorassan. “We should fancy,” said he, “a small green circle round every village indicated on the map, and shade all the rest in brown.” The mighty hosts whose onward sweep from the Indus westward was checked only by the Grecian phalanx upon the field of Marathon must have come from the scattered ruins around, which reminded us that “Iran was; she is no more.” Those myriad ranks of Yenghiz Khan and Tamerlane brought death and desolation from Turan to Iran, which so often met to act and react upon one another that both are now only landmarks in the sea of oblivion.
'It is more like May than January, said Ferdinand to his cousin. 'I fancy I should like to walk a little. 'Shall I send for Mr. Glastonbury? said Katherine. 'Not if my arm be not too heavy for you, said Ferdinand. So they walked slowly on, perhaps some fifty yards, until they arrived at a garden-seat, very near the rose-tree whose flowers Henrietta Temple so much admired.
By and by a bird slid softly from the heart of the tree, and dropped on the ground below out of sight. But Leonard heard its carol. It awoke its companions; wings began to glance in the air, and the clouds grew red towards the east. Leonard sighed and left the window. On the table, near Helen's rose-tree, which he bent over wistfully, lay a letter. He had not observed it before.
The incident of the sails belongs to Greek story the legend of AEgeus and Theseus; the magic potion may be found in ancient Persian romance; the interlocked rose-tree and vine over the grave of the lovers is an example of those floral auguries and testimonies which I have mentioned in connection with the legend of Tannhauser and the blossoming staff: in token of their innocence flowers spring miraculously from the graves of persons wrongly done to death.
Under this was a divan and silken cushions, and near it a small Moorish table of ebony inlaid with mother-of-pearl and gold. Over the opposite parapet, where a lattice had been set, rioted a trailing rose-tree charged with blood-red blossoms, though now their colours were merged into the all-encompassing greyness.
Indeed, the cupids with which the interior was decorated had been ornamented with mustaches in charcoal by the habitues; and Dame Fournichon, the landlady, always affirmed that the sign had brought them ill-luck, and that had her wishes been attended to, and the painting represented more pleasing things, such as the rose-tree of love surrounded by flaming hearts, all tender couples would have flocked to them.
Monsieur Goujet, it's too lovely!" said she, placing the rose-tree beside the other flowers which it overtopped with the whole of its tuft of foliage. "Not at all, not at all!" repeated he, unable to say anything else. Then, after sighing deeply, he slightly recovered himself and stated that she was not to expect his mother; she was suffering from an attack of sciatica.
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