Latest / Hans Christian Andersen Fairytales & Short Stories Vol. 1 / 026 - A Rose from Homers Grave

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026 - A Rose from Homers Grave · Hans Christian Andersen Fairytales & Short Stories Vol. 1

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  Speaker 1: Section twenty six of Hans Christian Andersen Fairy Tales and
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  Speaker 1: Short Stories, Volume one. This is a LibriVox recording. All
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  Speaker 1: LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information
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  Speaker 1: or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox dot org. Recording by
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  Speaker 1: Ginger Cuckoloo. Hans Christian Andersen Fairy Tales in Short Stories,
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  Speaker 1: Volume one, eighteen thirty five to eighteen forty two by
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  Speaker 1: Hans Christian Andersen, translated by H. P. Paul A Rose
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  Speaker 1: from Homer's Grave. All the songs of the East speak
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  Speaker 1: of the love of the nightingale for the rose. In
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  Speaker 1: the silent starlight night. The winged songsters serenades of fragrant flowers.
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  Speaker 1: Not far from Smyrna, where the merchant drives his loaded camels,
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  Speaker 1: proudly arching their long necks as they journey beneath the
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  Speaker 1: lofty pines over holy ground. I saw a hedge of roses.
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  Speaker 1: The turtle dove flew among the branches of the tall trees,
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  Speaker 1: and as the sunbeams fell upon her wings, they glistened
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  Speaker 1: as if they were mother of pearl. On the rose
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  Speaker 1: bush grew a flower more beautiful than them all, and
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  Speaker 1: to her the nightingale sung of his woes, but the
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  Speaker 1: rose remained silent. Not even a dewdrop lay like a
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  Speaker 1: tear of sympathy on her leaves. At last, she bowed
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  Speaker 1: her head over a heap of stones, and said, here
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  Speaker 1: rests the greatest singer in the world, over his tomb.
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  Speaker 1: While I spread my fragrance, and on it, I will
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  Speaker 1: let my leaves fall when the storm scatters them. He
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  Speaker 1: who sung of Troy became earth, and from that earth
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  Speaker 1: I have sprung. I arose from the grave of Homer.
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  Speaker 1: Am too lofty to bloom for a nightingale. Then the
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  Speaker 1: nightingale sung himself to death. A camel driver came by
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  Speaker 1: with his loaded camels and his black slaves. His little
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  Speaker 1: son found the dead bird and buried the lovely songster
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  Speaker 1: in the grave of the great Homer, while the rose
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  Speaker 1: trembled in the wind. The evening came, and the rose
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  Speaker 1: wrapped her leaves more closely round her and dreamed. And
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  Speaker 1: this was her dream. It was a fair, sunshiny day.
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  Speaker 1: A crowd of strangers drew near, who had undertaken a
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  Speaker 1: pilgrimage to the grave of Homer. Among the strangers was
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  Speaker 1: a minstrel from the north, the home of the clouds
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  Speaker 1: and the brilliant lights of the Aurora borealis. He plucked
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  Speaker 1: the rose and placed it in a book, and carried
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  Speaker 1: it away into a distant part of the world, his fatherland.
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  Speaker 1: The rose faded with grief and lay between the leaves
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  Speaker 1: of the book, which he opened in his own home, saying,
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  Speaker 1: here as a rose from the grave of Homer. Then
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  Speaker 1: the flower awoke from her dream and trembled in the wind.
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  Speaker 1: A drop of dew fell from the leaves upon the
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  Speaker 1: singer's grave. The sun rose, and the flower bloomed more
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  Speaker 1: beautiful than ever. The day was hot, and she was
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  Speaker 1: still in her own warm asia. Then footsteps approached. Strangers
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  Speaker 1: such as a rose had seen in her dream, came by,
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  Speaker 1: and among them was a poet from the north. He
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  Speaker 1: plucked the rose, pressed a kiss upon her fresh mouth,
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  Speaker 1: and carried her away to the home of the clouds
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  Speaker 1: and the northern lights like a mummy. The flower now
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  Speaker 1: rests in his iliad, and as in her dream, she
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  Speaker 1: hears him say, as he opens a book, here is
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  Speaker 1: a rose from the grave of Homer. End of a
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  Speaker 1: Rose from Homer's Grave. Recording by Ginger cuckoloa