theend.
1872
fairytalesofhanschristianandersen
theloveliestroseintheworld
byhanschristianandersen
therelivedonceagreatqueen,inwhosegardenwerefoundatallseasonsthemostsplendidflowers,andfromeverylandintheworld.shespeciallylovedroses,andthereforeshepossessedthemostbeautifulvarietiesofthisflower,fromthewildhedge-rose,withitsapple-scentedleaves,tothesplendidprovencerose.theygrewneartheshelterofthewalls,woundthemselvesroundcolumnsandwindow-frames,creptalongpassagesandovertheceilingsofthehalls.theywereofeveryfragranceandcolor.
butcareandsorrowdweltwithinthesehalls;thequeenlayuponasickbed,andthedoctorsdeclaredthatshemustdie."thereisstillonethingthatcouldsaveher,"saidoneofthewisestamongthem."bringhertheloveliestroseintheworld;onewhichexhibitsthepurestandbrightestlove,andifitisbroughttoherbeforehereyesclose,shewillnotdie."
thenfromallpartscamethosewhobroughtrosesthatbloomedineverygarden,buttheywerenottherightsort.theflowermustbeonefromthegardenoflove;butwhichoftherosesthereshowedforththehighestandpurestlove?thepoetssangofthisrose,theloveliestintheworld,andeachnamedonewhichheconsideredworthyofthattitle;andintelligenceofwhatwasrequiredwassentfarandwidetoeveryheartthatbeatwithlove;toeveryclass,age,andcondition.
"noonehasyetnamedtheflower,"saidthewiseman."noonehaspointedoutthespotwhereitbloomsinallitssplendor.itisnotarosefromthecoffinofromeoandjuliet,orfromthegraveofwalburg,thoughtheseroseswillliveineverlastingsong.itisnotoneoftheroseswhichsproutedforthfromtheblood-stainedfameofwinkelreid.thebloodwhichflowsfromthebreastofaherowhodiesforhiscountryissacred,andhismemoryissweet,andnorosecanberedderthanthebloodwhichflowsfromhisveins.neitherisitthemagicflowerofscience,toobtainwhichwondrousfloweramandevotesmanyanhourofhisfreshyounglifeinsleeplessnights,inalonelychamber."
"iknowwhereitblooms,"saidahappymother,whocamewithherlovelychildtothebedsideofthequeen."iknowwheretheloveliestroseintheworldis.itisseenonthebloomingcheeksofmysweetchild,whenitexpressesthepureandholyloveofinfancy;whenrefreshedbysleepitopensitseyes,andsmilesuponmewithchildlikeaffection."
"thisisalovelyrose,"saidthewiseman;"butthereisonestillmorelovely."
"yes,onefarmorelovely,"saidoneofthewomen."ihaveseenit,andaloftierandpurerrosedoesnotbloom.butitwaswhite,liketheleavesofablush-rose.isawitonthecheeksofthequeen.shehadtakenoffhergoldencrown,andthroughthelong,drearynight,shecarriedhersickchildinherarms.sheweptoverit,kissedit,andprayedforitasonlyamothercanprayinthathourofheranguish."
"holyandwonderfulinitsmightisthewhiteroseofgrief,butitisnottheoneweseek."
"no;theloveliestroseintheworldisawatthelord'stable,"saidthegoodoldbishop."isawitshineasifanangel'sfacehadappeared.ayoungmaidenkneltatthealtar,andrenewedthevowsmadeatherbaptism;andtherewerewhiterosesandredrosesontheblushingcheeksofthatyounggirl.shelookeduptoheavenwithallthepurityandloveofheryoungspirit,inalltheexpressionofthehighestandpurestlove."
"mayshebeblessed!"