sang about the quiet churchyard, when
the roses bloom, where the elder flower scents the air, and where the
fresh grass is ever moistened anew by the tears of the mourner. This
song brought to Death a longing for his own garden, and, like a cold
grey mist, he passed out of the window.

'Thanks, thanks!' said the emperor; 'you heavenly little bird, I know
you! I banished you from my kingdom, and yet you have charmed the evil
visions away from my bed by your song, and even Death away from my
heart! How can I ever repay you?'

'You have rewarded me,' said the nightingale. 'I brought the tears to
your eyes, the very first time I ever sang to you, and I shall never
forget it! Those are the jewels which gladden the heart of a
singer;--but sleep now, and wake up fresh and strong! I will sing to
you!'

Then it sang again, and the emperor fell into a sweet refreshing sleep.
The sun shone in at his window, when he woke refreshed and well; none of
his attendants had yet come back to him, for they thought he was dead,
but the nightingale still sat there singing.

'You must always stay with me!' said the emperor. 'You shall only sing
when you like, and I will break the artificial bird into a thousand
pieces!'

[Illustration: _Even Death himself listened to the song and said, 'Go
on, little nightingale, go on!'_]

'Don't do that!' said the nightingale, 'it did all the good it could!
keep it as you have always done! I can't build my nest and live in this
palace, but let me come whenever I like, then I will sit on the branch
in the evening, and sing to you. I will sing to cheer you and to make
you thoughtful too; I will sing to you of the happy ones, and of those
that suffer too. I will sing about the good and the evil, which are kept
hidden from you. The little singing bird flies far and wide, to the poor
fisherman, and the peasant's home, to numbers who are far from you and
your court. I love your heart more than your crown, and yet there is an
odour of sanctity round the crown too!--I will come, and I will
sing to you!--But you must promise me one thing!--

'Everything!' said the emperor, who stood there in his imperial robes
which he had just put on, and he held the sword heavy with gold upon his
heart.

'One thing I ask you! Tell no one that you have a little bird who tells
you everything; it will be better so!'

Then the nightingale flew away. The attendants came in to see after
their dead emperor, and there he stood