High above the city, on a lofty marble column, stood the magnificent statue of the Happy Prince. He was covered in gleaming gold leaves. His eyes sparkled with two bright sapphires, and his sword hilt held a great red ruby. Far below, the city bustled, but from his high perch, the Prince looked down with a gentle smile.

Though beautiful outside, the Prince's statue heart held great sorrow. When he was alive, he lived happily in a palace. Now, from his high perch, he saw all the city's pain: hungry children, cold widows, and weeping mothers. His hidden heart ached to help them.

One evening, a small Swallow flew over the city. He was on his way to warm Egypt for the winter. Tired from his long journey, he decided to rest for the night between the feet of the magnificent statue, hoping for a quiet spot to sleep.

A drop of water suddenly fell onto the Swallow’s head. He looked up and saw that the Prince’s sapphire eyes were filled with tears! “Why do you weep?” asked the surprised Swallow. “Because I see the pain of my city,” the Prince explained, his voice full of sorrow. The bird listened intently as the statue spoke of suffering he could not ease alone.

The Prince said, “Far away, a poor mother lives with her sick child. She has no fire and no food.” He asked the Swallow to bring his great ruby from his sword hilt to help her. The Swallow hesitated, as it was cold, but agreed to stay and help.

Under the pale moonlight, the Swallow flew through the silent city streets, carrying the gleaming red ruby. He gently placed it beside the sleeping mother’s hand. Her sick child stirred, and the mother's eyes glistened with unshed tears of relief. The Swallow then quickly returned to the Prince.

On the next night, the Prince spoke again: “There is a hungry writer in a cold garret, trying to finish his play. Will you bring him one of my sparkling sapphires?” The Swallow agreed, and carefully plucked a sapphire from the Prince’s eye.

The Swallow flew through narrow city alleys to the hungry writer’s window. He quietly left the glowing sapphire beside the writer’s inkpot. When the writer awoke, he saw the jewel, and a surprised, grateful smile spread across his face, believing it was a gift from an admirer.

On the third night, the Prince whispered, “A little match-girl has dropped all her matches in the gutter. Her father will be upset. Please, give her my other sapphire.” “But then you will be blind!” cried the Swallow. “Still, give it,” insisted the Prince.

So the loyal bird delivered the second sapphire to the small match-girl, placing it directly into her cold hand. Her face lit up with pure joy and surprise at the beautiful gem. Now, with both sapphires gone, the Happy Prince was truly blind.

Now the Prince was blind, with only empty sockets where his beautiful sapphire eyes once were. The Swallow, looking at his sightless friend, declared, “I cannot leave you now, dear Prince. I will stay.” So, despite the growing chill, he perched faithfully by the statue’s side, guarding him through the nights.

The city still held many people in need. Although his jewels were gone, the Prince had one treasure left: his gold covering. “Take it, leaf by leaf, and give it to the poor,” he urged the Swallow. The bird diligently plucked the shimmering gold leaves.

The Swallow carried the gold leaves through the dark wind to weavers, bakers, and beggars across the city. Each leaf was a precious gift. As the leaves vanished, the Prince grew dull and grey. His statue glowed less and less, until only the plain lead beneath remained. Yet, below, the city’s faces glowed with hope.

Winter arrived, bitter and harsh. The Swallow, weak and shivering from the cold, could barely lift his wings. “Goodbye, dear Prince,” he whispered, his last breath a loving kiss on the Prince’s lips. He fell, his spirit leaving his tiny body. At that moment, the Prince’s lead heart cracked and split in two.

At dawn, the town officials looked up. The once-golden statue was now shabby, with no jewels or gold remaining. “Tear it down!” the Mayor commanded. They melted the statue in a roaring furnace, but the broken lead heart would not melt. It lay discarded beside the dead bird, a symbol of unbreakable love.

God called to His angels, “Bring me the two most precious things in the city.” They gently brought the broken lead heart and the small, dead Swallow. God smiled. “In My garden of Paradise, this little bird shall sing forever, and the Prince shall live in joy eternal, for their love was the truest treasure.”