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“Be happy,” cried the Nightingale, “be happy; you shall have your red rose. I will build it out of music by moon-light, and stain it with my own heart’s-blood. All that I ask of you in return is that you will be a true lover, for Love is wiser than Philosophy, though she is wise, and mighti-er than Power, though he is mighty. Flame- coloured are his wings, and coloured like ?ame is his body. His lips are sweet as honey, and his breath is like frankincense.”