《拇指姑娘》童话故事英文完整版

2024年3月25日发(作者：游善良)

《拇指姑娘》童话故事英文完整版

我们都知道，我们每一个人都有手指头，而且每个人都是十个手指头，在我们生活中，这是个手指头就是我们组成身体的一部分，那童话故事里的拇指会有怎样的故事呢?今天小编在这给大家整理了一些关于《拇指姑娘》的英文版故事，我们一起来看看吧!

《拇指姑娘》

THERE was once a woman who wished very much to have a

little child, but she could not obtain her wish. At last she went to

a fairy, and said, “I should so very much like to have a little child;

can you tell me where I can find one?”

“Oh, that can be easily managed,” said the fairy. “Here is

a barleycorn of a different kind to tho which grow in the

farmer’s fields, and which the chickens eat; put it into a flower-pot, and e what will happen.”

“Thank you,” said the woman, and she gave the fairy

twelve shillings, which was the price of the barleycorn. Then she

went home and planted it, and immediately there grew up a large

handsome flower, something like a tulip in appearance, but with

its leaves tightly clod as if it were still a bud. “It is a beautiful

flower,” said the woman, and she kisd the red and golden-colored leaves, and while she did so the flower opened, and she

could e that it was a real tulip. Within the flower, upon the

green velvet stamens, sat a very delicate and graceful little

maiden. She was scarcely half as long as a thumb, and they gave

her the name of “Thumbelina,” or Tiny, becau she was so

small. A walnut-shell, elegantly polished, rved her for a cradle;

her bed was formed of blue violet-leaves, with a ro-leaf for a

counterpane. Here she slept at night, but during the day she

amud herlf on a table, where the woman had placed a

plateful of water. Round this plate were wreaths of flowers with

their stems in the water, and upon it floated a large tulip-leaf,

which rved Tiny for a boat. Here the little maiden sat and rowed

herlf from side to side, with two oars made of white hor-hair.

It really was a very pretty sight. Tiny could, also, sing so softly and

sweetly that nothing like her singing had ever before been heard.

One night, while she lay in her pretty bed, a large, ugly, wet toad

crept through a broken pane of glass in the window, and leaped

right upon the table where Tiny lay sleeping under her ro-leaf

quilt. “What a pretty little wife this would make for my son,”

said the toad, and she took up the walnut-shell in which little Tiny

lay asleep, and jumped through the window with it into the

garden.

In the swampy margin of a broad stream in the garden lived

the toad, with her son. He was uglier even than his mother, and

when he saw the pretty little maiden in her elegant bed, he could

only cry, “Croak, croak, croak.”

“Don’t speak so loud, or she will wake,” said the toad,

“and then she might run away, for she is as light as swan’s

down. We will place her on one of the water-lily leaves out in the

stream; it will be like an island to her, she is so light and small,

and then she cannot escape; and, while she is away, we will make

haste and prepare the state-room under the marsh, in which you

are to live when you are married.”

Far out in the stream grew a number of water-lilies, with

broad green leaves, which emed to float on the top of the water.

The largest of the leaves appeared farther off than the rest, and

the old toad swam out to it with the walnut-shell, in which little

Tiny lay still asleep. The tiny little creature woke very early in the

morning, and began to cry bitterly when she found where she

was, for she could e nothing but water on every side of the

large green leaf, and no way of reaching the land. Meanwhile the

old toad was very busy under the marsh, decking her room with

rushes and wild yellow flowers, to make it look pretty for her new

daughter-in-law. Then she swam out with her ugly son to the leaf

on which she had placed poor little Tiny. She wanted to fetch the

pretty bed, that she might put it in the bridal chamber to be ready

for her. The old toad bowed low to her in the water, and said,

“Here is my son, he will be your husband, and you will live

happily in the marsh by the stream.”

“Croak, croak, croak,” was all her son could say for himlf;

so the toad took up the elegant little bed, and swam away with

it, leaving Tiny all alone on the green leaf, where she sat and wept.

She could not bear to think of living with the old toad, and having

her ugly son for a husband. The little fishes, who swam about in

the water beneath, had en the toad, and heard what she said,

so they lifted their heads above the water to look at the little

maiden. As soon as they caught sight of her, they saw she was

very pretty, and it made them very sorry to think that she must

go and live with the ugly toads. “No, it must never be!” so they

asmbled together in the water, round the green stalk which

held the leaf on which the little maiden stood, and gnawed it

away at the root with their teeth. Then the leaf floated down the

stream, carrying Tiny far away out of reach of land.

Tiny sailed past many towns, and the little birds in the bushes

saw her, and sang, “What a lovely little creature;” so the leaf

swam away with her farther and farther, till it brought her to other

lands. A graceful little white butterfly constantly fluttered round

her, and at last alighted on the leaf. Tiny plead him, and she

was glad of it, for now the toad could not possibly reach her, and

the country through which she sailed was beautiful, and the sun

shone upon the water, till it glittered like liquid gold. She took off

her girdle and tied one end of it round the butterfly, and the other

end of the ribbon she fastened to the leaf, which now glided on

much faster than ever, taking little Tiny with it as she stood.

Prently a large cockchafer flew by; the moment he caught sight

of her, he ized her round her delicate waist with his claws, and

flew with her into a tree. The green leaf floated away on the brook,

and the butterfly flew with it, for he was fastened to it, and could

not get away.

Oh, how frightened little Tiny felt when the cockchafer flew

with her to the tree! But especially was she sorry for the beautiful

white butterfly which she had fastened to the leaf, for if he could

not free himlf he would die of hunger. But the cockchafer did

not trouble himlf at all about the matter. He ated himlf by

her side on a large green leaf, gave her some honey from the

flowers to eat, and told her she was very pretty, though not in the

least like a cockchafer. After a time, all the cockchafers turned up

their feelers, and said, “She has only two legs! how ugly that

looks.” “She has no feelers,” said another. “Her waist is quite

slim. Pooh! she is like a human being.”

“Oh! she is ugly,” said all the lady cockchafers, although

Tiny was very pretty. Then the cockchafer who had run away with

her, believed all the others when they said she was ugly, and

would have nothing more to say to her, and told her she might

go where she liked. Then he flew down with her from the tree,

and placed her on a daisy, and she wept at the thought that she

was so ugly that even the cockchafers would have nothing to say

to her. And all the while she was really the loveliest creature that

one could imagine, and as tender and delicate as a beautiful

ro-leaf. During the whole summer poor little Tiny lived quite

alone in the wide forest. She wove herlf a bed with blades of

grass, and hung it up under a broad leaf, to protect herlf from

the rain. She sucked the honey from the flowers for food, and

drank the dew from their leaves every morning. So pasd away

the summer and the autumn, and then came the winter,— the

long, cold winter. All the birds who had sung to her so sweetly

were flown away, and the trees and the flowers had withered. The

large clover leaf under the shelter of which she had lived, was

now rolled together and shrivelled up, nothing remained but a

yellow withered stalk. She felt dreadfully cold, for her clothes

were torn, and she was herlf so frail and delicate, that poor little

Tiny was nearly frozen to death. It began to snow too; and the

snow-flakes, as they fell upon her, were like a whole shovelful

falling upon one of us, for we are tall, but she was only an inch

high. Then she wrapped herlf up in a dry leaf, but it cracked in

the middle and could not keep her warm, and she shivered with

cold. Near the wood in which she had been living lay a corn-field,

but the corn had been cut a long time; nothing remained but the

bare dry stubble standing up out of the frozen ground. It was to

her like struggling through a large wood. Oh! how she shivered

with the cold. She came at last to the door of a field-mou, who

had a little den under the corn-stubble. There dwelt the field-mou in warmth and comfort, with a whole roomful of corn, a

kitchen, and a beautiful dining room. Poor little Tiny stood before

the door just like a little beggar-girl, and begged for a small piece

of barley-corn, for she had been without a morl to eat for two

days.

“You poor little creature,” said the field-mou, who was

really a good old field-mou, “come into my warm room and

dine with me.” She was very plead with Tiny, so she said, “You

are quite welcome to stay with me all the winter, if you like; but

you must keep my rooms clean and neat, and tell me stories, for

I shall like to hear them very much.” And Tiny did all the field-mou asked her, and found herlf very comfortable.

“We shall have a visitor soon,” said the field-mou one

day; “my neighbor pays me a visit once a week. He is better off

than I am; he has large rooms, and wears a beautiful black velvet

coat. If you could only have him for a husband, you would be well

provided for indeed. But he is blind, so you must tell him some

of your prettiest stories.”

But Tiny did not feel at all interested about this neighbor, for

he was a mole. However, he came and paid his visit dresd in his

black velvet coat.

“He is very rich and learned, and his hou is twenty times

larger than mine,” said the field-mou.

He was rich and learned, no doubt, but he always spoke

slightingly of the sun and the pretty flowers, becau he had

never en them. Tiny was obliged to sing to him, “Lady-bird,

lady-bird, fly away home,” and many other pretty songs. And the

mole fell in love with her becau she had such a sweet voice; but

he said nothing yet, for he was very cautious. A short time before,

the mole had dug a long passage under the earth, which led from

the dwelling of the field-mou to his own, and here she had

permission to walk with Tiny whenever she liked. But he warned

them not to be alarmed at the sight of a dead bird which lay in

the passage. It was a perfect bird, with a beak and feathers, and

could not have been dead long, and was lying just where the

mole had made his passage. The mole took a piece of

phosphorescent wood in his mouth, and it glittered like fire in the

dark; then he went before them to light them through the long,

dark passage. When they came to the spot where lay the dead

bird, the mole pushed his broad no through the ceiling, the

earth gave way, so that there was a large hole, and the daylight

shone into the passage. In the middle of the floor lay a dead

swallow, his beautiful wings pulled clo to his sides, his feet and

his head drawn up under his feathers; the poor bird had evidently

died of the cold. It made little Tiny very sad to e it, she did so

love the little birds; all the summer they had sung and twittered

for her so beautifully. But the mole pushed it aside with his

crooked legs, and said, “He will sing no more now. How

mirable it must be to be born a little bird! I am thankful that

none of my children will ever be birds, for they can do nothing

but cry, ‘Tweet, tweet,’ and always die of hunger in the winter.”

“Yes, you may well say that, as a clever man!” exclaimed

the field-mou, “What is the u of his twittering, for when

winter comes he must either starve or be frozen to death. Still

birds are very high bred.”

Tiny said nothing; but when the two others had turned their

backs on the bird, she stooped down and stroked aside the soft

feathers which covered the head, and kisd the clod eyelids.

“Perhaps this was the one who sang to me so sweetly in the

summer,” she said; “and how much pleasure it gave me, you

dear, pretty bird.”

The mole now stopped up the hole through which the

daylight shone, and then accompanied the lady home. But during

the night Tiny could not sleep; so she got out of bed and wove a

large, beautiful carpet of hay; then she carried it to the dead bird,

and spread it over him; with some down from the flowers which

she had found in the field-mou’s room. It was as soft as wool,

and she spread some of it on each side of the bird, so that he

might lie warmly in the cold earth. “Farewell, you pretty little

bird,” said she, “farewell; thank you for your delightful singing

during the summer, when all the trees were green, and the warm

sun shone upon us.” Then she laid her head on the bird’s breast,

but she was alarmed immediately, for it emed as if something

inside the bird went “thump, thump.” It was the bird’s heart;

he was not really dead, only benumbed with the cold, and the

warmth had restored him to life. In autumn, all the swallows fly

away into warm countries, but if one happens to linger, the cold

izes it, it becomes frozen, and falls down as if dead; it remains

where it fell, and the cold snow covers it. Tiny trembled very

much; she was quite frightened, for the bird was large, a great

deal larger than herlf,—she was only an inch high. But she took

courage, laid the wool more thickly over the poor swallow, and

then took a leaf which she had ud for her own counterpane,

and laid it over the head of the poor bird. The next morning she

again stole out to e him. He was alive but very weak; he could

only open his eyes for a moment to look at Tiny, who stood by

holding a piece of decayed wood in her hand, for she had no

other lantern. “Thank you, pretty little maiden,” said the sick

swallow; “I have been so nicely warmed, that I shall soon regain

my strength, and be able to fly about again in the warm sunshine.”

“Oh,” said she, “it is cold out of doors now; it snows and

freezes. Stay in your warm bed; I will take care of you.”

Then she brought the swallow some water in a flower-leaf,

and after he had drank, he told her that he had wounded one of

his wings in a thorn-bush, and could not fly as fast as the others,

who were soon far away on their journey to warm countries. Then

at last he had fallen to the earth, and could remember no more,

nor how he came to be where she had found him. The whole

winter the swallow remained underground, and Tiny nurd him

with care and love. Neither the mole nor the field-mou knew

anything about it, for they did not like swallows. Very soon the

spring time came, and the sun warmed the earth. Then the

swallow bade farewell to Tiny, and she opened the hole in the

ceiling which the mole had made. The sun shone in upon them

so beautifully, that the swallow asked her if she would go with

him; she could sit on his back, he said, and he would fly away

with her into the green woods. But Tiny knew it would make the

field-mou very grieved if she left her in that manner, so she

said, “No, I cannot.”

“Farewell, then, farewell, you good, pretty little maiden,”

said the swallow; and he flew out into the sunshine.

Tiny looked after him, and the tears ro in her eyes. She was

very fond of the poor swallow.

“Tweet, tweet,” sang the bird, as he flew out into the green

woods, and Tiny felt very sad. She was not allowed to go out into

the warm sunshine. The corn which had been sown in the field

over the hou of the field-mou had grown up high into the air,

and formed a thick wood to Tiny, who was only an inch in height.

“You are going to be married, Tiny,” said the field-mou.

“My neighbor has asked for you. What good fortune for a poor

child like you. Now we will prepare your wedding clothes. They

must be both woollen and linen. Nothing must be wanting when

you are the mole’s wife.”

Tiny had to turn the spindle, and the field-mou hired four

spiders, who were to weave day and night. Every evening the

mole visited her, and was continually speaking of the time when

the summer would be over. Then he would keep his wedding-day

with Tiny; but now the heat of the sun was so great that it burned

the earth, and made it quite hard, like a stone. As soon, as the

summer was over, the wedding should take place. But Tiny was

not at all plead; for she did not like the tiresome mole. Every

morning when the sun ro, and every evening when it went

down, she would creep out at the door, and as the wind blew

aside the ears of corn, so that she could e the blue sky, she

thought how beautiful and bright it emed out there, and

wished so much to e her dear swallow again. But he never

returned; for by this time he had flown far away into the lovely

green forest.

When autumn arrived, Tiny had her outfit quite ready; and

the field-mou said to her, “In four weeks the wedding must

take place.”

Then Tiny wept, and said she would not marry the

disagreeable mole.

“Nonn,” replied the field-mou. “Now don’t be

obstinate, or I shall bite you with my white teeth. He is a very

handsome mole; the queen herlf does not wear more beautiful

velvets and furs. His kitchen and cellars are quite full. You ought

to be very thankful for such good fortune.”

So the wedding-day was fixed, on which the mole was to

fetch Tiny away to live with him, deep under the earth, and never

again to e the warm sun, becau he did not like it. The poor

child was very unhappy at the thought of saying farewell to the

beautiful sun, and as the field-mou had given her permission

to stand at the door, she went to look at it once more.

“Farewell bright sun,” she cried, stretching out her arm

towards it; and then she walked a short distance from the hou;

for the corn had been cut, and only the dry stubble remained in

the fields. “Farewell, farewell,” she repeated, twining her arm

round a little red flower that grew just by her side. “Greet the

little swallow from me, if you should e him again.”

“Tweet, tweet,” sounded over her head suddenly. She

looked up, and there was the swallow himlf flying clo by. As

soon as he spied Tiny, he was delighted; and then she told him

how unwilling she felt to marry the ugly mole, and to live always

beneath the earth, and never to e the bright sun any more. And

as she told him she wept.

“Cold winter is coming,” said the swallow, “and I am going

to fly away into warmer countries. Will you go with me? You can

sit on my back, and fasten yourlf on with your sash. Then we

can fly away from the ugly mole and his gloomy rooms,—far

away, over the mountains, into warmer countries, where the sun

shines more brightly—than here; where it is always summer, and

the flowers bloom in greater beauty. Fly now with me, dear little

Tiny; you saved my life when I lay frozen in that dark passage.”

“Yes, I will go with you,” said Tiny; and she ated herlf

on the bird’s back, with her feet on his outstretched wings, and

tied her girdle to one of his strongest feathers.

Then the swallow ro in the air, and flew over forest and

over a, high above the highest mountains, covered with eternal

snow. Tiny would have been frozen in the cold air, but she crept

under the bird’s warm feathers, keeping her little head

uncovered, so that she might admire the beautiful lands over

which they pasd. At length they reached the warm countries,

where the sun shines brightly, and the sky ems so much higher

above the earth. Here, on the hedges, and by the wayside, grew

purple, green, and white grapes; lemons and oranges hung from

trees in the woods; and the air was fragrant with myrtles and

orange blossoms. Beautiful children ran along the country lanes,

playing with large gay butterflies; and as the swallow flew farther

and farther, every place appeared still more lovely.

At last they came to a blue lake, and by the side of it, shaded

by trees of the deepest green, stood a palace of dazzling white

marble, built in the olden times. Vines clustered round its lofty

pillars, and at the top were many swallows’ nests, and one of

the was the home of the swallow who carried Tiny.

“This is my hou,” said the swallow; “but it would not do

for you to live there—you would not be comfortable. You must

choo for yourlf one of tho lovely flowers, and I will put you

down upon it, and then you shall have everything that you can

wish to make you happy.”

“That will be delightful,” she said, and clapped her little

hands for joy.

A large marble pillar lay on the ground, which, in falling, had

been broken into three pieces. Between the pieces grew the

most beautiful large white flowers; so the swallow flew down with

Tiny, and placed her on one of the broad leaves. But how

surprid she was to e in the middle of the flower, a tiny little

man, as white and transparent as if he had been made of crystal!

He had a gold crown on his head, and delicate wings at his

shoulders, and was not much larger than Tiny herlf. He was the

angel of the flower; for a tiny man and a tiny woman dwell in

every flower; and this was the king of them all.

“Oh, how beautiful he is!” whispered Tiny to the swallow.

The little prince was at first quite frightened at the bird, who

was like a giant, compared to such a delicate little creature as

himlf; but when he saw Tiny, he was delighted, and thought her

the prettiest little maiden he had ever en. He took the gold

crown from his head, and placed it on hers, and asked her name,

and if she would be his wife, and queen over all the flowers.

This certainly was a very different sort of husband to the son

of a toad, or the mole, with my black velvet and fur; so she said,

“Yes,” to the handsome prince. Then all the flowers opened,

and out of each came a little lady or a tiny lord, all so pretty it

was quite a pleasure to look at them. Each of them brought Tiny

a prent; but the best gift was a pair of beautiful wings, which

had belonged to a large white fly and they fastened them to

Tiny’s shoulders, so that she might fly from flower to flower.

Then there was much rejoicing, and the little swallow who sat

above them, in his nest, was asked to sing a wedding song, which

he did as well as he could; but in his heart he felt sad for he was

very fond of Tiny, and would have liked never to part from her

again.

“You must not be called Tiny any more,” said the spirit of

the flowers to her. “It is an ugly name, and you are so very pretty.

We will call you Maia.”

“Farewell, farewell,” said the swallow, with a heavy heart as

he left the warm countries to fly back into Denmark. There he

had a nest over the window of a hou in which dwelt the writer

of fairy tales. The swallow sang, “Tweet, tweet,” and from his

song came the whole story.