“Ha!” said the Nightingale to herself very softly.  “Now is my chance!” She fluttered into the top of the oak tree, and from there hopped down from branch to branch, from twig to twig, until she was directly over the sleeper’s ugly head, over the one closed eye.  Then whirr!  Down she pounced upon the Blindworm.  And before the creature had a chance to know what was happening, the Nightingale had stolen his eye, and had popped it into place in the empty socket on the other side of her beak.

“Ha, ha!” she sang merrily.  “Now I have two bright eyes, as good as any one’s.  Now I can go to Jenny Wren’s wedding as gayly as I please, and no one shall see more of the ceremony than I. I shall be able to tell just exactly how the bride is dressed, how every little feather is arranged, and how she looks after Parson Crow has pronounced the blessing.  Oh, how happy I am!”

But the poor Blindworm, blind indeed from that day forth, began to cry and lament, begging the Nightingale to give him back his eye.

“Nay,” said the Nightingale, “did you not laugh at me when you saw me sadly sitting on the tree, mourning because I could not go to the wedding?  Now I have stolen your eye, and I can see famously.  But you will never again see me sitting sadly on the tree.”

Then the Blindworm grew very angry.  “I will get the eye back!” he cried.  “I will steal it from you, as you stole it from me, some time when you are asleep.  I will climb up into your nest some night, and I will take both your eyes of which you are so proud.  Then you will be blind, wholly blind as I am now.”

At these threatening words the Nightingale ceased to sing and became silent with fear.  For she knew that the Blindworm would do as he said.  But again a brilliant thought came to her.

“Nay!” she trilled gladly.  “That you shall never do.  I will never sleep again.  I will keep awake always, night and day, with my two bright eyes ever looking out for danger.  Yes, yes, yes!  No one shall ever catch me napping.”

“You cannot help yourself,” said the Blindworm.  “You cannot keep awake.  You will drowse in spite of everything.  I shall yet find you asleep some night, and then beware!”

“Nay, nay!” warbled the Nightingale, as she flew away to make herself fine for the wedding.  “I shall sing, sing, sing night and day henceforth to keep myself awake.  And thus I need not fear.  Farewell-well-well!”

And so the Nightingale went to the wedding and sang more sweetly in the bridal chorus than she had ever sung before.  And after that, although she was weary, oh, so weary! she sang all night long, and all the next night and the next.  And so she has continued to sing ever since in the lands which are blessed by her presence.  For she dares not go to sleep even for a single moment, knowing that the Blindworm is ever ready to pounce upon her and take away the eyes which she is now enjoying.