"Alas for my child on service abroad!
He never in sleep shuts an eye.
May he careful be, and come back to me!
In the wild may his body not lie!"
Up the lofty ridge I, toiling, ascend, And towards my brother I gaze, Till with my mind's eye his form I espy, And my mind's ear hears how he says:-- "Alas! my young brother, serving abroad, All day with his comrades must roam.
May he careful be, and come back to me, And die not away from his home."
BOOK X _The Odes of T[']ang_ THE KING GOES TO WAR The wild geese fly the bushy oaks around, With clamor loud. _Suh-suh_ their wings resound, As for their feet poor resting-place is found.
The King's affairs admit of no delay.
Our millet still unsown, we haste away.
No food is left our parents to supply; When we are gone, on whom can they rely?
O azure Heaven, that shinest there afar, When shall our homes receive us from the war?
The wild geese on the bushy jujube-trees Attempt to settle and are ill at ease;-- _Suh-suh_ their wings go flapping in the breeze.
The King's affairs admit of no delay; Our millet still unsown, we haste away.
How shall our parents their requirements get?
How in our absence shall their wants be met?
O azure Heaven, that shinest there afar, When shall our homes receive us from the war?
The bushy mulberry-trees the geese in rows Seek eager and to rest around them close-- With rustling loud, as disappointment grows.
The King's affairs admit of no delay; To plant our rice and maize we cannot stay.
How shall our parents find their wonted food?
When we are gone, who will to them be good?
O azure Heaven, that shinest there afar, When shall our homes receive us from the war?
LAMENT OF A BEREAVED PERSON A russet pear-tree rises all alone, But rich the growth of leaves upon it shown!
I walk alone, without one brother left, And thus of natural aid am I bereft.
Plenty of people there are all around, But none like my own father's sons are found.
Ye travellers, who forever hurry by, Why on me turn the unsympathizing eye?
No brother lives with whom my cause to plead;-- Why not perform for me the helping deed?
A russet pear-tree rises all alone, But rich with verdant foliage o'ergrown.
I walk alone, without one brother's care, To whom I might, amid my straits repair.
Plenty of people there are all around, But none like those of my own name are found.
Ye travellers, who forever hurry by, Why on me turn the unsympathizing eye?
No brother lives with whom my cause to plead;-- Why not perform for me the helping deed?
THE DRAWBACKS OF POVERTY On the left of the way, a russet pear-tree Stands there all alone--a fit image of me.
There is that princely man! O that he would come, And in my poor dwelling with me be at home!
In the core of my heart do I love him, but say, Whence shall I procure him the wants of the day?
At the bend in the way a russet pear-tree Stands there all alone--a fit image of me.
There is that princely man! O that he would come, And rambling with me be himself here at home!
In the core of my heart I love him, but say, Whence shall I procure him the wants of the day?
A WIFE MOURNS FOR HER HUSBAND The dolichos grows and covers the thorn, O'er the waste is the dragon-plant creeping.
The man of my heart is away and I mourn-- What home have I, lonely and weeping?
Covering the jujubes the dolichos grows, The graves many dragon-plants cover; But where is the man on whose breast I'd repose?
No home have I, having no lover!
Fair to see was the pillow of horn, And fair the bed-chamber's adorning; But the man of my heart is not here, and I mourn All alone, and wait for the morning.
While the long days of summer pass over my head, And long winter nights leave their traces, I'm alone! Till a hundred of years shall have fled, And then I shall meet his embraces.
Through the long winter nights I am burdened with fears, Through the long summer days I am lonely; But when time shall have counted its hundreds of years I then shall be his--and his only!
BOOK XI _The Odes of Ts[']in_ CELEBRATING THE OPULENCE OF THE LORDS OF TS[']IN Our ruler to the hunt proceeds; And black as iron are his steeds That heed the charioteer's command, Who holds the six reins in his hand.
His favorites follow to the chase, Rejoicing in his special grace.
The season's males, alarmed, arise-- The season's males, of wondrous size.
Driven by the beaters, forth they spring, Soon caught within the hunters' ring.
"Drive on their left," the ruler cries; And to its mark his arrow flies.
The hunting done, northward he goes; And in the park the driver shows The horses' points, and his own skill That rules and guides them at his will.
Light cars whose teams small bells display, The long- and short-mouthed dogs convey.
A COMPLAINT He lodged us in a spacious house, And plenteous was our fare.
But now at every frugal meal There's not a scrap to spare.
Alas! alas that this good man Could not go on as he began!
A WIFE'S GRIEF BECAUSE OF HER HUSBAND'S ABSENCE The falcon swiftly seeks the north, And forest gloom that sent it forth.
Since I no more my husband see, My heart from grief is never free.
O how is it, I long to know, That he, my lord, forgets me so?
Bushy oaks on the mountain grow, And six elms where the ground is low.
But I, my husband seen no more, My sad and joyless fate deplore.
O how is it, I long to know, That he, my lord, forgets me so?
The hills the bushy wild plums show, And pear-trees grace the ground below.
But, with my husband from me gone, As drunk with grief, I dwell alone.
Oh how is it, I long to know, That he, my lord, forgets me so?
LAMENT FOR THREE BROTHERS They flit about, the yellow birds, And rest upon the jujubes find.
Who buried were in duke Muh's grave, Alive to awful death consigned?
'Mong brothers three, who met that fate, 'Twas sad the first, Yen-seih to see.
He stood alone; a hundred men Could show no other such as he.
When to the yawning grave he came, Terror unnerved and shook his frame.
Why thus destroy our noblest men, To thee we cry, O azure Heaven!
To save Yen-seih from death, we would A hundred lives have freely given.
They flit about, the yellow birds, And on the mulberry-trees rest find.
Who buried were in duke Muh's grave, Alive to awful death consigned?
'Mong brothers three, who met that fate, 'Twas sad the next, Chung-hang to see.
When on him pressed a hundred men, A match for all of them was he.
When to the yawning grave he came, Terror unnerved and shook his frame.
Why thus destroy our noblest men, To thee we cry, O azure Heaven!
To save Chung-hang from death, we would A hundred lives have freely given.
They flit about, the yellow birds, And rest upon the thorn-trees find.
Who buried were in duke Muh's grave, Alive to awful death consigned?
'Mong brothers three, who met that fate, 'Twas sad the third, K[']een-foo, to see.
A hundred men in desperate fight Successfully withstand could he.
When to the yawning grave he came, Terror unnerved and shook his frame.
Why thus destroy our noblest men, To thee we cry, O azure Heaven!
To save K[']een-foo from death, we would A hundred lives have freely given.
[NOTE.--The incident related in this poem occurred in the year B.C. 620, when the duke of Muh died after playing an important part in the affairs of Northwest China. Muh required the three officers here celebrated, to be buried with him, and according to the "Historical Records" this barbarous practice began with duke Ching, Muh's predecessor. In all, 170 individuals were buried with Muh. The death of the last distinguished man of the Ts[']in dynasty, the Emperor I, was subsequently celebrated by the entombment with him of all the inmates of his harem.]
IN PRAISE OF A RULER OF TS[']IN What trees grow on the Chung-nan hill?
The white fir and the plum.
In fur of fox, 'neath 'broidered robe, Thither our prince is come.
His face glows with vermilion hue.
O may he prove a ruler true!
What find we on the Chung-nan hill?
Deep nook and open glade.
Our prince shows there the double _Ke_ On lower robe displayed.
His pendant holds each tinkling gem, Long life be his, and deathless fame!
THE GENEROUS NEPHEW I escorted my uncle to Tsin, Till the Wei we crossed on the way.
Then I gave as I left For his carriage a gift Four steeds, and each steed was a bay.
I escorted my uncle to Tsin, And I thought of him much in my heart.
Pendant stones, and with them Of fine jasper a gem, I gave, and then saw him depart.
BOOK XII _The Odes of Ch[']in_ THE CONTENTMENT OF A POOR RECLUSE My only door some pieces of crossed wood, Within it I can rest enjoy.
I drink the water wimpling from the spring; Nor hunger can my peace destroy.
Purged from ambition's aims I say, "For fish, We need not bream caught in the Ho; Nor, to possess the sweets of love, require To Ts[']e, to find a Keang, to go.
"The man contented with his lot, a meal Of fish without Ho carp can make; Nor needs, to rest in his domestic joy, A Tsze of Sung as wife to take."
THE DISAPPOINTED LOVER Where grow the willows near the eastern gate, And 'neath their leafy shade we could recline, She said at evening she would me await, And brightly now I see the day-star shine!
Here where the willows near the eastern gate Grow, and their dense leaves make a shady gloom, She said at evening she would me await.
See now the morning star the sky illume!
A LOVE-SONG The moon comes forth, bright in the sky; A lovelier sight to draw my eye Is she, that lady fair.
She round my heart has fixed love's chain, But all my longings are in vain.
'Tis hard the grief to bear.
The moon comes forth, a splendid sight; More winning far that lady bright, Object of my desire!
Deep-seated is my anxious grief; In vain I seek to find relief, While glows the secret fire.
The rising moon shines mild and fair; More bright is she, whose beauty rare My heart with longing fills.
With eager wish I pine in vain; O for relief from constant pain, Which through my bosom thrills!
THE LAMENT OF A LOVER There where its shores the marsh surround, Rushes and lotus plants abound.
Their loveliness brings to my mind The lovelier one that I would find.
In vain I try to ease the smart Of wounded love that wrings my heart.
In waking thought and nightly dreams, From every pore the water streams.
All round the marsh's shores are seen Valerian flowers and rushes green.
But lovelier is that Beauty rare, Handsome and large, and tall and fair.
I wish and long to call her mine, Doomed with the longing still to pine.
Nor day nor night e'er brings relief; My inmost heart is full of grief.
Around the marsh, in rich display, Grow rush and lotus flowers, all gay.
But not with her do they compare, So tall and large, majestic, fair.
Both day and night, I nothing speed; Still clings to me the aching need.
On side, on back, on face, I lie, But vain each change of posture try.
BOOK XIII _The Odes of Kwei_ THE WISH OF AN UNHAPPY MAN Where the grounds are wet and low, There the trees of goat-peach grow, With their branches small and smooth, Glossy in their tender youth.
Joy it were to me, O tree, Consciousness to want like thee.
Where the grounds are wet and low, There the trees of goat-peach grow.
Soft and fragrant are their flowers, Glossy from the vernal showers.
Joy it were to me, O tree, Ties of home to want like thee.
Where the grounds are wet and low, There the trees of goat-peach grow, What delicious fruits they bear, Glossy, soft, of beauty rare!
Joy it were to me, O tree, Household cares to want like thee.
BOOK XIV _The Odes of Ts[']aou_ AGAINST FRIVOLOUS PURSUITS Like splendid robes appear the wings Of the ephemeral fly; And such the pomp of those great men, Which soon in death shall lie!
I grieve! Would they but come to me!
To teach them I should try.
The wings of the ephemeral fly Are robes of colors gay; And such the glory of those men, Soon crumbling to decay!
I grieve! Would they but rest with me, They'd learn a better way!
The ephemeral fly bursts from its hole, With gauzy wings like snow; So quick the rise, so quick the fall, Of those great men we know!
I grieve! Would they but lodge with me, Forth they would wiser go.
BOOK XV _The Odes of Pin_ THE DUKE OF CHOW TELLS OF HIS SOLDIERS To the hills of the East we went, And long had we there to remain.
When the word of recall was sent, Thick and fast came the drizzling rain.
When told our return we should take, Our hearts in the West were and sore; But there did they clothes for us make:-- They knew our hard service was o'er.
On the mulberry grounds in our sight The large caterpillars were creeping; Lonely and still we passed the night, All under our carriages sleeping.
To the hills of the East we went, And long had we there to remain.
When the word of recall was sent, Thick and fast came the drizzling rain.
The heavenly gourds rise to the eye, With their fruit hanging under the eave.
In our chambers the sow-bug we spy; Their webs on our doors spiders weave.
Our paddocks seem crowded with deer, With the glow-worm's light all about.
Such thoughts, while they filled us with fear, We tried, but in vain, to keep out.
To the hills of the East we went, And long had we there to remain.
When the word of recall was sent, Thick and fast came the drizzling rain.
On ant-hills screamed cranes with delight; In their rooms were our wives sighing sore.
Our homes they had swept and made tight:-- All at once we arrived at the door.
The bitter gourds hanging are seen, From branches of chestnut-trees high.
Three years of toil away we had been, Since such a sight greeted the eye.
To the hills of the East we went, And long had we there to remain.
When the word of recall was sent, Thick and fast came the drizzling rain.
With its wings now here, and now there, Is the oriole sporting in flight.
Those brides to their husbands repair, Their steeds red and bay, flecked with white.
Each mother has fitted each sash; Their equipments are full and complete; But fresh unions, whatever their dash, Can ne'er with reunions compete.
THERE IS A PROPER WAY FOR DOING EVERYTHING In hewing an axe-shaft, how must you act?
Another axe take, or you'll never succeed.
In taking a wife, be sure 'tis a fact, That with no go-between you never can speed.
In hewing an axe-shaft, hewing a shaft, For a copy you have the axe in your hand.
In choosing a wife, you follow the craft, And forthwith on the mats the feast-vessels stand.
_PART II.--MINOR ODES OF THE KINGDOM_ BOOK I _Decade of Luh Ming_ A FESTAL ODE With sounds of happiness the deer Browse on the celery of the meads.
A nobler feast is furnished here, With guests renowned for noble deeds.
The lutes are struck; the organ blows, Till all its tongues in movement heave.
Each basket loaded stands, and shows The precious gifts the guests receive.
They love me and my mind will teach, How duty's highest aim to reach.
With sounds of happiness the deer The southern-wood crop in the meads, What noble guests surround me here, Distinguished for their worthy deeds!
From them my people learn to fly Whate'er is mean; to chiefs they give A model and a pattern high;-- They show the life they ought to live.
Then fill their cups with spirits rare, Till each the banquet's joy shall share.
With sounds of happiness the deer The salsola crop in the fields.
What noble guests surround me here!
Each lute for them its music yields.
Sound, sound the lutes, or great or small, The joy harmonious to prolong;-- And with my spirits rich crown all The cups to cheer the festive throng.
Let each retire with gladdened heart, In his own sphere to play his part.
A FESTAL ODE COMPLIMENTING AN OFFICER On dashed my four steeds, without halt, without stay, Though toilsome and winding from Chow was the way.
I wished to return--but the monarch's command Forbade that his business be done with slack hand; And my heart was with sadness oppressed.
On dashed my four steeds; I ne'er slackened the reins.
They snorted and panted--all white, with black manes.
I wished to return, but our sovereign's command Forbade that his business be done with slack hand;-- And I dared not to pause or to rest.
Unresting the Filial doves speed in their flight, Ascending, then sweeping swift down from the height, Now grouped on the oaks. The king's high command Forbade that his business be done with slack hand;-- And my father I left, sore distressed.
Unresting the Filial doves speed in their flight, Now fanning the air and anon they alight On the medlars thick grouped. But our monarch's command Forbade that his business be done with slack hand;-- Of my mother I thought with sad breast.
My four steeds I harnessed, all white and black-maned, Which straight on their way, fleet and emulous strained.
I wished to return; and now venture in song The wish to express, and announce how I long For my mother my care to attest.
[NOTE.--Both Maou and Choo agree that this ode was composed in honor of the officer who narrates the story in it, although they say it was not written by the officer himself, but was put into his mouth, as it were, to express the sympathy of his entertainer with him, and the appreciation of his devotion to duty.]
THE VALUE OF FRIENDSHIP The woodmen's blows responsive ring, As on the trees they fall; And when the birds their sweet notes sing, They to each other call.
From the dark valley comes a bird, And seeks the lofty tree.
_Ying_ goes its voice, and thus it cries, "Companion, come to me."
The bird, although a creature small, Upon its mate depends; And shall we men, who rank o'er all, Not seek to have our friends?
All spirits love the friendly man, And hearken to his prayer.
What harmony and peace they can Bestow, his lot shall share.
_Hoo-hoo_ the woodmen all unite To shout, as trees they fell.
They do their work with all their might;-- What I have done I'll tell.
I've strained and made my spirits clear, The fatted lambs I've killed.
With friends who my own surname bear, My hall I've largely filled.
Some may be absent, casually, And leave a broken line; But better this than absence by An oversight of mine.
My court I've sprinkled and swept clean, Viands in order set, Eight dishes loaded stand with grain; There's store of fatted meat.
My mother's kith and kin I'm sure I've widely called by name.
That some be hindered better is Than I give cause for blame.
On the hill-side the trees they fell, All working with good-will.
I labor too, with equal zeal, And the host's part fulfil.
Spirits I've set in order meet, The dishes stand in rows.
The guests are here; no vacant seat A brother absent shows.
The loss of kindly feeling oft From slightest things shall grow, Where all the fare is dry and spare, Resentments fierce may glow.
My store of spirits is well strained, If short prove the supply, My messengers I straightway send, And what is needed buy.
I beat the drums, and in the dance Lead joyously the train.
Oh! good it is, when falls the chance The sparkling cup to drain.
THE RESPONSE TO A FESTAL ODE Heaven shields and sets thee fast.
It round thee fair has cast Thy virtue pure.
Thus richest joy is thine;-- Increase of corn and wine, And every gift divine, Abundant, sure.
Heaven shields and sets thee fast.
From it thou goodness hast; Right are thy ways.
Its choicest gifts 'twill pour, That last for evermore, Nor time exhaust the store Through endless days.
Heaven shields and sets thee fast, Makes thine endeavor last And prosper well.
Like hills and mountains high, Whose masses touch the sky; Like streams aye surging by; Thine increase swell!
With rite and auspice fair, Thine offerings thou dost bear, And son-like give, The season's round from spring, To olden duke and king, Whose words to thee we bring:-- "Forever live."
The spirits of thy dead Pour blessings on thy head, Unnumbered sweet.
Thy subjects, simple, good, Enjoy their drink and food.
Our tribes of every blood Follow thy feet.
Like moons that wax in light; Or suns that scale the height; Or ageless hill; Nor change, nor autumn know; As pine and cypress grow; The sons that from thee flow Be lasting still!
AN ODE OF CONGRATULATION The russet pear-tree stands there all alone; How bright the growth of fruit upon it shown!
The King's affairs no stinting hands require, And days prolonged still mock our fond desire.
But time has brought the tenth month of the year; My woman's heart is torn with wound severe.
Surely my warrior lord might now appear!
The russet pear-tree stands there all alone; How dense the leafy shade all o'er it thrown!
The King's affairs require no slackening hand, And our sad hearts their feelings can't command.
The plants and trees in beauty shine; 'tis spring.
From off my heart its gloom I fain would fling.
This season well my warrior home may bring!
I climbed that northern hill, and medlars sought; The spring nigh o'er, to ripeness they were brought.
"The King's affairs cannot be slackly done";-- 'Tis thus our parents mourn their absent son.
But now his sandal car must broken be; I seem his powerful steeds worn out to see.
Relief has gone! He can't be far from me!
Alas! they can't have marched; they don't arrive!
More hard it grows with my distress to strive.
The time is passed, and still he is not here!
My sorrows multiply; great is my fear.
But lo! by reeds and shell I have divined, That he is near, they both assure my mind;-- Soon at my side my warrior I shall find!
AN ODE ON THE RETURN OF THE TROOPS Forth from the city in our cars we drove, Until we halted at the pasture ground.
The general came, and there with ardor strove A note of zeal throughout the host to sound.
"Direct from court I come, by orders bound The march to hasten";--it was thus he spake.
Then with the carriage-officers around, He strictly charged them quick despatch to make:-- "Urgent the King's affairs, forthwith the field we take."
While there we stopped, the second corps appeared, And 'twixt us and the city took its place.
The guiding standard was on high upreared, Where twining snakes the tortoises embrace, While oxtails, crest-like, did the staff's top grace.
We watched the sheet unfolding grandly wave; Each flag around showed falcons on its face.
With anxious care looked on our leader brave; Watchful the carriage-officers appeared and grave.
Nan Chung, our chief, had heard the royal call To go where inroad by Heen-yuns was made, And 'cross the frontier build a barrier wall.
Numerous his chariots, splendidly arrayed!
The standards--this where dragons were displayed, And that where snakes round tortoises were coiled-- Terrific flew. "Northward our host," he said, "Heaven's son sends forth to tame the Heen-yun wild."
Soon by this awful chief would all their tribes be foiled.
When first we took the field, and northward went, The millet was in flower;--a prospect sweet.
Now when our weary steps are homeward bent, The snow falls fast, the mire impedes our feet.
Many the hardships we were called to meet, Ere the King's orders we had all fulfilled.
No rest we had; often our friends to greet The longing came; but vain regrets we stilled; By tablets stern our hearts with fresh resolve were thrilled.
"Incessant chirp the insects in the grass; All round about the nimble hoppers spring.
From them our thoughts quick to our husbands pass, Although those thoughts our hearts with anguish wring.
Oh! could we see them, what relief 'twould bring!
Our hearts, rejoiced, at once would feel at rest."
Thus did our wives, their case deploring, sing; The while our leader farther on had pressed, And smitten with his power the wild Jung of the west.
The spring days now are lengthening out their light; The plants and trees are dressed in living green; The orioles resting sing, or wing their flight; Our wives amid the southern-wood are seen, Which white they bring, to feed their silkworms keen.
Our host, returned, sweeps onwards to the hall, Where chiefs are questioned, shown the captives mean Nan Chung, majestic, draws the gaze of all, Proud o'er the barbarous foe his victories to recall.
BOOK II _The Decade of Pih H'wa_ AN ODE APPROPRIATE TO A FESTIVITY The dew lies heavy all around, Nor, till the sun shines, leaves the ground.
Far into night we feasting sit; We drink, and none his place may quit.
The dew lies heavy, and its gems Stud the luxuriant, grassy stems.
The happy night with wassail rings; So feasted here the former kings.
The jujube and the willow-tree All fretted with the dew we see.
Each guest's a prince of noble line, In whom the virtues all combine.
The _t[']ung_ and _e_ their fruits display, Pendant from every graceful spray.
My guests are joyous and serene, No haggard eye, no ruffled mien.
BOOK III CELEBRATING A HUNTING EXPEDITION Our chariots were well-built and firm, Well-matched our steeds, and fleet and strong.
Four, sleek and large, each chariot drew, And eastward thus we drove along.
Our hunting cars were light and good, Each with its team of noble steeds.
Still further east we took the way To Foo-mere's grassy plains that leads.
Loud-voiced, the masters of the chase Arranged the huntsmen, high and low.
While banners streamed, and ox-tails flew, We sought the prey on distant Gaou.
Each with full team, the princes came, A lengthened train in bright array.
In gold-wrought slippers, knee-caps red, They looked as on an audience day.
Each right thumb wore the metal guard; On the left arm its shield was bound.
In unison the arrows flew; The game lay piled upon the ground.
The leaders of the tawny teams Sped on their course, direct and true.
The drivers perfect skill displayed; Like blow well aimed each arrow flew.
Neighing and pleased, the steeds returned; The bannered lines back slowly came.
No jostling rude disgraced the crowd; The king declined large share of game.
So did this famous hunt proceed!
So free it was from clamorous sound!
Well does our King become his place, And high the deeds his reign have crowned!
THE KING'S ANXIETY FOR HIS MORNING LEVEE How goes the night? For heavy morning sleep Ill suits the king who men would loyal keep.
The courtyard, ruddy with the torch's light, Proclaims unspent the deepest hour of night.
Already near the gate my lords appear; Their tinkling bells salute my wakeful ear.
How goes the night? I may not slumber on.
Although not yet the night is wholly gone, The paling torch-light in the court below Gives token that the hours swift-footed go.
Already at the gate my lords appear; Their tinkling bells with measured sound draw near.
How goes the night? I may not slumber now.
The darkness smiles with morning on its brow.
The courtyard torch no more gives forth its ray, But heralds with its smoke the coming day.
My princes pass the gate, and gather there; I see their banners floating in the air.
MORAL LESSONS FROM NATURAL FACTS All true words fly, as from yon reedy marsh The crane rings o'er the wild its screaming harsh.
Vainly you try reason in chains to keep;-- Freely it moves as fish sweeps through the deep.
Hate follows love, as 'neath those sandal-trees The withered leaves the eager searcher sees.
The hurtful ne'er without some good was born;-- The stones that mar the hill will grind the corn.
All true words spread, as from the marsh's eye The crane's sonorous note ascends the sky.
Goodness throughout the widest sphere abides, As fish round isle and through the ocean glides.
And lesser good near greater you shall see, As grows the paper shrub 'neath sandal-tree.
And good emerges from what man condemns;-- Those stones that mar the hill will polish gems.
BOOK IV _The Decade of K[']e-foo_ ON THE COMPLETION OF A ROYAL PALACE On yonder banks a palace, lo! upshoots, The tender blue of southern hill behind; Firm-founded, like the bamboo's clamping roots; Its roof made pine-like, to a point defined.
Fraternal love here bears its precious fruits, And unfraternal schemes be ne'er designed!
Ancestral sway is his. The walls they rear, Five thousand cubits long; and south and west The doors are placed. Here will the king appear, Here laugh, here talk, here sit him down and rest.
To mould the walls, the frames they firmly tie; The toiling builders beat the earth and lime.
The walls shall vermin, storm, and bird defy;-- Fit dwelling is it for his lordly prime.
Grand is the hall the noble lord ascends;-- In height, like human form most reverent, grand; And straight, as flies the shaft when bow unbends; Its tints, like hues when pheasant's wings expand.
High pillars rise the level court around; The pleasant light the open chamber steeps; And deep recesses, wide alcoves, are found, Where our good king in perfect quiet sleeps.
Laid is the bamboo mat on rush mat square;-- Here shall he sleep, and, waking, say, "Divine What dreams are good? For bear and grizzly bear, And snakes and cobras, haunt this couch of mine."
Then shall the chief diviner glad reply, "The bears foreshow that Heaven will send you sons.
The snakes and cobras daughters prophesy.
These auguries are all auspicious ones.
"Sons shall be his--on couches lulled to rest.
The little ones, enrobed, with sceptres play; Their infant cries are loud as stern behest; Their knees the vermeil covers shall display.
As king hereafter one shall be addressed; The rest, our princes, all the States shall sway.
"And daughters also to him shall be born.
They shall be placed upon the ground to sleep; Their playthings tiles, their dress the simplest worn; Their part alike from good and ill to keep, And ne'er their parents' hearts to cause to mourn; To cook the food, and spirit-malt to steep."
THE CONDITION OF KING SEUEN'S FLOCKS Who dares to say your sheep are few?
The flocks are all three hundred strong.
Who dares despise your cattle too?
There ninety, black-lipped, press along.
Though horned the sheep, yet peaceful each appears; The cattle come with moist and flapping ears.
These climb the heights, those drink the pool; Some lie at rest, while others roam.
With rain-coats, and thin splint hats cool, And bearing food, your herdsmen come.
In thirties, ranged by hues, the creatures stand; Fit victims they will yield at your command.
Your herdsmen twigs and fagots bring, With prey of birds and beasts for food.
Your sheep, untouched by evil thing, Approach, their health and vigor good.
The herdsman's waving hand they all behold, And docile come, and pass into the fold.
Your herdsmen dream;--fish take the place Of men; on banners falcons fly, Displacing snakes and tortoises.
The augur tells his prophecy:-- "The first betoken plenteous years; the change Of banners shows of homes a widening range."
BOOK V _The Decade of Seaou Min_ A EUNUCH COMPLAINS OF HIS FATE A few fine lines, at random drawn, Like the shell-pattern wrought in lawn To hasty glance will seem.
My trivial faults base slander's slime Distorted into foulest crime, And men me worthless deem.
A few small points, pricked down on wood, May be made out a picture good Of the bright Southern Sieve.
Who planned, and helped those slanderers vile, My name with base lies to defile?
Unpitied, here I grieve.
With babbling tongues you go about, And only scheme how to make out The lies you scatter round.
Here me--Be careful what you say; People ere long your words will weigh, And liars you'll be found.
Clever you are with changeful schemes!
How else could all your evil dreams And slanders work their way?
Men now believe you; by and by, The truth found out, each vicious lie Will ill for ill repay.
The proud rejoice; the sufferer weeps.
O azure Heaven, from out thy deeps Why look in silence down?
Behold those proud men and rebuke; With pity on the sufferers look, And on the evil frown.
Those slanderers I would gladly take, With all who help their schemes to make, And to the tigers throw.
If wolves and tigers such should spare, I'd hurl them 'midst the freezing air,