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Chinese Literature
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 TO 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
THE DECADE OF TUNG RUNG
~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 Levée~
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.
Hear 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,
Td hurl them 'midst the freezing air,
Where the keen north winds blow.
And should the North compassion feel
I'd fling them to great Heaven, to deal
On them its direst woe.
As on the sacred heights you dwell,
My place is in the willow dell,
One is the other near.
Before you, officers, I spread
These lines by me, poor eunuch, made.
Think not Mang-tsze severe.
~An Officer Deplores the Misery of the Time~
In the fourth month summer shines;
In the sixth the heat declines.
Nature thus grants men relief;
Tyranny gives only grief.
Were not my forefathers men?
Can my suffering 'scape their ken?
In the cold of autumn days
Each plant shrivels and decays.
Nature then is hard and stern;
Living things sad lessons learn.
Friends dispersed, all order gone,
Place of refuge have I none.
Winter days are wild and fierce;
Rapid gusts each crevice pierce.
Such is my unhappy lot,
Unbefriended and forgot!
Others all can happy be;
I from misery ne'er am free.
On the mountains are fine trees;
Chestnuts, plum-trees, there one sees.
All the year their forms they show;
Stately more and more they grow.
Noble turned to ravening thief!
What the cause? This stirs my grief.
Waters from that spring appear
Sometimes foul, and sometimes clear,
Changing oft as falls the rain,
Or the sky grows bright again.
New misfortunes every day
Still befall me, misery's prey.
Aid from mighty streams obtained,
Southern States are shaped and drained.
Thus the Keang and Han are thanked,
And as benefactors ranked.
Weary toil my vigor drains;
All unnoticed it remains!
Hawks and eagles mount the sky;
Sturgeons in deep waters lie.
Out of reach, they safely get,
Arrow fear not, nor the net.
Hiding-place for me there's none;
Here I stay, and make my moan.
Ferns upon the hills abound;
Ke and e in marshy ground.
Each can boast its proper place,
Where it grows for use or grace.
I can only sing the woe,
Which, ill-starred, I undergo.
~On the Alienation of a Friend~
Gently and soft the east wind blows,
And then there falls the pelting rain.
When anxious fears pressed round you close,
Then linked together were we twain.
Now happy, and your mind at rest,
You turn and cast me from your breast.
Gently and soft the east wind blows,
And then there comes the whirlwind wild.
When anxious fears pressed round you close,
Your bosom held me as a child.
Now happy, and in peaceful state,
You throw me off and quite forget.
Gently and soft the east wind blows,
Then round the rocky height it storms.
Each plant its leaves all dying shows;
The trees display their withered forms.
My virtues great forgotten all,
You keep in mind my faults, though small.
