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Chinese Literature
BOOK VI
THE DECADE OF PIH SHAN
~A Picture of Husbandry~
Various the toils which fields so large demand!
We choose the seed; we take our tools in hand.
In winter for our work we thus prepare;
Then in the spring, bearing the sharpened 'share,
We to the acres go that south incline,
And to the earth the different seeds consign.
Soon, straight and large, upward each plant aspires;—
All happens as our noble lord desires.
The plants will ear; within their sheath confined,
The grains will harden, and be good in kind.
Nor darnel these, nor wolf's-tail grass infests;
From core and leaf we pick the insect pests,
And pick we those that eat the joints and roots:—
So do we guard from harm the growing fruits.
May the great Spirit, whom each farmer names,
Those insects take, and cast them to the flames!
The clouds o'erspread the sky in masses dense,
And gentle rain down to the earth dispense.
First may the public fields the blessing get,
And then with it our private fields we wet!
Patches of unripe grain the reaper leaves;
And here and there ungathered are the sheaves.
Handfuls besides we drop upon the ground,
And ears untouched in numbers lie around;—
These by the poor and widows shall be found.
When wives and children to the toilers come,
Bringing provisions from each separate home,
Our lord of long descent shall oft appear;
The Inspector also, glad the men to cheer.
They too shall thank the Spirits of the air,
With sacrifices pure for all their care;
Now red, now black, the victims that they slay,
As North or South the sacrifice they pay;
While millet bright the altars always show;—
And we shall thus still greater blessings know.
~The Complaint of an Officer~
O Heaven above, before whose light
Revealed is every deed and thought,
To thee I cry.
Hither on toilsome service brought,
In this wild K'ew I watch time's flight,
And sadly sigh.
The second month had just begun,
When from the east we took our way.
Through summer hot
We passed, and many a wintry day.
Summer again its course has run.
O bitter lot!
There are my compeers, gay at court,
While here the tears my face begrime.
I'd fain return—
But there is that dread net for crime!
The fear of it the wish cuts short.
In vain I burn!
Ere we the royal city left,
The sun and moon renewed the year.
We marched in hope.
Now to its close this year is near.
Return deferred, of hope bereft,
All mourn and mope.
My lonesome state haunts aye my breast,
While duties grow, and cares increase,
Too hard to bear.
Toils that oppress me never cease;
Not for a moment dare I rest,
Nigh to despair.
I think with fond regard of those,
Who in their posts at court remain,
My friends of old.
Fain would I be with them again,
But fierce reproof return would cause.
This post I hold.
When for the West I left my home,
The sun and moon both mildly shone,
Our hearts to cheer.
We'd soon be back, our service done!
Alas! affairs more urgent come,
And fix us here.
The year is hastening to expire.
We gather now the southern-wood,
The beans we reap;—
That for its fragrance, these for food.
Such things that constant care require
Me anxious keep.
Thinking of friends still at their posts,
I rise and pass the night outside,
So vexed my mind.
But soon what changes may betide?
I here will stay, whate'er it costs,
And be resigned.
My honored friends, O do not deem
Your rest which seems secure from ill
Will ever last!
Your duties quietly fulfil,
And hold the upright in esteem,
With friendship fast.
So shall the Spirits hear your cry,
You virtuous make, and good supply,
In measure vast.
My honored friends, O do not deem
Repose that seems secure from ill
Will lasting prove.
Your duties quietly fulfil,
And hold the upright in esteem,
With earnest love.
So shall the Spirits hear your prayer,
And on you happiness confer,
Your hopes above.
BOOK VII
DECADE OF SANG HOO
~The Rejoicings of a Bridegroom~
With axle creaking, all on fire I went,
To fetch my young and lovely bride.
No thirst or hunger pangs my bosom rent—
I only longed to have her by my side.
I feast with her, whose virtue fame had told,
Nor need we friends our rapture to behold.
The long-tailed pheasants surest covert find,
Amid the forest on the plain.
Here from my virtuous bride, of noble mind,
And person tall, I wisdom gain.
I praise her while we feast, and to her say,
"The love I bear you ne'er will know decay.
"Poor we may be; spirits and viands fine
My humble means will not afford.
But what we have, we'll taste and not repine;
From us will come no grumbling word.
And though to you no virtue I can add,
Yet we will sing and dance, in spirit glad.
"I oft ascend that lofty ridge with toil,
And hew large branches from the oaks;
Then of their leafy glory them I spoil,
And fagots form with vigorous strokes.
Returning tired, your matchless grace I see,
And my whole soul dissolves in ecstasy.
"To the high hills I looked, and urged each steed;
The great road next was smooth and plain.
Up hill, o'er dale, I never slackened speed;
Like lute-string sounded every rein.
I knew, my journey ended, I should come
To you, sweet bride, the comfort of my home."
~Against Listening to Slanderers~
Like the blueflies buzzing round,
And on the fences lighting,
Are the sons of slander found,
Who never cease their biting.
O thou happy, courteous king,
To the winds their slanders fling.
Buzzing round the blueflies hear,
About the jujubes flocking!
So the slanderers appear,
Whose calumnies are shocking.
By no law or order bound,
All the kingdom they confound.
How they buzz, those odious flies,
Upon the hazels clust'ring!
And as odious are the lies
Of those slanderers blust'ring.
Hatred stirred between us two
Shows the evil they can do.
BOOK VIII
THE DECADE OF TOO JIN SZE
~In Praise of By-gone Simplicity~
In the old capital they stood,
With yellow fox-furs plain,
Their manners all correct and good,
Speech free from vulgar stain.
Could we go back to Chow's old days,
All would look up to them with praise.
In the old capital they wore
T'ae hats and black caps small;
And ladies, who famed surnames bore,
Their own thick hair let fall.
Such simple ways are seen no more,
And the changed manners I deplore.
Ear-rings, made of plainest gold,
In the old days were worn.
Each lady of a noble line
A Yin or Keih seemed born.
Such officers and ladies now
I see not and my sorrows grow.
With graceful sweep their girdles fell,
Then in the days of old.
The ladies' side-hair, with a swell,
Like scorpion's tail, rose bold.
Such, if I saw them in these days,
I'd follow with admiring gaze.
So hung their girdles, not for show;—
To their own length 'twas due.
'Twas not by art their hair curled so;—
By nature so it grew.
I seek such manners now in vain,
And pine for them with longing pain.
[NOTE.—Yin and Keih were clan names of great families, the ladies of which would be leaders of fashion in the capital.]
~A Wife Bemoans Her Husband's Absence~
So full am I of anxious thought,
Though all the morn king-grass I've sought,
To fill my arms I fail.
Like wisp all-tangled is my hair!
To wash it let me home repair.
My lord soon may I hail!
Though 'mong the indigo I've wrought
The morning long; through anxious thought
My skirt's filled but in part.
Within five days he was to appear;
The sixth has come and he's not here.
Oh! how this racks my heart!
When here we dwelt in union sweet,
If the hunt called his eager feet,
His bow I cased for him.
Or if to fish he went away,
And would be absent all the day,
His line I put in trim.
What in his angling did he catch?
Well worth the time it was to watch
How bream and tench he took.
Men thronged upon the banks and gazed;
At bream and tench they looked amazed,
The triumphs of his hook.
~The Earl of Shaou's Work~
As the young millet, by the genial rain
Enriched, shoots up luxuriant and tall,
So, when we southward marched with toil and pain,
The Earl of Shaou cheered and inspired us all.
We pushed our barrows, and our burdens bore;
We drove our wagons, and our oxen led.
"The work once done, our labor there is o'er,
And home we travel," to ourselves we said.
Close kept our footmen round the chariot track;
Our eager host in close battalions sped.
"When once our work is done, then we go back,
Our labor over," to themselves they said.
Hard was the work we had at Seay to do,
But Shaou's great earl the city soon upreared.
The host its service gave with ardor true;—
Such power in all the earl's commands appeared!
We did on plains and low lands what was meet;
We cleared the springs and streams, the land to drain.
The Earl of Shaou announced his work complete,
And the King's heart reposed, at rest again.
~The Plaint of King Yew's Forsaken Wife~
The fibres of the white-flowered rush
Are with the white grass bound.
So do the two together go,
In closest union found.
And thus should man and wife abide,
The twain combined in one;
But this bad man sends me away,
And bids me dwell alone.
Both rush and grass from the bright clouds
The genial dew partake.
Kind and impartial, nature's laws
No odious difference make.
But providence appears unkind;
Events are often hard.
This man, to principle untrue,
Denies me his regard.
Northward the pools their waters send,
To flood each paddy field;
So get the fields the sap they need,
Their store of rice to yield.
But that great man no deed of grace
Deigns to bestow on me.
My songs are sighs. At thought of him
My heart aches wearily.
The mulberry branches they collect,
And use their food to cook;
But I must use a furnace small,
That pot nor pan will brook.
So me that great man badly treats,
Nor uses as his wife,
Degrades me from my proper place,
And fills with grief my life.
The bells and drums inside the court
Men stand without and hear;
So should the feelings in my breast,
To him distinct appear.
All-sorrowful, I think of him,
Longing to move his love;
But he vouchsafes no kind response;
His thoughts far from me rove.
The marabow stands on the dam,
And to repletion feeds;
The crane deep in the forest cries,
Nor finds the food it needs.
So in my room the concubine
By the great man is placed;
While I with cruel banishment
Am cast out and disgraced.
The yellow ducks sit on the dam,
With left wing gathered low;
So on each other do they lean,
And their attachment show.
And love should thus the man and wife
In closest concord bind;
But that man turns away from me,
And shows a fickle mind.
When one stands on a slab of stone,
No higher than the ground,
Nothing is added to his height;—
Low with the stone he's found.
So does the favorite's mean estate
Render that great man mean,
While I by him, to distance sent,
Am pierced with sorrow keen.
~Hospitality~
A few gourd leaves that waved about
Cut down and boiled;—the feast how spare!
But the good host his spirits takes,
Pours out a cup, and proves them rare.
A single rabbit on the mat,
Or baked, or roast:—how small the feast!
But the good host his spirits takes,
And fills the cup of every guest.
A single rabbit on the mat,
Roasted or broiled:—how poor the meal!
But the guests from the spirit vase
Fill their host's cup, and drink his weal.
A single rabbit on the mat,
Roasted or baked:—no feast we think!
But from the spirit vase they take,
Both host and guests, and joyous drink.
~On the Misery of Soldiers~
Yellow now is all the grass;
All the days in marching pass.
On the move is every man;
Hard work, far and near, they plan.
Black is every plant become;
Every man is torn from home.
Kept on foot, our state is sad;—
As if we no feelings had!
Not rhinoceroses we!
Tigers do we care to be?
Fields like these so desolate
Are to us a hateful fate.
Long-tailed foxes pleased may hide
'Mong the grass, where they abide.
We, in box carts slowly borne,
On the great roads plod and mourn.
PART III.—GREATER ODES OF THE KINGDOM
BOOK I
DECADE OF KING WAN
~Celebrating King Wan~
The royal Wan now rests on high,
Enshrined in brightness of the sky.
Chow as a state had long been known,
And Heaven's decree at last was shown.
Its lords had borne a glorious name;
God kinged them when the season came.
King Wan ruled well when earth he trod;
Now moves his spirit near to God.
A strong-willed, earnest king was Wan,
And still his fame rolls widening on.
The gifts that God bestowed on Chow
Belong to Wan's descendants now.
Heaven blesses still with gifts divine
The hundred scions of his line;
And all the officers of Chow
From age to age more lustrous grow.
More lustrous still from age to age,
All reverent plans their zeal engage;
And brilliant statesmen owe their birth
To this much-favored spot of earth.
They spring like products of the land—
The men by whom the realm doth stand.
Such aid their numerous bands supply,
That Wan rests tranquilly on high.
Deep were Wan's thoughts, sustained his ways;
His reverence lit its trembling rays.
Resistless came great Heaven's decree;
The sons of Shang must bend the knee;—
The sons of Shang, each one a king,
In numbers beyond numbering.
Yet as God spoke, so must it be:—
The sons of Shang all bent the knee.
Now each to Chow his homage pays—
So dark and changing are Heaven's ways.
When we pour our libations here,
The officers of Shang appear,
Quick and alert to give their aid:—
Such is the service by them paid,
While still they do not cast aside
The cap and broidered axe—their pride.
Ye servants of our line of kings,
Remember him from whom it springs.
Remember him from whom it springs;—
Let this give to your virtue wings.
Seek harmony with Heaven's great mind;—
So shall you surest blessing find.
Ere Shang had lost the nation's heart,
Its monarchs all with God had part
In sacrifice. From them you see
'Tis hard to keep high Heaven's decree.
'Tis hard to keep high Heaven's decree!
O sin not, or you cease to be.
To add true lustre to your name,
See Shang expire in Heaven's dread flame.
For Heaven's high dealings are profound,
And far transcend all sense and sound.
From Wan your pattern you must draw,
And all the States will own your law.
[Book II. is omitted]
BOOK III [*]
DECADE OF TANG
~King Seuen on the Occasion of a Great Drought~
Grand shone the Milky Way on high,
With brilliant span athwart the sky,
Nor promise gave of rain.
King Seuen long gazed; then from him broke,
In anguished tones the words he spoke.
Well might he thus complain!
"O Heaven, what crimes have we to own,
That death and ruin still come down?
Relentless famine fills our graves.
Pity the king who humbly craves!
Our miseries never cease.
To every Spirit I have vowed;
The choicest victim's blood has flowed.
As offerings I have freely paid
My store of gems and purest jade.
Hear me, and give release!
"The drought consumes us. As on wing
Its fervors fly, and torment bring.
With purest mind and ceaseless care
My sacrifices I prepare.
At thine own border altars, Heaven,
And in my father's fane, I've given
What might relief have found.
What Powers above, below, have sway,
To all my precious gifts I pay,
Then bury in the ground.
Yes, every Spirit has received
Due honor, and, still unrelieved,
Our sufferings greater grow.
How-tseih can't give the needed aid,
And help from God is still delayed!
The country lies a ruined waste.
O would that I alone might taste
This bitter cup of woe!
"The drought consumes us. Nor do I
To fix the blame on others try.
I quake with dread; the risk I feel,
As when I hear the thunders peal,
Or fear its sudden crash.
Our black-haired race, a remnant now,
Will every one be swept from Chow,
As by the lightning's flash.
Nor I myself will live alone.
God from his great and heavenly throne
Will not spare even me.
O friends and officers, come, blend
Your prayers with mine; come, lowly bend.
Chow's dynasty will pass away;
Its altars at no distant day
In ruins all shall be!
"The drought consumes us. It keeps on
Its fatal course. All hope is gone.
The air more fierce and fiery glows.
Where can I fly? Where seek repose?
Death marks me for its prey.
Above, no saving hand! Around,
No hope, no comfort, can be found.
The dukes and ministers of old
Give us no help. Can ye withhold
Your sympathy, who lately reigned?
And parents, how are you restrained,
In this so dreadful day?
"The drought consumes us. There on high
The hills are parched. The streams are dry.
Drought's demon stalks abroad in ire,
And scatters wide his flames and fire.
Alas, my woful heart!
The fires within its strength consume;
The heat without creates a gloom
That from it will not part.
The dukes and ministers by-gone
Respond not to my prayer and moan.
God in great Heaven, permission give
That I may in retirement live,
And try to heal my smart!
"The drought consumes us. Still I strive,
And will not leave while I survive.
Duty to shun I fear.
Why upon me has come this drought?
Vainly I try to search it out,
Vainly, with quest severe.
For a good harvest soon I prayed,
Nor late the rites I duly paid,
To Spirits of the air and land.
There wanted nought they could demand,
Their favor to secure.
God in great heaven, be just, be kind!
Thou dost not bear me in Thy mind.
My cry, ye wisest Spirits, hear!
Ye whom I constantly revere,
Why do I this endure?
"The drought consumes us. People fly,
And leave their homes. Each social tie
And bond of rule is snapt.
The Heads of Boards are all perplexed;
My premier's mind is sorely vexed;
In trouble all are wrapt.
The Masters of my Horse and Guards;
My cook, and men of different wards:—
Not one has from the struggle shrunk.
Though feeling weak, they have not sunk,
But done their best to aid.
To the great sky I look with pain;—
Why do these grievous sorrows rain
On my devoted head?
"Yes, at the mighty sky I gaze,
And lo! the stars pursue their maze,
And sparkle clear and bright.
Ah! Heaven nor helps, nor seems to ken.
Great officers and noble men,
With all your powers ye well have striven,
And reverently have sought from Heaven
Its aid in our great fight.
My death is near; but oh! keep on,
And do as thus far you have done.
Regard you only me?
No, for yourselves and all your friends,
On whom for rule the land depends,
You seek security.
I turn my gaze to the great sky;—
When shall this drought be done, and I
Quiet and restful be?"
[NOTE *Selections from Book II. are omitted.—EDITOR.]
PART IV.—ODES OF THE TEMPLE AND ALTAR
BOOK I
SACRIFICIAL ODES OF CHOW
~Appropriate to a Sacrifice to King Wan~
My offerings here are given,
A ram, a bull.
Accept them, mighty Heaven,
All-bountiful.
Thy statutes, O great king,
I keep, I love;
So on the realm to bring
Peace from above.
From Wan comes blessing rich;
Now on the right
He owns those gifts to which
Him I invite.
Do I not night and day,
Revere great Heaven,
That thus its favor may
To Chow be given?
~On Sacrificing to the Kings Woo, Ching, and K'ang~
The arm of Woo was full of might;
None could his fire withstand;
And Ching and K'ang stood forth to sight,
As kinged by God's own hand.
We err not when we call them sage.
How grandly they maintained
Their hold of all the heritage
That Wan and Woo had gained!
As here we worship, they descend,
While bells and drums resound,
And stones and lutes their music blend.
With blessings we are crowned.
The rites correctly we discharge;
The feast we freely share.
Those Sires Chow's glory will enlarge,
And ever for it care.
THE TRAVELS OF FÂ-HIEN
[Translation by James Legge]
