Chapter LI: LING (First Century B.C.) (1)

Li Ling was a military commander in the Han Dynasty. Given command of an army in the war against the Hsiung-nu he rashly advanced into the enemy's country with only a few thousand soldiers, who were surrounded and all but three or four hundred killed, and Li Ling was captured, and spent the rest of his life in exile. His name is mentioned in the Introduction to this book of translations.

CHU KWANG-HI.

Chu Kwang-hi was a soldier of the T'ang Dynasty. He passed the highest literary examinations, and was appointed a member of the Censorate by the Emperor Hsueen Tsong.

CHEN TZE-ANG.

A celebrated scholar of the T'ang Dynasty. He filled various official offices, but is most famous for the work he did in advancing the renaissance of literature during the T'ang Dynasty. Wang Shih, a learned writer of the same period, said that Chen Tze-ang was the most famous scholar in the Empire of that time.

T'AO YUEN-MING (A.D. 365-427).

T'ao T'sien (T'ao Yuen-ming) was a scholar and poet of the Song Dynasty. He was appointed Magistrate of a district, but after filling the office only a short time he resigned it and retired into private life, spending the remainder of his years in writing poetry and in musical pursuits.

CHINESE POEMS

_Only a Fragrant Spray_

NAME OF POET UNKNOWN (HAN DYNASTY OR EARLIER)

Ah me, the day you left me
Was full of weary hours;
But the tree 'neath which we parted
Was rich with leaves and flowers.

And from its fragrant branches
I plucked a tiny spray,
And hid it in my bosom
In memory of that day.

I know the endless distance
Must shut you from my view,
But the flower's gentle fragrance
Brings sweetest thoughts of you.

And, though it's but a trifle,
Which none would prize for gain,
It oft renews our parting,
With all the love and pain.

_The River By Night in Spring_

BY CHANG POH-HSUe

In Spring the flooded river meets the tide
Which from the ocean surges to the land;
The moon across the rolling water shines
From wave to wave to reach the distant strand.

And when the heaving sea and river meet,
The latter turns and floods the fragrant fields;
While in the moon's pale light as shimmering sleet
Alike seem sandy shores and wooded wealds.

For sky and river in one colour blend,
Without a spot of dust to mar the scene;
While in the heavens above the full-orbed moon
In white and lustrous beauty hangs serene.

And men and women, as the fleeting years,
Are born into this world and pass away;
And still the river flows, the moon shines fair,
And will their courses surely run for ay.

But who was he who first stood here and gazed
Upon the river and the heavenly light?
And when did moon and river first behold
The solitary watcher in the night?

The maples sigh upon the river's bank,
A white cloud drifts across the azure dome;
In yonder boat some traveller sails to-night
Beneath the moon which links his thoughts with home.

Above the home it seems to hover long,
And peep through chinks within her chamber blind;
The moon-borne message she cannot escape,
Alas, the husband tarries far behind!

She looks across the gulf but hears no voice,
Until her heart with longing leaps apace,
And fain would she the silvery moonbeams follow
Until they shine upon her loved one's face.

'Last night,' she murmured sadly to herself,
'I dreamt of falling flowers by shady ponds;
My Spring, ah me! half through its course has sped,
But you return not to your wedded bonds.'

For ever onward flows the mighty stream;
The Spring, half gone, is gliding to its rest;
While on the river and the silent pools
The moonbeams fall obliquely from the west.

And now the moon descending to the verge
Has disappeared beneath the sea-borne dew;
While stretch the waters of the 'Siao and Siang',[1]
And rocks and cliffs, in never-ending view.

How many wanderers by to-night's pale moon
Have met with those from whom so long apart:--
As on the shore midst flowerless trees I stand
Thoughts old and new surge through my throbbing heart!

[1] Two streams flowing into the Yangtze River.

_The Beauty of Snow_

BY PAO-CHAO

A thousand miles across the Dragon Mountains
The North Wind blows the whirling flakes of snow,
Until they gather on my terraced garden,
And drift before the gate in furrowed row.

Unlike the coloured plum and fragrant peach trees,
Whose buds stretch forth to greet the warm Spring days,
At dawn the snow lies in unsullied whiteness,
But flees to shelter from the sun's bright rays.

The peach flower and the plum flower have a beauty,
Which flourish in the warmth of sun and shower;
The snow's brief charm is purity and brightness,
It does not claim the sun tints of the flower.

_A Maiden's Reverie_

T'SIN DYNASTY, A.D. 265-419

The plum-tree's flower awakens
Thoughts of my lover now,
And I would pluck some blossoms
And send to far Si-chow.

But such a distant region
The flowers might never reach,
While if I go in person,
How great the joy to each!

I'll brush my glossy tresses,
More dark than raven's plume;
I'll wear my plum silk mantle,
And banish tears and gloom.

But where, alack, is Si-chow?
Far in the North, I know;
Oh, when I've crossed the river
I'll ask which way to go!

Ah me, the sun is setting,
Si-chow is far away;
The birds are homeward turning,
I cannot start to-day.

I'll keep an evening vigil
Beneath the cedar-tree
That stands outside the porch-way;
My love may come to me!

The jewels my hair adorning
Are glistening with the dew;
But still my lover tarries;--
What keeps him from my view?

A gentle breeze is blowing,
The night is bright as day;
I'll go and gather lilies,
And meet him on the way.

In the early Autumn season
The lotus lilies red
Are in the south pool growing,
And reach above my head.

My thoughts on old times musing,
I stoop to pluck some seeds,
In their shimmering greenness
As water 'mongst the reeds.

I put some in my bosom,
For the core is red as blood,
As the heart of a true lover,
When love is at the flood.

Pressed to my bosom closely--
No safer place, I wot,
For tokens of betrothal;
And yet my love comes not!

Above my head in batches
The wild geese northward hie,
And they will pass o'er Si-chow!
Oh, would that I could fly!

I'll mount the northern turret;
Perhaps from that lofty height
I'll see my lover coming,
The herald of the light.

Although the tower is lofty,
I cannot see afar
To where my love is dwelling,
Beneath the Northern Star.

From morn until the evening--
How long the hours do seem!--
I've paced around the turret,
As in a weary dream.

Once more I'll raise the curtain,
And show my lamp's pale light;
My love may miss the pathway,
And wander in the night.

How lofty are the heavens!
How vast the heaving sea!
Ah, life is sad and dreary
When love comes not to me!

But though my heart is weary,
I trust my lover's vow;
The south wind knows my longings
And will bear them to Si-chow.

And though the seas divide us
Our hearts are one for ay,
And in sweet dreams will mingle
Until the meeting day.

_A Song of the Marches_

BY LI TAI-PEH

T'ANG DYNASTY

The Tien-shan peaks still glisten
In robes of spotless white;
To songs of Spring I listen,
But see no flowers around.

The ground is bare and dreary,
No voice of Spring I hear,
Save the 'Willow Song',[2] so eerie,
I play upon my flute.

At morn the fight will follow
The sound of bugle call;
Each man, in sleep, the hollow[3]
Across his saddle clasps.

And by his side unrusted,
His sword is closely laid,
With which he long has trusted
The tyrant foe[4] to slay.

On noble chargers riding,
And fleeter than the wind,
All fears and risks deriding,
They cross the river Wei.

Their bows are tautened tightly,
Their quivers full of shafts,
They face the danger lightly,
And charge the haughty foe.

As rocks by lightning riven
Their ranks are rent apart;
As clouds by tempest driven
They break and flee away.

Then on the sand, blood-streaming,
The weary victors sleep,
Their swords with hoar-frost gleaming,
Their bows dark shadows cast.

The Pass has been defended,
The foes are scattered far,
The soldiers' wives untended
May seek their homes again.

[2] The name of a tune.

[3] The Chinese saddle is curved upwards both in front and at the back, leaving a deep hollow in the centre where the rider sits.

[4] Tartar tribes beyond the frontiers.

_The Cowherd and the Spinning-Maid_[5]

BY LUH-KI

Brightly shines the Starry River
Flowing down the Heavenly glade;
From the north-west comes the 'Herd-Boy',
From the south-east looks the 'Maid'.

Quickly waves a white hand shapely,
Sadly smiles her beauteous face,
When she sees her faithful lover
Far across the glittering space.

Arms stretched out towards each other--
With impulsive feet they stand;
Eyes with sorrow's tears bedewed--
On the Star-Stream's shining strand.

But, alas, that bridgeless River
Is the cause of all their pain,
Dooming 'Spinning-Maid' and 'Herd-Boy'
Nevermore to meet again.

[5] According to a Chinese legend the stars K'ien-Niu (Cowherd) and Chih-Nue (Spinning-Maid) are two lovers, doomed by the gods to live on opposite sides of the 'River of Stars' (Milky Way). As there is no bridge over this river, the two lovers can only stand afar and gaze at each other. (See note to 'The Swallow's Song'.)

_The Old Soldier's Return_

AN ANCIENT POEM: POET UNKNOWN

I was but fifteen when I left my friends
For distant climes to fight our Country's foe,
And now I'm eighty--back for the first time
To see the home I left so long ago.

Where is the house? I should be near it now,
Yet possibly I may have gone astray;
Long years abroad have blurred the youthful brain,
I'll ask this countryman to point the way.

'The house is yonder--midst those grassy mounds,
Beneath the shade of fir and cypress trees,
And there lie buried all the kith and kin
Of former tillers of these fallow leas.'

The veteran sighed and wandered to the house,
And found it overgrown and desolate;
A startled hare fled through the kennel's hole,
And pheasants flew from ceiling beams ornate.

Exhausted by the journey and his grief,
The old man plucked some grain from patches wild,
And mallows from around the courtyard well,
As in the days when but a little child.

But when the homely fare was cooked and spread,
And not a friend to cheer the lonely place,
He rose, and going out to eastward gazed,
While tears flowed down his worn and furrowed face.

_On the Lake near the Western Mountains_

BY CH'ANG KIEN.

T'ANG DYNASTY (ANCIENT STYLE)

Here at the foot-hills of the Western Mountains
My boat rides idly on the current's trail,
And in the lengthening radiance of the sunset
It seems to chase its own reflected sail.

While in the rarer light that heralds evening
The forms of all things clearer seem to grow;
The forests and the glades and mountain ranges
Catch added beauty from the afterglow.

The graceful minarets in cloudland floating
From jadestone green take on a sombre hue,
But still flush rose tints in the darkness falling,
Although the sun has disappeared from view.

The shadows of the islands and the islets
Stretch far across the surface of the lake;
The evening mists that float above the waters
Are bright as rain-clouds after showers break.

In the distance Tsu's[6] abounding forests
Reveal their sombre outlines in the gloom;
While on the farther shore the gates of King-chow
Within the growing darkness faintly loom.

The atmosphere with nightfall groweth clearer,
A north wind blows with shrill voice through the land;
While on the sandy stretches by the waters
The swan and stork in dreamy silence stand.

The waters now have ceased from restless heaving,
My little boat is screened by rushes green;
The moon emerging from the lake's horizon
A soft light sheds upon the silent scene.

Amid the silence and the ghostly beauty
I touch my lute to plaintive songs of old,
And soon the pleasant strains and long-drawn cadence
Have seized my senses in their subtle hold.

Thus in such ecstasy the hours pass quickly,
And midnight comes with undetected speed;
But now the heavy dew upon me falling
Recalls my senses to the body's need.

Ah me! my body's but a fragile vessel
Upon the ever-moving sea of life,
Where light and shade and fitful joys and sorrows
Control me in their everchanging strife.

[6] The name of a large feudal State in the Cheu Dynasty; it included Hupeh and Hunan and parts of Honan and Kiangsu. King-chow on the Yangtze was the capital.

_The Happy Farmer_

BY CHU KWANG-HI

T'ANG DYNASTY

I've a hundred mulberry trees
And thirty 'mow' of grain,
With sufficient food and clothes,
And friends my wine to drain.

The fragrant grain of 'Ku-mi' seed
Provides our Summer fare;
Our Autumn brew of aster wine
Is rich beyond compare.

My goodwife comes with smiling face
To welcome all our guests;
My children run with willing feet
To carry my behests.

When work is done and evening come,
We saunter to the park,
And there, 'neath elm and willow trees
We're blithe as soaring lark.

With wine and song the hours fly by
Till each in cloudland roams,
And then, content with all the world,
We wander to our homes.

Through lattice-window steals a breeze,
As on my couch I lie,
While overhead the 'Silver Stream'
Flows through a splendid sky.

And as I gaze it comes to mind--
A dozen jars at least
Of the aster-scented wine remain
To grace to-morrow's feast.

_An Old House Unroofed by an Autumn Gale_

BY TU FU

T'ANG DYNASTY

The roof of my house has been blown away
By the fiercest of Autumn winds to-day;
It was merely of grass and branches built--
Yet my only shelter save a wadded quilt.

Across the river it scurried and whirled,
In tangled tufts, by the hurricane hurled,
Ascending in gusts till caught by the trees,
Or falling in ponds and on furrowed leas.

In great delight the village urchins shout,
And say I'm old and cannot run about;
And now before my face the rogues begin
To steal things, and then run away and grin.

At last I drive them off and hobble back
To find my home is shelterless, alack!
My lips are parched, my tongue is stiff and dry;
My strength is gone, I can but rest and sigh.

The wind has slackened but dark clouds affright,
And wintry is the fast approaching night;
My bed is worn and hard, my clothing spare,
I cannot sleep for pain and anxious care.

The rain still drizzles through the rafters high,
'Tween which I see the drifting stormy sky,
And everything is damp and comfortless:
What can be done to lighten such distress?

Oh, would there were a mansion of delight,
A hundred million rooms both fair and bright,
To shelter all the poor beneath the skies,
And give the joy which lasting peace supplies.

Could I but see this mansion rise sublime
Before my eyes at this, or any time;
My house and life to lose I'd be content,
Could such great blessing to the world be sent.

_The Lament of the Ladies of the Siang River_[7]

BY YUEN I-SHAN

The rose and orchid deck the fragrant isles,
And white clouds fly towards the Northern strand;
But though a thousand autumns pass away,
Our 'Lord' will not return to mortal's land.

The clouds are drifting to and fro in vain,
Across the river blows the autumn breeze,
And o'er the water floats a fine, white mist,
While moonlight falls on stream and wooded leas.

Upon the lofty 'Kiu-e'[8] mountain range
Throughout the night the gibbons wail and call,
And from the voiceless boughs of tall bamboos
The tears so long retained in dewdrops fall.

[7] According to a Chinese legend the Ladies of the Siang River are Nue-Ying and Ngo-Hwang, the two wives of the Emperor Shun, and this poem describes their lament for his death.

[8] According to another legend the Emperor Shun was buried in the Kiu-i Mountains.

_The Waters of the Mei-Pei_

BY TU FU

T'ANG DYNASTY

Two friends whose love of wonders led them oft
To leave the haunts and scenes of every day,
Invited me to join them in a voyage
Across the waters of the dread Mei-Pei![9]

Where nature in her changeful moods is seen,
In grandeur and in terror side by side;
Where mighty forces alter heaven and earth,
And puny human strength and life deride.

Will countless billows of the wide expanse
In ceaseless motion mount and roll afar?
Through fluid piles of seeming crystal rocks
Will our boat sail beyond the sheltering bar?

Delightful is the venture that we take,
And yet dire fears will gather in our throat,
The gavial huge may come in search of prey,
The monster whales may overturn our boat!

Fierce winds may rise and billows roll and break!
But our brave friends unloose the flowing sail,
And through the scattering flocks of duck and tern
The boat glides on--the white foam in our trail.

The pure and bracing air inflates our lungs--
Afar from towns where dust with cleanness vies;
The boatmen chant gay ditties as they work,
While sounds of lutes rise to the azure skies.

As fresh as dew on early morning flowers
The leaves of water-lilies float around,
Upon the surface of the water clear,
Through which we peer in vain to find the ground.

Then yielding to the current, broad and strong,
Toward the central flood we quickly forge;
The waters pure as those of Puh and Hsiai,[10]
Yet darkly deep as in the Chong-Nan gorge.[11]

The mountain heights whose base abuts the lake
Are mirrored clearly in the southern end;
The Great Peace Temple, which in cloudland hangs,
Reflects its image in the eastern bend.

The moon has risen, and its silver beams
Across the Lan-Tien Pass[12] in beauty glow,
While we sit idly on the vessel's side
And watch the nodding peaks in depths below.

And as we view the mirage of the heights
Which tower in mighty strength above our heads,
The swift Li-Long[13] in prodigal display
A shower of pearls upon the water spreads.

The Ruler of the Rivers[14] beats his drum,
And dragons haste the summons to obey;
The Consorts[15] of the ancient king descend,
Led by the Maiden of the Star-lit Way.[16]

To branched instruments of beaten gold,
Adorned with pendants of sapphire and jade,
They sing, and dance, midst lights of many hues,
Which flash in splendour, then in darkness fade.

In ecstasy we watch the wondrous scene,
But awe and joy are mingled in our mind,
For now far off we hear the thunder peal,
And lowering clouds with lurid lights are lined.

The waters heave with burdensome unrest,
The air is full of shadows of the dead;
The Spirits of the Universe are near,
And we cannot divine their portents dread.

And such is life--an hour of changing scenes
Of fitful joy and quickly following grief;
An hour of buoyant youth in rapid flight,
And then old age to end life--sad and brief!

[9] A vast body of water in some wild and remote part of the Empire, probably in the north-west; but the exact locality is disputed.

[10] The names of two rivers, or the two words combined may mean the clear water of a deep cove or inlet.

[11] A deep gorge in the Chong-nan Mountains in Shen-si.

[12] A famous Pass near Si-ngan, the provincial capital of Shen-si.

[13] A fabulous Dragon whose mythological ancestry and habitat I am unable to trace.

[14] Ping-i, name of the Chinese God of Waters.

[15] Nue-Ying and Ngo-Hwang, daughters of the Emperor Yao, and wives of the Emperor Shun (2288 B.C.?).

[16] The Spinning-Maid. See legend of Cowherd and Spinning-Maid.

_The Swallow's Song_[17]

BY EMPEROR WEN

OF THE WEI DYNASTY (A.D. 220-264)

The autumn winds are blowing,
The air is cool and drear,
The forest leaves are falling,
The grass is scant and sear.

The dew to hoar-frost changes,
And swallows southward fly;
While from the North in batches
The wild swan cloud the sky.

And I such signs discerning
Think of you, husband dear,
And long for your home-coming
From marches long and drear.

Why do you longer tarry
In such a distant place?
Think of my lonely vigils,
Sad thoughts and tear-stained face!

The harp I often finger,
And try to sing a song;
But soon I sigh and falter,
And for your coming long.

The Moon's pure light is shining
Upon my lonely bed;
The 'Star-Stream's'[18] westward flowing,
The night is not far sped.

The Cowherd and the Spinning-Girl[19]
Lament the doom that bars
The meeting of true lovers,
Across the Stream of Stars.

What folly did they ponder
To meet so dire a fate?
I wonder if we also
Are doomed to trial as great!

[17] In this poem the thoughts of a woman, whose husband is engaged in the wars beyond the frontier, are described by the poet.

[18] The Milky Way.

[19] K'ien-Niu (Cowherd) and Chih-Nue (Spinning-Girl) are the names of two stars and, according to a Chinese legend, these two stars are lovers doomed to gaze at each other across the wide 'River of Stars'; i.e. the Milky Way, but never meet. According to one version of the legend, however, the lovers are allowed to meet once a year, on the seventh night of the Seventh Month, when birds form a bridge over the 'River of Stars' to enable the Spinning-Girl to meet her lover.

_Farewell to a Comrade_

BY CHEN KIA-CHOW

T'ANG DYNASTY

Cold gusts from Arctic regions sweep the ground,
And snowflakes countless fly through the wintry sky,
Covering with spotless robe the earth around,
While snow flowers frail on twigs and branches lie.

As when a genial breeze in early Spring
Shakes open all the pear-trees' blossoms white,
And sombre-looking trees with leafless boughs
Are decked with radiance in a single night.

Through crevices and slits in bamboo blinds,
Which shield the entrance to our hempen tent,
Snow-whirls and keen winds blow and chill the blood,
In spite of furs and wadded garments blent.

Cold so intense is felt by all alike--
The General cannot stretch his horn-tipped bow,
In coats of mail the Captains stiffly move,
While soldiers growl or mutter curses low.

Far off the desert stretches as a sea,
In frozen ridges like to driven clouds,
Alas, the multitudes of warriors brave
The pathless waste of cruel sand enshrouds!

But now our happy comrade homeward turns,
We'll drink his health to sound of viol and flute,
And see him safely on his journey start;
Another cup, and then the old salute!

Falls thick the snow around the fortress walls,
The red flag frozen stirs not in the air,
As forth we ride from out the Eastern gate,--
In jostling groups, or quietly pair by pair.

Nearing the Tien-shan[20] road we draw in rein,
To bid our comrade there a last farewell,
And watch him upward climb the mountain path
To peaks that touch the clouds where genii dwell.[21]

But soon the winding path conceals from view
The fading horsemen as they upward wend;
All we now see are footprints in the snow,
As 'ih-lu fuh-sing'[22] we towards them send.

[20] The Tien Mountains; in many books of geography erroneously described as Tien-Shan Mountains.

[21] According to Chinese mythology, the top of the Tien Mountains touch heaven and are the abode of the genii.

[22] May the Star of Happiness accompany you to the end of the journey.

_Beauty's Fatal Snare_[23]

BY LI HAN-LIN

T'ANG DYNASTY

The ravens roost upon the towers of Su,
While revels reign within the Court of Wu;
The rustic Si-Shi with her peerless face,
Her slender form, her witching smile and grace.

Inflamed by wine, she now begins to sing
The songs of Wu to please the fatuous king;
And in the dance of Tsu she subtly blends
All rhythmic movements to her sensuous ends.

Si-Shi o'er Wu her spell has surely cast,
The King of Yueeh has snared his foe at last;
With wine, and song, and dance, the hours fly by:
The water-clock[24] has dripped till almost dry.

Behind the hills appears the flush of dawn,
Beyond the river sinks the moon forlorn;
And now the sun climbs up the towers of Su;
What of the revellers in the Halls of Wu!

[23] The Prince of Yueeh wishing to ruin his rival, the Prince of Wu, presented to him a very beautiful girl, named Si-Shi, who had been taught all feminine accomplishments. Fu-Ch'a, the Prince of Wu, fell into the snare, and besotted by dissolute pleasures, became an easy victim to the Prince of Yueeh who annexed the State of Wu to his own dominions. After his defeat Fu-Ch'a committed suicide.

[24] Time was measured by the clepsydra, and the expression indicates that the night was far spent and dawn near.

_A Reverie in a Summer-house_

BY MENG HAO-RAN

T'ANG DYNASTY (A.D. 618-905)

The daylight fades behind the Western Mountains,
And in the east is seen the rising moon,
Which faintly mirrored in the garden fountains
Foretells that night and dreams are coming soon.

With window open--hair unloosed and flowing,[25]
I lie in restful ease upon my bed;
The evening breeze across the lilies blowing
With fragrant coolness falls upon my head.

And in the solemn stillness--all-prevailing,
The fall of dewdrops from the tall bamboos--
Which grow in graceful rows along the railing--
Sounds through the silence soft as dove's faint coos.

On such an eve as this I would be singing,
And playing plaintive tunes upon the lute,
And thus to mind old friends and pleasures bringing;
But none are here to join with harp and flute!

So in a pleasant stillness I lie dreaming
Of bygone days and trusty friends of old,
Among whom Sin-tze's[26] happy face is beaming;
I would my thoughts could now to him be told.

[25] In ancient times the hair was worn long and knotted on the top of the head.

[26] The name of a genial companion of earlier days.

_The Flower-Seller_[27]

BY TSING-NIEN

TSING DYNASTY

The sun is sinking in the sky,
It scarcely reaches a flagstaff high;
And now the pretty flower-girl dares
Come out to sell her fragile wares.
Her voice rings out a message sweet,
As on she trips with lightsome feet,
To buy her musk and jessamine,
Her violets and white eglantine.
And the fresh perfumes of her flowers,
After last night's refreshing showers,
Borne on the gentle breeze soon find
An entrance through my lattice blind.
The windows of the rich and great
Are opened wide, and heads, ornate
With glossy hair and jewels bright,
Are thrust forth in the evening light
Of the setting sun, whose shadow falls
On the straight lines of brick-built walls,
By which men marked the time of day[28]
Ere clocks and watches came their way.
And many flowers of beauteous hue,
Still sparkling with the morning dew,
Are bought by ladies rich and fair,
To deck their deep black lustrous hair.

[27] A modern poem composed by a successful student at a Government Examination.

[28] Formerly the time of day was roughly ascertained by such means.

_The Red-Flower Pear-Tree_

BY EO YANG SIU

SONG DYNASTY

Posted to a distant mountain region,
The old Lang-Kwan,[29] grown grey in honest work,
Oft wandered through the valleys rough and dreary
In search of treasures which might therein lurk.

One day, growing in a sheltered corner,
He found a red-flowered pear-tree in full bloom,
And before it stood transfixed with wonder,
As when a dazzling brightness shines through gloom.

Wondering how so fair a plant could flourish
Away from genial clime and native earth,
Circled by a thousand mist-clad mountains,
And far from fragrant trees of kindred birth.

High its beauty-laden branches rising
Above the gaudy brambles trailing there,
Standing lonely in its perfect grandeur,
With none, alas! to view the picture rare.

Save the vernal breeze which strips its blossoms
And blows them open, year by year, again;
Or the feathered tribes of mountain ranges
In search of shelter from the mist or rain.

Showing it has braved the storms for ages,
Its roots are curved and knotted with the fight;
Yet the Lang-Kwan is the first of mankind
To look with pleasure on so fair a sight.

Drinking in the wealth of dewy fragrance,
He walked around the tree for many hours,
But held by reverential love and wonder,
He durst not raise a hand to pluck the flowers.

To himself the old man murmured gently,
I wish I could remove the tree from here
To grace the garden of the King's demesne,
And find a royal consort for its peer.

Such a task, alas! would be much harder
Than the long and toilsome journey of Chang-K`an,[30]
When he brought the beautiful pomegranate
From Western regions to the Land of Han.

[29] A District Magistrate in ancient times.

[30] Chang-K`an, or Chang-K`ien, a Minister of the Emperor Wu of the Han Dynasty. In this poem it is said that he brought the pomegranate to China, but other writers say the grape-vine.

_A Song of Princess Tze-Yuh_[31]

BY HAN-CHONG

(ANCIENT)

As Southern birds avoid a Northern snare,
My kin avoid alliances with thine;
And though my love for thee would greatly dare,
I know our clans the marriage would decline.

I would have followed thee, but evil talk
Besmirched our names and sent us far apart;
But why the world its love of slander balk?
'Tis evil fate that has despoiled my heart!

I wept for thee and mourned for three long years,
As mourns the phoenix when her consort's dead;
And then death came and ended grief and tears;
For after thee no other could I wed.

And now you stand before my grave and grieve,
My wraith's permitted for a moment's space,
The confines of the Spirit land to leave
And visit earth to see thee face to face.

And, oh believe, though quick we part once more,
And in the body cannot meet and love,
Our souls are one till life and time are o'er,
And we united in the realms above.

[31] Tze-Yuh, daughter of Fu-Chai, Prince of the Wu State, and Han-Chong loved each other and wished to marry, but political feuds prevented their union. Thereupon Han-Chong travelled abroad, and Tze-Yuh, after three years of fruitless mourning, died of grief. When Han-Chong returned and visited Tze-Yuh's grave to mourn there, he had a vision of her beautiful face, which inspired him to compose this song.

_Distaste for Official Life_

BY TAO TSIEN

T'SIN DYNASTY

For thirty years I read, and mused, and wrote,
Or idly angled from my fishing-boat;
Or wandered through the woods, or climbed the hills,
Listening to songsters and to murmuring rills;

Or sauntering in my garden talked with flowers,
As friend with friend, for many happy hours;
Or working in my fields ablaze with golden grain,
And herbs and fruits which keep life clean and sane.

Far from the busy mart and huckstering crowd,
Striving for gold or place with brawlings loud,--
From youth to middle age I've passed my days
Midst flowers and fields hearing what Nature says.

And now, alas! I'm on this boat and bound
For far King-chow, with rank and office crowned;
To village home and friends I've bid farewell,
And of life's peace, I fear, I've tolled the knell.

From off the shore a pleasant breeze now blows,
And on and on the placid river flows;
While the pale shining of the Queen of Night
Floods the great universe with silvery light.

I cannot sleep, the future weights my mind,
The calls of office--cares of every kind
Oppress me with a sense of coming woes--
A forlorn hope against unnumbered foes!

I fain would tune my harp and ballads sing,
Some comfort to my sinking heart to bring;
But such poor solace even is denied--
My hands are nerveless and my tongue is tied.

How can I leave my former happy life
To mingle in ambition's worldly strife!
What care I for the spoils of rank and power,
The petty triumphs of the passing hour!

My office I'll resign and homeward turn
To till my farm beside the rippling burn,
Where I in happy freedom may once more
The Muses and the Book of Nature pore.

There in my rustic lodge in leisure time,
I'll cherish every thought and scene sublime,
And following still the teachers of my youth
A name I'll build upon eternal truth.

_The Fragrant Tree_

BY WEI YING-WUH

T'ANG DYNASTY

In a far-off fragrant garden
Grows a tree of beauty rare,
Whose reflection on the brooklet
Makes a vision fair.

But when now I see this vision,
Heart and mind are wrung with grief,
Mourning hours of blissful meeting--
Every hour too brief.

Rich as ever is the foliage,
Opal clouds the shimmering boughs,
And the dewy leaves still glisten
While the sun allows.

But, alas, Her presence lacking,
What are all such things to me!
She will never more be plucking
Blossoms from this tree.

Here beside the brook are traces
Of her light and gladsome feet;
But again we two shall never
In this garden meet.

_A Song of the Snow_

BY LUH FANG-WENG

Three days it snowed on Chang-an[32] plain,
With drifts the Pass[33] was stacked;
The iron cows[34] could not be moved,
The dew-pans[35] froze and cracked.

A traveller of handsome mien,
And clad in white foxskin,
With curled moustache and strong of limb,
Came to the Pao-chan[36] inn.

At night he supped and drank full well
Until he soundly slept;
But in the early dawn he woke
And on his strong horse leapt.

Then riding through the drifts of snow
He reached the South Range bare,
And hunted for a tiger fierce
Which long had 'scaped the snare.

And when the crafty beast was met,
An arrow from his bow
Transfixed its bounding body huge,
And reddened deep the snow.

With dying strength it beat the air,
And uttered piercing yells,
Which shook the hills and forest trees,
And echoed through the dells.

The carcase then he dragged back
Along a crowded course;
The bones a pillow frame supplied,
The skin adorned his horse.

But when confusion fills the land,
And peace is under ban,
Why don't such men of might come forth
To help the King of Han!

[32] Now Si-ngan, the provincial capital of Shen-si, but in the Han Dynasty the capital of China.

[33] A very important mountain pass near Si-ngan.

[34] Vessels used in the conservancy of the Yellow River.

[35] Pans to hold dew, which was collected to provide the Emperor Wu of the Han Dynasty with bathing-and drinking-water and thus promote longevity.

[36] 'The Precious Hairpin,' merely the sign of the inn.

_The Old Temple among the Mountains_

BY CHANG WEN-CHANG

T'ANG DYNASTY (618-905 B.C.)

The temple courts with grasses rank abound,
And birds throng in the forest trees around;
But pilgrims few, though tablets still remain,
Come to the shrine while revolutions reign.

The mice climb through the curtains--full of holes,
And thick dust overspreads the broidered stoles;
The temple pool in gloomy blackness lies
To which the sleeping dragon[37] sometimes hies.

[37] The meaning of this expression is not clear; it has a political signification.

_A Soldier's Farewell to his Wife_

BY SU-WU[38]

HAN DYNASTY, OR EARLIER

My dear wife, you and I have been as one,
No doubt has marred the faith, which love has won,
Our chief desire throughout the married state
Has been of love and joy to give and take.

But now, alas! the joy of Spring departs,
And sorrow's shafts must enter both our hearts;
I cannot sleep; I must arise and see
The time; ah me, how quick the hours do flee!

Awake, my dearest, for the stars have set,
The grief of parting must be bravely met;
And yet the dreary marches weight my mind,--
As through defiles and desert plains they wind.

And then, at last, the awful battle-field,
Where I must fight and naught to foemen yield;
But, oh! the bitter, paralysing pain--
To think that we may never meet again!

I must let fall the long restrained tears
As, clasping hands, you calm my anxious fears;
If not, my heart will break with sighs repressed
To hear your love so tenderly confessed.

But courage, we will think of Young Love's day,
And all the pleasures which therein did stay;
And this shall cheer me on the toilsome road,
And help you here to bear your weary load.

Then with what joy we shall renew our life,
When I return safe from the dreadful strife;
But if, alas! the Fates should death decree,
My spirit shall for ever live with thee.

[38] Chinese commentators regard this poem as Su's farewell to his own wife, written when he was sent on an expedition to the land of the Hsiung-nu, where he was captured and kept in captivity for many years.

_The Wanderer's Return_

BY TU FU

T'ANG DYNASTY

The setting sun beneath the red-lined clouds,
Which mass around the foot-hills in the west,
Still floods the valley with a rose-hued light,
And lures the chirping birds to seek their rest.

The wayworn traveller pauses near the gate,
From which he sallied forth so long ago;
Unconscious then of what Fate held in store--
The years of separation, loss, and woe.

The neighbours press around the garden fence,
And gaze with mouth agape, or quietly sigh;
While wife and children awestruck, rigid stand,
And then tears flow and to his arms they fly.

'For years on revolution's waves I've tossed,
While wife and bairns mourned me in hopeless plight;
And now to-night, as in a dream, I sit
With all my loved ones 'neath the lamp's bright light.'

_The Pleasures of a Simple Life with Nature_

BY LI-SHANG-YIN

T'ANG DYNASTY

On these pleasant hills residing,
Far from worldly din and strife,
Leisurely with nature living,
Here I pass a happy life.

Gently wave the bamboo copses,
Fanned by evening breezes light;
While the flowers and moon-beams mingle
In the ghostly hours of night.

Through ravines the waters gurgle,
Stemmed by scattered rock and stone;
Round the bends the footpath wanders--
By the mosses overgrown.

Here with friends and habits simple,
And a cup of generous wine,
Fingering lute and old songs singing--
For no other heaven I pine.

_Listening to the Playing on a Lute in a Boat_

BY SU-SHIH

In my boat I sat alone,
And the hours were fast in flight,
When the sound of music broke
The stillness of the night.

Sighing winds through fir-trees swept,
Falling cascades murmured low,
As the master touched his lute--
So lovingly and slow.

Clutching fast my lapelled coat,
Rapture swayed me without bounds,
As with every nerve intent,
I listened to the sounds.

Yet again I longed to hear
Ancient chimes on jadestone bell,
Drawn forth by the Master's hand
From lute he loved so well.

Since the days of Chen and Wei,[39]
When confusion filled the land,
Music rare of ancient style
Has found but scant demand.

Times and instruments alike,
For a thousand years and more,
Silent and forgotten lay,
And few the loss deplore!

One alone--the priceless lute--
Change and storm and wreck survives,
Watching nations rise and wane,
As god of mortal lives.

Music old is now decried,
Light songs and ditties sought,
Strains insipid, jerky turns,
Light and crispy wrought.

Instruments of wood remain,
Void of human feelings sweet,
Which the soul of ancient song
Never more may greet.

Peaceful is the river now,
Moon-beams play upon the scene,
From the ceaseless din of life
Night provides a pleasant screen.

In the silence of this hour,
Will you, Master, yet once more,
Wen-wang's[40] melodies revive,
As in the days of yore?

[39] The Wei and Ch'en Dynasties.

[40] Duke Chang, the virtual founder of the Chow Dynasty; Wen Wang being his posthumous title. His son, Prince Wu, was the first ruler of the Chow Dynasty.

_Reflections on the Past_[41]

THIS IS ONLY ONE SECTION OF A LONG POEM BY TAO TSIEN.

The sun went down and cloudless came the night,
A gentle zephyr breathed through moonlit skies;
And bevies of fair women thronged the Court,
The beauty of the starlight in their eyes.

With wine and singing swiftly flew the hours
Until the herald of the dawn appeared;
But when the music and the rapture ceased,
Deep sighs were heard and weird forebodings feared.

Such beauty even in the Halls of T'sin
As on this fateful night was seldom seen,--
A lustrous moon in fleecy clouds it shines!
A splendid flower amidst the foliage green!

How fair the groups of revellers--fair the scene!
But pleasures such as these must pass away!
How keen the raptures of those fleeting hours!
What of the burdens of the coming day?

[41] This poem probably refers to the revelries of the Court at the end of the T'sin Dynasty 300-200 B.C., before it was overthrown by the founder of the Han Dynasty.

_A Lowly Flower_

BY BAY SIE T'IAO

T'ANG DYNASTY

A flowering grass I rise
From the side of a far-spread lake,
Whose waters lave and fertilize,
And all my thirsty tissues slake.

The dews of Spring with gentle power
Evolve my glossy emerald leaves;
The colours of my fragrant flower
The rime of early Autumn weaves.

And yet in trembling fear I grow,
Lest root and stem should be uptorn
By sudden storm or rushing flow,
And leave me helpless and forlorn.

So here contented will I lie,
Although a plant of humble birth;
Nor try to soar to realms on high
Above the confines of the earth.

For never yet has living soul
By strength or wisdom changed his fate;
All things are under heaven's control,
Who allocates to each his state.

_On returning to a Country Life_

BY TAO TSIEN

My youth was spent amidst the simple charms
Of country scenes--secure from worldly din,
And then, alas! I fell into the net
Of public life, and struggled long therein.

The captive bird laments its forest home;
The fish in tanks think of the sea's broad strands;
And I oft longed, amidst official cares,
To till a settler's plot in sunny lands.

And now I have my plot of fifteen 'mow',[42]
With house thereon of rustic build and thatch;
The elm and willow cast a grateful shade,
While plum-and peach-trees fill the entrance patch.

Away from busy towns and dusty marts,
The dog barks in the silent country lane;
While chickens cluck among the mulberry-trees,
And life is healthy and the mind is sane.

Here in my house--with room for friend or two,
On my own farm--won from the barren plain,
Escaped from cares of office and routine,
I live a free and natural life again.

[42] A Chinese acre, a measure of land equal to about one-fifth of an English acre.

_The Brevity of Life_

POET UNKNOWN: HAN DYNASTY, OR EARLIER

Our years on earth are brief,
But few a hundred win;
A thousand years of grief
Are packed therein.

The day quick takes its flight,
The dark is sad and long;
Then let us cheer the night
With feast and song.

The niggard thinks it wise
To save and live by rule;
But sages may arise
To call him fool!

_Conscripts leaving for the Frontier_[43]

BY TU-FU

T'ANG DYNASTY

Chariots rumbling; horses neighing;
Soldiers shouting martial cries;
Drums are sounding; trumpets braying;
Seas of glittering spears arise.

On each warrior's back are hanging
Deadly arrows, mighty bows;
Pipes are blowing, gongs are clanging,
On they march in serried rows.

Age-bowed parents, sons and daughters
Crowd beside in motley bands;
Here one stumbles, there one falters
Through the clouds of blinding sands.

Wives and mothers sometimes clinging
To their loved ones in the ranks,
Or in grief their bodies flinging
On the dusty crowded flanks.

Mothers', wives', and children's weeping
Rises sad above the din,--
Through the clouds to Heaven creeping--
Justice begging for their kin.

'To what region are they going?'
Asks a stranger passing by;
'To the Yellow River, flowing
Through the desert bare and dry!

'Forced conscription daily snapping
Ties which bind us to our clan;
Forced conscription slowly sapping
All the manhood of the Han.'

And the old man went on speaking
To the stranger from afar:
''Tis the Emperor, glory seeking,
Drives them 'neath his baleful star.

'Guarding river; guarding passes
On the frontier, wild and drear;
Fighting foes in savage masses--
Scant of mercy, void of fear.

'Proclamations, without pity,
Rain upon us day by day,
Till from village, town, and city
All our men are called away.

'Called away to swell the flowing
Of the streams of human blood,
Where the bitter north wind blowing
Petrifies the ghastly flood.

'Guarding passes through the mountains,
Guarding rivers in the plain;
While in sleep, in youth's clear fountain,
Scenes of home come back again.

'But, alas! the dream is leaded
With the morn's recurring grief,
Only few return--grey-headed--
To their homes, for days too brief.

'For the Emperor, still unheeding
Starving homes and lands untilled,
On his fatuous course proceeding,
Swears his camps shall be refilled.

'Hence new levies are demanded,
And the war goes on apace,
Emperor and foemen banded
In the slaughter of the race.

'All the region is denuded
Of its men and hardy boys,
Only women left, deluded
Of life's promise and its joys.

'Yet the prefects clamour loudly
That the taxes must be paid,--
Ride about and hector proudly!
How can gold from stones be made?

'Levy after levy driven,
Treated more like dogs than men,
Over mountains, tempest riven,
Through the salty desert fen.

'There by Hun and Tartar harried--
Ever fighting, night or day;
Wounded, left to die, or carried
Far from kith and kin away.

'Better bring forth daughters only
Than male children doomed to death,
Slaughtered in the desert lonely,
Frozen by the north wind's breath.

'Where their bodies, left unburied,
Strew the plain from west to east,
While above in legions serried
Vultures hasten to the feast.

'Brave men's bones on desert bleaching,
Far away from home and love,
Spirits of the dead beseeching
Justice from the heaven above.'

[43] This poem is an attempt to describe the miseries of the people under compulsory military service during the long wars carried on by the Emperor Hsueen-Tsung of the Han Dynasty.

_Estimating the Value of a Wife_

UNKNOWN: ANCIENT

Once upon a time a husband, weary
Of the selfsame face before him day by day,
Determined to dismiss his goodwife promptly,
And take a new one--to her great dismay!

Without delay the little deal was settled,--
The husband on his purpose being bent,--
The new wife through the front door entered grandly,
The old one from a side-door sadly went.

One day the old wife to her home returning
From gathering wild flowers on the mountain side,
Met with her quondam master in the valley,
And, kneeling, asked him how the new one vied.

'The new wife', said the husband very slowly,
'Has beauty that is equal to your own,
But still her hands are not so deft and useful,
Nor can she compass so much work alone.

'The new wife's hands are very skilled in weaving
Embroidered satins with her dainty touch;
The old wife's fingers, faster and unwearied,
Of useful fabrics weave five times as much.

'So when I reckon up the charms and uses
Of goodwives, number One and number Two,
There's little room within my mind for doubting,
I had the better bargain when I'd you.'

_The Lady Lo-Fu_

HAN DYNASTY, OR EARLIER

On a bright and sunny morning,
From her mother's house there came,
One who needed no adorning,--
Lo-Fu was the lady's name.

On her arm a basket swinging,
Made of silk her own hand weaves,
Forth she wanders blithely singing,
Bent on gathering mulberry leaves.

From her head in graceful tresses
Falls the fine and lustrous hair,
While each shapely ear caresses
Just one pearl of beauty rare.

Purple bodice, broidered quaintly,
Silken skirt with amber lace,
Gave the touch demure and saintly
To her sweetly winsome face.

Travellers dropped the loads they carried,
And in wonder stroked their chin;
Young men, whether free or married,
Doffed their hats a glance to win.

Farmers stay their hand in ploughing,
Peasants stand as in a dream,
Now and then the trees allowing
Of the girl a passing gleam.

On this morn an Envoy passing,
From a mission to the sea,
Where much wealth he'd been amassing,
Saw Lo-Fu beneath a tree.

For her silkworms food providing,
Work she did with greatest zest;
All her friends around residing
Owned her silk was of the best.

Near the tree the Envoy stopping
With his escort in array,
Soldiers boughs of mulberries lopping
Helped to make a fine display.

From his retinue emerging
Came the Envoy's trusty man,
Who his master's message urging,
Gently asked her name and clan.

'Lo-Fu,' came the answer proudly,
'Of the ancient house of T'sin!'
Adding, too, a little loudly,
'And my age is seventeen.'

'Will you join me?' asked the Envoy,
'Sharing all my wealth and power,
All the treasures of this convoy
Would not far exceed your dower!'

'You have a wife,' she answered coldly,
'And most foolish are, I fear;
I,' she added firm and boldly,
'Also have a husband dear.

'And my husband is the leader
Of a thousand horsemen brave,
Midst whom not one base seceder
Would another captain crave!

'On his charger, white and fiery,
'Mongst the troop he's first espied,
Soldier-like, erect and wiry,
With his keen sword by his side.

'When but fifteen he enlisted
Without patronage or fame,
And at twenty, unassisted,
Officer at Court became.

'Then at thirty, unexpected,
Captain in the Royal Clan;
Now at forty he's selected
Chief commandant of Ch'ang-an.

'Gallant, but of gentle bearing,
When the battle's fought and won,
For the praise of men less caring
Than the meed for duty done.

'Yes, a clear-eyed, clean-souled hero
Is the man I'm praising now,
And your value sinks to zero
When compared with his, I vow.

'True, a lowly work I'm doing,
And the silk we use I spin,
But remember you are wooing
Lo-Fu of the House of T'sin.'[44]

[44] The ancient State of T'sin, which finally embraced the whole of Shen-si and Kansuh. In 221 B.C. this State under Shi Hwang Ti subdued all China, and thereafter the ruling sovereigns are known as the T'sin Dynasty.

_An Autumn Evening in the Garden_

BY LI YI

The Summer's gone, but summer heat remains,
And sleepless nights still leave us all repining;
So to the garden I have moved my couch,
And on it I am peacefully reclining.

The white clouds spread themselves across the sky,
And through the rifts the moon's soft light is falling
On dewy grass and flowers and trees around,
While from the towers night birds are faintly calling.

The gentle rustling of the tall bamboos
In subtle symphony of tone is blending
With the waters of the fountain and the brook,
Which flow and murmur on their ways unending.

While through the gauzy garments which I wear
The cooling evening breeze is gently blowing,
My feeling of contentment is more deep
Than when I'm where the ruby wine is flowing.

_Muh-Lan_[45]