Chapter LI: LING (First Century B.C.) (2)

Muh-Lan's swift fingers flying to and fro
Crossed warp with woof in deft and even row,
As by the side of spinning-wheel and loom
She sat at work without the women's room.[46]
But tho' her hand the shuttle swiftly plies
The whir cannot be heard for Muh-Lan's sighs;
When neighbours asked what ills such mood had wrought,
And why she worked in all-absorbing thought;
She answered not, for in her ears did ring
The summons of last evening from the King,
Calling to arms more warriors for the west,
The name of Muh-Lan's father heading all the rest.
But he was ill--no son to take his place,
Excuses meant suspicion and disgrace;
Her father's honour must not be in doubt;
Nor friend, nor foe, his stainless name shall flout;
She would herself his duty undertake
And fight the Northern foe for honour's sake.
Her purpose fixed, the plan was soon evolved,
But none should know it, this she was resolved;
Alone, unknown, she would the danger face,
Relying on the prowess of her race.
A charger here, a saddle there, she bought,
And next a bridle and a whip she sought;
With these equipped she donned the soldier's gear,
Arming herself with bow and glittering spear.
And then before the sun began his journey steep
She kissed her parents in their troubled sleep,
Caressing them with fingers soft and light,
She quietly passed from their unconscious sight;
And mounting horse she with her comrades rode
Into the night to meet what fate forbode;
And as her secret not a comrade knew,
Her fears soon vanished as the morning dew.
That day they galloped westward fast and far,
Nor paused until they saw the evening star;
Then by the Yellow River's rushing flood
They stopped to rest and cool their fevered blood.
The turbid stream swept on with swirl and foam
Dispelling Muh-Lan's dreams of friends and home;
Muh-Lan! Muh-Lan! she heard her mother cry--
The waters roared and thundered in reply!
Muh-Lan! Muh-Lan! she heard her father sigh--
The river surged in angry billows by!
The second night they reach the River Black,
And on the range which feeds it, bivouac;
Muh-Lan! Muh-Lan! she hears her father pray--
While on the ridge the Tartars' horses neigh;
Muh-Lan! Muh-Lan! her mother's lips let fall!
The Tartars' camp sends forth a bugle call!
The morning dawns on men in armed array
Aware that death may meet them on that day;
The Winter sun sends forth a pallid light
Through frosty air on knights in armour bright;
While bows strung tight, and spears in glittering rows,
Forebode the struggle of contending foes.
And soon the trumpets blare--the fight's begun;
A deadly _melee_--and the Pass is won!
The war went on, and many a battle-field
Revealed Muh-Lan both bow and spear could wield;
Her skill and courage won her widespread fame,
And comrades praised, and leaders of great name.
Then after several years of march and strife,
Muh-Lan and others, who had 'scaped with life
From fields of victory drenched with patriots' blood,
Returned again to see the land they loved.
And when at last the Capital[47] was reached,
The warriors, who so many forts had breached,
Were summoned to the presence of the King,
And courtiers many did their praises sing;
Money and presents on them, too, were showered,
And some with rank and office were empowered;
While Muh-Lan, singled out from all the rest,
Was offered fief and guerdon of the best.
But gifts and honours she would gladly lose
If she might only be allowed to choose
Some courier camels, strong and fleet of pace,
To bear her swiftly to her native place.

* * * * *

And now, at last, the journey nears the end,
And father's, mother's voices quickly blend
In--'Muh-Lan, Muh-Lan! welcome, welcome, dear!'
And this time there was naught but joy to fear.
Her younger sisters decked the house with flowers,
And loving words fell sweet as summer showers;
Her little brother shouted Muh-Lan's praise,
For many proud and happy boastful days!
The greetings o'er, she slipped into her room--
Radiant with country flowers in fragrant bloom--
And changed her soldier's garb for woman's dress:
Her head adorned with simple maiden's tress--
A single flower enriched her lustrous hair--
And forth she came, fresh, maidenly, and fair!
Some comrades in the war had now come in,
Who durst not mingle in the happy din;
But there in awe and admiration stood,
As brave men do before true womanhood;
For not the boldest there had ever dreamed,
On toilsome march, or when swords flashed and gleamed
In marshalled battle, or on sudden raid,
That their brave comrade was a beauteous maid.

[45] Muh-Lan was a famous heroine of the Liang Dynasty (A.D. 502-556) who, when her father was summoned to serve as a soldier in the wars on the north-western frontier, and was unable to obey the order on account of sickness, put on a soldier's dress and took his place in the army for several years. She fought in many battles, winning great praise for her bravery, and ever since she has been regarded as the ideal of daughterly devotion and feminine courage.

[46] In the porch of the women's apartment.

[47] The capital of China at that time was Chang-an, now Si-an-Fu the provincial capital of Shen-si.

_The Old Fisherman_

BY LUH FANG-WEN

T'ANG DYNASTY

While wandering up the river-side alone
To view the landscape of my new-found home,
Away from cities and the haunts of men
Where I midst nature's scenes can quietly roam,

I came upon a fisher's lonely hut
Ensconced within a winding of the stream,
And in a boat the fisherman himself;
While on his sail the sunlight sent a gleam.

Across the river stands a stately mountain
Which wandering artists oft have tried to paint,
But none could seize the subtle blend of colours--
Of purple blues and rose-dawn flushes faint.

Alas! the fisherman through summers many,
Has gazed upon the glory of this scene,
And yet his mind's unwakened to its beauty,
His hand unskilled to limn its tints and sheen.

And my hand, too, alas! has lost its cunning
And cannot serve my brain as in my youth,
So men will lose another glorious picture
Of Nature with her beauty and her truth.

_Midnight in the Garden_

BY LIU TSONG-YUEN

T'ANG DYNASTY (ANCIENT STYLE)

The midnight hours were passing
And sleep still past me flew;
My mind--so keenly working--
Could hear the dropping dew.

So from my bed arising
I open wide the door--
The western park revealing,
And hills that heavenward soar.

Across the Eastern ranges
The clear moon coldly shines
On bamboos, loosely scattered,
And trailing mountain vines.

And so intense the stillness,
That from the distant hills
I hear the pigeons cooing,
And murmuring streams and rills.

For hours I have been thinking,
As in a silent dream,
And now beyond the mountains
I see the dawn's first gleam.

_Reflections on the Brevity of Life_

POET'S NAME UNKNOWN: HAN DYNASTY OR EARLIER (206 B.C.-220 A.D.)

We sought the city by the Eastern gate,
Our chariot moving at a leisured rate,
Along the road on which the sunlight weaves
The trembling of the willow's rustling leaves.

And far away are pine-trees towering high,
Beneath whose shade the graves of heroes lie;
In Hades now their last long sleep they take,
From which a mortal never more shall wake.

How vast the gulf between the quick and dead!
Yet as the morning dew our life is sped;
The rocks and hills enduring strength retain,
But mortals pass in fast and endless train.

Alas! the sages are inert to trace
Beyond the grave the future of our race;
Alchemic nostrums, too, are used in vain,
They cannot turn life's ills to endless gain.

Then let us drain the goblet while we live,
And take the best the fleeting hour can give.
In life a little pleasure may be won,
To-morrow we must die and there'll be none.

_So-fei gathering Flowers_

BY WANG CHANG-LING

In a dress of gauzy fabric
Of the 'Lien' leaf's emerald hue
So-fei glides amongst the lilies
Sprinkled with the morning dew.

Rose-hued are the lotus-blossoms,
Rose-hued, too, the maiden's cheeks;
Is it So-fei's form I follow,
Or the flowers she seeks?

Now I hear a song arising
From the lotus bowers,
Which distinguishes the maiden
From her sister flowers.

_A Farewell_[48]

BY LI TAI-PEH

Far up the Song-Yang's sacred mountain,
Unrestrained by lock or bridge,
Plows a pure and peaceful streamlet
'Neath the 'Gem-Maid's' grassy ridge.

There at eve midst pine-trees sombre
Looms the large and lustrous moon;
And within my ancient dwelling
You I hope to welcome soon.

Yes, my friend, I'll come to see you
At the closing of the year,
In your home among the mountains,
Where you live without a fear.

Deep in searching for the Chang-pu,
With its bloom-flushed purple flower,
Which endows the happy finder
With immortal life and power.

Ere I come you may have found it,
And to realms where genii dwell
Winged your flight upon the dragon,
Bidding to our earth farewell.

[48] Poems similar to this one are frequently written by literary men in China when bidding farewell to a friend.

_The Khwun-ming Lake_

BY TU FU

In ancient times the flags of Wu[49]
Made gay the Khwun-ming Lake,[50]
On which his ships in mimic strife
The decks of foemen rake.

But now deserted is the scene,
And in the moon's pale light,
The Spinning-Maid[51] upon the shore
Sits silent in the night.

The Autumn breezes seem to move
The mammoth stony whales,[52]
And send a tremor through their frames
Vibrating all their scales.

The Ku-mi[53] seeds float on the waste,
As clouds of sombre hue;
The lotus-flowers are crushed beneath
The weight of frozen dew.

While from the cloud-capped Pass[54] above,
The eagle's eye aglow,
Sees but an aged fisherman
Midst lakes and streams below.

[49] The Emperor Wu of the Han Dynasty ascended the throne 140 B.C.

[50] A lake probably situated to the south-west of Chang-an, the capital of China in the Han Dynasty. This city is now the provincial capital of Shen-si and better known as Si-an.

[51] A stone image of the Spinning-Maid stood on one shore of the lake, and another of the Cowherd on the opposite shore.

[52] A stone image of an immense fish covered with finely carved scales was also placed by the side of the lake.

[53] A kind of rice.

[54] Probably the celebrated 'Tung' Pass near Chang-an.

The whole poem has a political signification implying that
revolution had turned the country into a wilderness, and
desolation taken the place of former prosperity and greatness.

_Reflections_

BY CHANG KIU-LING

The foliage of the lilies in the Spring
In glowing freshness shows its vernal birth;
While in the Autumn cassia-blossoms bright
Renew the beauty of the fading earth.

In seasons such as these our hearts rejoice,
And deeper thoughts arise within the mind,
As Nature woos us in a tender mood,
And teaches lessons that are true and kind.

Who would not be as grass and flowers and trees,
That denizen the forest and the hill,
And listening to the music of the winds,
With sympathy and mutual gladness thrill!

For flowers have natures teaching them to live
In sweet content in glen, or glade, or field;
By plucking them fair women cannot add
Aught to the happiness their own lives yield.

These four stanzas are but a section of a long poem. In this
allegory the poet reveals his own distaste for official life
and his love of Nature. Beautiful women cannot add to the
happiness of the flowers by plucking them, &c., implies that
the Emperor cannot increase the happiness of the poet by
appointing him to high official posts, and inviting him to the
Court.

_Pride and Humility_[55]

BY CHANG-KIU-LING

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

I'm but a sea-bird, wandering here alone,
And dare not call the ponds and lakes my own;
But what are those two lovely birds on high,
Shining resplendent 'gainst the morning sky?

Upon the top bough of the San-Chu[56] tree,
Presumptuously they build that all may see;
Their feathers than the iris lovelier far,
What if a missile should their beauty mar!

Such brilliant robes, which they with joy expose,
Might well excite the envy of their foes;
And even the gods may view with dire disdain
The high ambition of the proud and vain.

Now I in quiet obscurity can roam
Far from my nest, flecked by the ocean's foam;
Yet, in a world where greed is always rife,
No one would raise a hand to take my life.

[55] This translation is only a portion of a long poem.

[56] A mythical tree of the genii; but in the poem it may mean a very conspicuous tree.

_Dwellers in the Peach Stream Valley_[57]

BY CHANG-HSUeEN

T'SING DYNASTY

While the master was wrapped in slumber the fishing-boat slipped its
stake,
And drifted, and swirled, and drifted far over the broadening lake,
Till islets, and mainland, and forests came into view once more,
While the fisherman gazed and pondered the lay of the new-found
shore.
But erelong he espied an opening, shown by the broken wave,
And in venturous mood he steered his boat into a narrow cave,
Where an azure mist obscured the scenes through channels long and
low,
As the current bore him gently into a world of long ago.
In this old, flower-bestrewed land, at first no path the eye could
tell,
For on the streams and on the banks the red rain of peach flowers
fell;
Yet from the purple-shadowed mountains which screened this favoured
land
Flowed forth the Peach-Fount river along its bed of silver sand;
But, winding with the stream, the thickset peach-tree groves with
red-veined flowers
Hid the cooling waters flowing in and out the shady bowers.
And here and there along the banks, set in nooks of calm repose,
Were cottage homes of rustic work from which the wreathed blue smoke
arose;
Showing that in this happy valley beyond the world's dull roar,
Life went on as sweet and simple as in the golden days of yore,
And the people of this valley in their ancient garments clad
Were courteous in their manners and rejoiced in all they had;
While the dogs and fowls beside them harmonized with all at hand,
And the mulberry-tree and flax-plant hid the former barren land.
When the dwellers in this favoured region saw the stranger guest,
They set before him food and wine and kindly bade him rest;
And when true courtesy allowed they asked of the things and men
In the world of sin and sorrow far beyond their quiet life's ken.
And when the time to leave them came, and the stranger could not
stay,
They led him through the cavern's channels and saw him sail away.
In after life the fisherman often tried again, but failed
To find the opening to the Valley through which he once had sailed;
But when the sand of life through the glass its course had nearly
run,
He thought he saw the way lay to it beyond the westering sun.

[57] There are many versions of this legend both in poetry and prose. The introductory and closing lines of the translation are partly based on other versions of the story than that in the poem translated.

This poem and 'The Fishermen's Song', and 'The Students' Ramble', are taken from 'A Selection of Poems' written by successful graduates at the Government Examinations during the present dynasty.

Many of these prize poems are cleverly and beautifully written, and they reveal considerable poetic talent, but not the power and genius found in the work of ancient Chinese poets.

_The Five Sons_

BY TAO TSIEN

T'SIN DYNASTY (A.D. 265-419)

I am wrinkled and gray,
And old before my day;
For on five sons I look,
And not one loves a book.

Ah-Shu is sixteen years,
The sight of work he fears;
He is the laziest lout
You'd find the world throughout.

Ah-sueen has tried in vain
A little wit to gain;
He shirks the student's stool,
At grammar he's a fool!

Yong-twan is thirteen now,
And yet I do avow
He can't discriminate
The figures six and eight![58]

Tong-tze is only nine,
But clearly does opine
That life, with all its cares,
Consists of nuts and pears.

Alas, that Fate so dour
On me her vials should pour!
What can I do but dine,
And drown my woes in wine!

[58] Implies that he is a thorough dunce.

_The Journey Back_

BY A POET OF THE HAN DYNASTY

NAME UNKNOWN[59] (206 B.C. TO A.D. 220)

The journey back has now begun,
The Chariot winds along the road--
The road which seems for aye to run
To me with my sad load!

How vast the wilderness around,
As o'er the endless track we pass;
The only moving thing and sound--
The east wind through the grass!

The things I see are not the old,
As mile on mile the way is won,
And quick as these things change are told
Our years--and age comes on.

By nature's law each cycle brings
A time to flourish and decay,
And, with her perishable things,
We, too, must pass away.

No power have we with time to brave,
As iron and stone, the grave's stern claim,
One treasure only can we save--
An everlasting fame.

[59] The poet's name is unknown, but he (or she?) lived during the Han Dynasty (206 B.C. to A.D. 220), or earlier.

_The Gallant Captain and the Innkeeper's Wife_

BY SIN YEN-NIEN

HAN DYNASTY (206 B.C. TO A.D. 220)

Among the near attendants of the famous General Ho,[60]
The Champion of the Emperor Wu and terror of his foe,
Was a gay and gilded youth of the name of Fung Tze-tu,
Who loved to slay the fair sex as the general did Hsiong-nu;
Presuming on his master's fame he bantered every girl,
And fancied he himself was great--he lived in such a whirl.
The landlord of the wine-shop was scarcely a man of means,
But had a young and pretty wife not yet out of her teens;
And with this charming lady Fung Tze-tu was wont to flirt;
But though so young and charming she was very much alert.
One day in Spring this hostess fair, in gracious serving mood,
Alone attended to the wants of guests for wine and food.
Attired in flowing skirt, and girdled loose with girlish wile,
Embroidered vest and wide-sleeved outer robe of ancient style;
Her slender head on either side with massive tresses graced,
And crowned with Lan-tien[61] jade, below with Ta-tsin[62] pearls
enlaced:
This young and dainty figure, said the gallants with a sigh,
Was a sight with which no other on this earth could ever vie;
And as they posed before her in their elegant attire,
She deftly filled their glasses, and allowed them to admire.
Just as this dainty hostess stood alone within the inn,
Preparing special vintages selected from the bin,
Up rode a gay young officer with canopy of rank,
Accompanied by attendants afoot on either flank;
His charger's handsome trappings richly bound at every joint,
And silver-mounted saddle burnished to the flashing point,--
Alighting from his horse there stood the son of the Kin-Wu,[63]
The very gallant officer, the dashing Fung Tze-tu.
He called for wine in tasselled jug, and carp on golden plate,
And thought such lavish bravery the lady would elate;
Besides such show he offered her a mirror burnished bright,
Together with a red silk skirt of gauzy texture light;
All these, he thought, must surely daze the eyes of woman vain,
Who does not give her smiles for love, but for the greatest gain:
Alas! within the lady's mind quite other thoughts found vent,
More poignant when she spied within the red silk skirt a rent.
The rent within the skirt, she mused, no pang in you has wrought,
Nor would the loss of my good name cause you a serious thought;
For men soon tire of wives and seek their joys in faces new,
But wives are true to their first spouse and gallants do eschew;
Among the lowly born, as in the camp or royal abode,
Are women who are true to death to honour's stainless code:
I thank you for the favours shown, brave son of the Kin-Wu,
But this time you have loved in vain, my gallant Fung Tze-tu!

[60] General Ho K'ue-ping, died 117 B.C., Commander of the Armies of Han Wu Ti in several victorious campaigns against the Hsiung-nu.

[61] Lan-tien, a district in Shen-si, famous for its jade.

[62] Ta-tsin, the Roman Empire.

[63] A military officer of the Han Dynasty, holding a rank similar to that of Captain-General.

_The Lady Chao-Chiuen_[64]

BY EO YANG SIU

SONG DYNASTY (A.D. 960-1278)

The Court of Han which shone with beauty rare
Of high-born women dowered with faces fair,
Had one within it, yet unknown to fame,
Of lowly fortune but of gentle name.

Now every flower had spared some hue or grace
To form Chao-Chiuen's divinely lovely face;
But courtier's greed had barred the Palace gate,
Which Chao-Chiuen's father would not try to sate.

Nor could the maid herself her beauty flaunt,
And hold her fair name light for gold or taunt;
Her Royal Master, therefore, did but jibe
At portraits of her, painted for a bribe.

And so this peerless girl was left alone,
Who might have shared Yueen's imperial throne.
But Yen-Show's greed at last itself betrayed,
And charges grave against him were arrayed;

Then traitor-like, as harried fox, or doe,
He fled the Court to help the Northern foe;
And with true portraits of the lovely maid,
He fired the Tartar Chief his plans to aid.

Abetted by this courtier, wise and arch,
The Tartar armies crossed the Emperor's march,
And devastated all the country near,
From which the people fled in piteous fear.

The Han King, conscious of his waning power,
Now sought for terms of peace in danger's hour;
And these were granted, if, with parlance brief
The Lady Wang would wed the Tartar chief.

But ere the peerless maiden left her home,
To brave the mountains and the desert roam,
The Emperor saw her, and his heart stood still,
Yet basely feared to thwart the Tartar's will.

The silence passed, he raved in passion's whirl,
And slew the painter who had limned the girl;
But useless were such puny acts, and cruel,
Which to a burning throne were added fuel.

For how could monarch, who perceived no more,
Of things which happened near his Palace door,
Expect to force the Hun to own his sway,
Encamped in strength a thousand miles away?

And so Chao-Chiuen, beneath her weary load,
With royal guards began the endless road,
Watering with tears each lowly wayside flower,
The sport, alas! of beauty's fateful power.

[64] Chao-Chiuen, or Wang Chao-Chiuen, was a very beautiful girl who was precluded from entering the presence of the Emperor Yuan (Han Yuan Ti) by an avaricious courtier, Mao Yen-sheo, who bribed the court painter to present ugly portraits of Chao-Chiuen to the Emperor, because her family would not pay the large sums of money he demanded. Afterwards Mao Yen-sheo's wiles became known to the Emperor, and he fled to the Khan of the Hsiung-nu to whom he showed a true portrait of Chao-Chiuen. Thereupon the Khan invaded China with a great army, and demanded the Lady Chao-Chiuen as the price of peace. Afraid to refuse, the Chinese Emperor surrendered Chao-Chiuen to the Tartar chief who then retired beyond the Wall. According to a popular but untrustworthy version of this story, Chao-Chiuen, when she reached the Heh-long Kiang (Amur River), jumped into the stream rather than cross the boundary which separated her from her native land.

_Night on the Lake_

BY SU TONG-PO

SONG DYNASTY (A.D. 960-1278)

The breeze is sighing through the water grass,
As up and down the narrow deck I pass;
And through the rarest mist of Autumn night
The rain-moon floods the lake with pallid light.

The boatmen and the water-fowl sleep sound,
And in their dreams see other worlds around;
The big fish startled sneak in haste away,
As flurried fox flees from the dawning day.

In depths of night it seems the human soul
Its sway o'er other things has lost control;
I and my shadow play upon the strand
That marks the boundary of the silent land.

We watch the secret tides in noiseless work,
Forming new isles where earthworms safely lurk;
And on the moon--a monstrous pearl--we gaze,
Looming through willow-trees in silver haze.

Amidst our life of changing grief and woe,
A glimpse of purer worlds will come and go,
As on this lake when nature's holy power
Speaks to us in the dark and silent hour.

But hark, the cock crows; rings the temple bell!
And birds awake in mountain, plain, and dell;
The guardship beats its drum, the boats unmoor,
While din and shouting on the hearer pour.

_The Fishermen's Song_

PRIZE POEM, BY CHENG-CHENG

T'SING DYNASTY

The sun is sinking in the west,
Bidding the fishermen think of rest.
'To-day,' they cry, 'no need to search,
The people rush to buy our perch;
Of shell-fish, too, we are bereft,
We've scarcely half a basket left!'
And at the piles of silver bright
They laugh, and shout, 'Good wine to-night!'
'We'll with the village wits combine
And drink our fill of "Luh-e"[65] wine;
Then if we feel inclined to roam,
The fisher-boys shall lead us home.'
So off they go to the evening meal,
And 'Luh-e' wine is drunk with zeal;
And after draining every glass,
They doff the fishers' coat of grass,
And with wild shouts a net they seize
And rush out in the evening breeze,
Intent on catching the mirrored moon,
Bright in the sea as the sun at noon.
Tricked by the moon to their hearts' content,
Shoreward they move on music bent;
The pipes of Pan, and flutes, come out,
Wine and music have a fine bout;
Voices and instruments combined
Soon leave no discord undefined!
After the shouting and the din
Even fishermen had to turn in;
So spreading their sails in a sandy cave,
And soothed by the sound of the lapping wave,
Tired and languorous the reveller yields
To sleep, and dreams of Elysian fields!

[65] 'Luh-e,' the name of a famous wine.

_The Students' Ramble_[66]

BY LU-TEH

T'SING DYNASTY

No longer could the blue-robed students cling
To essay, or angle, or such like thing;
The white-fleeced sky in depths of sapphire blue,
The mother-earth, in Spring's bewitching hue,
Enticed them forth to ponder fresher lore,
And gather strength from nature's boundless store,
So leaving college desk, and book, and file,
They tramp the green-robed country--mile on mile;
But resting oft within some shady nook,
By side of mountain rill or babbling brook.
The voice of streams, the sweet air after showers
On new-mown grass, and earth, and fragrant flowers;
The depths of space, the everlasting hills;
The unseen power that moves, and guides, and stills
All animated nature's varied life
And law reveals where all seemed useless strife--
Their sense enthralled, and coursing with their blood
Through every vein in strong impetuous flood--
Divine and human, on this radiant day,
Seemed nearer kin than even when we pray
In marble temples to the unknown God,
Or wayside fanes, by common people trod.
But homeward now reluctantly they turn,
Yet incense still to nature would they burn;
So as they wind through woods of pine-trees tall,
By willow-bordered streams where catkins fall,
Their pent-up feelings, buried deep and long,
Find voice in classic chants from ancient song.
As chorus sweet, and solo clear and rare,
Are wafted softly on the evening air,
The water-fowl on village ponds and streams
Are gently wakened from their summer dreams;
While mingled with the scholars' choral lay
The songs of peasants speed the closing day;
And bird, or insect,--each its anthem sings,
And little gift of praise to Heaven brings:
Then as the sun is sinking in the west,
And lighting up the regions of the blest,
From nature's altar falls the sacred fire,
And higher aims each student's heart inspire.

[66] This is a free translation, yet nearly every word is implied in the original. A crudely literal translation would not reveal the thoughts aroused in the mind of a Chinese reader of the poem.

_The Priest of T'ien Mountain_

BY LI TAI-PEH

T'ANG DYNASTY (A.D. 618-913)

I hear the distant baying of the hound
Amid the waters murmuring around;
I see the peach-flowers bearing crystal rain,
The sportive deer around the forest fane.

The waving tops of bamboo groves aspire
In fleeting change the summer clouds to tire,
While from the emerald peaks of many hills
The sparkling cascades fall in fairy rills.

Beneath the pines within this shady dell,
I list in vain to hear the noontide bell;[67]
The temple's empty, and the priest has gone,
And I am left to mourn my grief alone.

[67] The temple bell.

_Maidens By the River-side_

BY YUH YONG

THE NORTHERN WEI DYNASTY (A.D. 386-532)

Maidens robed in gauzy dresses,
Heads adorned with lustrous tresses,
Nestling pearls in soft caresses,
Trip along the river-side.

Where the violet sweet reposes,
And the wild flowers group in posies,
Fairer than the queenly roses,
Through the flowers they conquering glide.

Where the cooling water gushes,
Fitful shades of willow bushes
Flee and hide among the rushes,
Lest the maidens should deride.

Tripping sylph-like, as the Graces,
East wind blowing on their faces,
Which it holds in soft embraces,
And would ever there abide.

_The Poet-Beggar_

BY TAO TSIEN

T'SIN DYNASTY (A.D. 265-419)

Impelled by hunger, forth I strode,
But whither causing little care,
While feeling life's oppressive load--
Too great for me to bear.

At last your village here I reached,
By tramping many weary miles,
And knocking at an unknown door,
You welcomed me with smiles.

And when I roughly asked for food,
Gave meat and wine my need to sate,
And in a kind and friendly mood
You chatted while I ate.

Now having shared your generous cheer,
And drained the oft refilled glass,
Revived and glad, unthanked I fear
To let such goodness pass.

A linen-bleacher, poor and old,
Fed Han-Sin,[68] sprung of royal breed,
From out her hard-earned scanty store
In time of darkest need.

Your kindly help to me this hour
Is fraught with equal love and grace,
Would I had Han-Sin's royal power,
Thy bounty to replace.

Alas! the fullness of my heart
My tongue can only lamely tell,
So now in simple verse I write
Of kindness done so well.

And though at last the muffled drum
Will beat the end of earthly days,
Throughout the cycles yet to come
My verse shall speak your praise.

[68] Han-Sin was the grandson of a prince of Han, whose State was annexed by the founder of the T'sin Dynasty. In early life Han-Sin suffered great poverty, and for some time was befriended by a poor woman who bleached flax. Afterwards he became the commander of the armies of Liu-Pang, the founder of the Han Dynasty, and regained his ancestral domain; he then sought out his friend, the flax-bleacher, and gave her 1,000 pieces of gold.