_The Decade of Pih H'wa_

AN ODE APPROPRIATE TO A FESTIVITY

The dew lies heavy all around, Nor, till the sun shines, leaves the ground.

Far into night we feasting sit; We drink, and none his place may quit.

The dew lies heavy, and its gems Stud the luxuriant, gra.s.sy stems.

The happy night with wa.s.sail rings; So feasted here the former kings.

The jujube and the willow-tree All fretted with the dew we see.

Each guest's a prince of n.o.ble line, In whom the virtues all combine.

The _t'ung_ and _e_ their fruits display, Pendant from every graceful spray.

My guests are joyous and serene, No haggard eye, no ruffled mien.

BOOK III

_The Decade of T'ung Kung_

CELEBRATING A HUNTING EXPEDITION

Our chariots were well-built and firm, Well-matched our steeds, and fleet and strong.

Four, sleek and large, each chariot drew, And eastward thus we drove along.

Our hunting cars were light and good, Each with its team of n.o.ble steeds.

Still further east we took the way To Foo-mere's gra.s.sy plains that leads.

Loud-voiced, the masters of the chase Arranged the huntsmen, high and low.

While banners streamed, and ox-tails flew, We sought the prey on distant Gaou.

Each with full team, the princes came, A lengthened train in bright array.

In gold-wrought slippers, knee-caps red, They looked as on an audience day.

Each right thumb wore the metal guard; On the left arm its shield was bound.

In unison the arrows flew; The game lay piled upon the ground.

The leaders of the tawny teams Sped on their course, direct and true.

The drivers perfect skill displayed; Like blow well aimed each arrow flew.

Neighing and pleased, the steeds returned; The bannered lines back slowly came.

No jostling rude disgraced the crowd; The king declined large share of game.

So did this famous hunt proceed!

So free it was from clamorous sound!

Well does our King become his place, And high the deeds his reign have crowned!

THE KING'S ANXIETY FOR HIS MORNING LEVeE

How goes the night? For heavy morning sleep Ill suits the king who men would loyal keep.

The courtyard, ruddy with the torch's light, Proclaims unspent the deepest hour of night.

Already near the gate my lords appear; Their tinkling bells salute my wakeful ear.

How goes the night? I may not slumber on.

Although not yet the night is wholly gone, The paling torch-light in the court below Gives token that the hours swift-footed go.

Already at the gate my lords appear; Their tinkling bells with measured sound draw near.

How goes the night? I may not slumber now.

The darkness smiles with morning on its brow.

The courtyard torch no more gives forth its ray, But heralds with its smoke the coming day.

My princes pa.s.s the gate, and gather there; I see their banners floating in the air.

MORAL LESSONS FROM NATURAL FACTS

All true words fly, as from yon reedy marsh The crane rings o'er the wild its screaming harsh.

Vainly you try reason in chains to keep;-- Freely it moves as fish sweeps through the deep.

Hate follows love, as 'neath those sandal-trees The withered leaves the eager searcher sees.

The hurtful ne'er without some good was born;-- The stones that mar the hill will grind the corn.

All true words spread, as from the marsh's eye The crane's sonorous note ascends the sky.

Goodness throughout the widest sphere abides, As fish round isle and through the ocean glides.

And lesser good near greater you shall see, As grows the paper shrub 'neath sandal-tree.

And good emerges from what man condemns;-- Those stones that mar the hill will polish gems.

BOOK IV

_The Decade of K'e-foo_

ON THE COMPLETION OF A ROYAL PALACE

On yonder banks a palace, lo! upshoots, The tender blue of southern hill behind; Firm-founded, like the bamboo's clamping roots; Its roof made pine-like, to a point defined.

Fraternal love here bears its precious fruits, And unfraternal schemes be ne'er designed!

Ancestral sway is his. The walls they rear, Five thousand cubits long; and south and west The doors are placed. Here will the king appear, Here laugh, here talk, here sit him down and rest.

To mould the walls, the frames they firmly tie; The toiling builders beat the earth and lime.

The walls shall vermin, storm, and bird defy;-- Fit dwelling is it for his lordly prime.

Grand is the hall the n.o.ble lord ascends;-- In height, like human form most reverent, grand; And straight, as flies the shaft when bow unbends; Its tints, like hues when pheasant's wings expand.