THE PLAINT OF KING YEW'S FORSAKEN WIFE

The fibres of the white-flowered rush Are with the white gra.s.s 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 gra.s.s 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 gra.s.s; All the days in marching pa.s.s.

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 gra.s.s, 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; G.o.d kinged them when the season came.

King Wan ruled well when earth he trod; Now moves his spirit near to G.o.d.

A strong-willed, earnest king was Wan, And still his fame rolls widening on.

The gifts that G.o.d 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 l.u.s.trous grow.

More l.u.s.trous 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 G.o.d 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.