Part I




PART I�LESSONS FROM THE STATES

BOOK I

THE ODES OF CHOW AND THE SOUTH

--Celebrating the Virtue of King Wan's Bride--

Hark! from the islet in the stream the voice
Of the fish-hawks that o'er their nests rejoice!
From them our thoughts to that young lady go,
Modest and virtuous, loth herself to show.
Where could be found to share our prince's state,
So fair, so virtuous, and so fit a mate?

See how the duckweed's stalks, or short or long,
Sway left and right, as moves the current strong!
So hard it was for him the maid to find!
By day, by night, our prince with constant mind
Sought for her long, but all his search was vain.
Awake, asleep, he ever felt the pain
Of longing thought, as when on restless bed,
Tossing about, one turns his fevered head.

Here long, there short, afloat the duckweed lies;
But caught at last, we seize the longed-for prize.
The maiden modest, virtuous, coy, is found;
Strike every lute, and joyous welcome sound.
Ours now, the duckweed from the stream we bear,
And cook to use with other viands rare.
He has the maiden, modest, virtuous, bright;
Let bells and drums proclaim our great delight

--Celebrating the Industry of King Wan's Queen--

Sweet was the scene. The spreading dolichos
Extended far, down to the valley's depths,
With leaves luxuriant. The orioles
Fluttered around, and on the bushy trees
In throngs collected�whence their pleasant notes
Resounded far in richest melody.

The spreading dolichos extended far,
Covering the valley's sides, down to its depths,
With leaves luxuriant and dense. I cut
It down, then boiled, and from the fibres spun
Of cloth, both fine and coarse, large store,
To wear, unwearied of such simple dress.

Now back to my old home, my parents dear
To see, I go. The matron I have told,
Who will announcement make. Meanwhile my clothes,
My private clothes I wash, and rinse my robes.
Which of them need be rinsed? and which need not?
My parents dear to visit, back I go.

--In Praise of a Bride--

Graceful and young the peach-tree stands;
How rich its flowers, all gleaming bright!
This bride to her new home repairs;
Chamber and house she'll order right.

Graceful and young the peach-tree stands;
Large crops of fruit it soon will show.
This bride to her new home repairs;
Chamber and house her sway shall know.

Graceful and young the peach-tree stands,
Its foliage clustering green and full.
This bride to her new home repairs;
Her household will attest her rule.

--Celebrating T'ae-Sze's Freedom from Jealousy--

In the South are the trees whose branches are bent,
And droop in such fashion that o'er their extent
All the dolichos' creepers fast cling.
See our princely lady, from whom we have got
Rejoicing that's endless! May her happy lot
And her honors repose ever bring!

In the South are the trees whose branches are bent,
And droop in such fashion that o'er their extent
All the dolichos' creepers are spread.
See our princely lady, from whom we have got
Rejoicing that's endless! Of her happy lot
And her honors the greatness ne'er fade!

In the South are the trees whose branches are bent,
And droop in such fashion that o'er their extent
All the dolichos' creepers entwine.
See our princely lady, from whom we have got
Rejoicing that's endless! May her happy lot
And her honors complete ever shine!

--The Fruitfulness of the Locust--

Ye locusts, wing�d tribes,
Gather in concord fine;
Well your descendants may
In numerous bright hosts shine!

Ye locusts, wing�d tribes,
Your wings in flight resound;
Well your descendants may
In endless lines be found!

Ye locusts, wing�d tribes,
Together cluster strong;
Well your descendants may
In swarms forever throng!

--Lamenting the Absence of a Cherished Friend--

Though small my basket, all my toil
Filled it with mouse-ears but in part.
I set it on the path, and sighed
For the dear master of my heart.

My steeds, o'er-tasked, their progress stayed,
When midway up that rocky height.
Give me a cup from that gilt vase�
When shall this longing end in sight?

To mount that lofty ridge I drove,
Until my steeds all changed their hue.
A cup from that rhinoceros's horn
May help my longing to subdue.

Striving to reach that flat-topped hill,
My steeds, worn out, relaxed their strain;
My driver also sank oppressed:�
I'll never see my lord again!

--Celebrating the Goodness of the Descendants of King Wan--

As the feet of the lin, which avoid each living thing,
So our prince's noble sons no harm to men will bring.
They are the lin!

As the front of the lin, never forward thrust in wrath,
So our prince's noble grandsons of love tread the path.
They are the lin!

As the horn of the lin, flesh-tipped, no wound to give,
So our prince's noble kindred kindly with all live.
They are the lin!

[NOTE.�The "lin" is the female of "K'e"�a fabulous animal�the symbol of all goodness and benevolence; having the body of a deer, the tail of an ox, the hoofs of a horse, one horn, the scales of a fish, etc. Its feet do not tread on any living thing�not even on live grass; it does not butt with its forehead; and the end of its horn is covered with flesh�to show that, while able for war, it wills to have peace. The "lin" was supposed to appear inaugurating a golden age, but the poet finds a better auspice of that in the character of Wan's family and kindred.]

--The Virtuous Manners of the Young Women--

High and compressed, the Southern trees
No shelter from the sun afford.
The girls free ramble by the Han,
But will not hear enticing word.
Like the broad Han are they,
Through which one cannot dive;
And like the Keang's long stream,
Wherewith no raft can strive.

Many the fagots bound and piled;
The thorns I'd hew still more to make.
As brides, those girls their new homes seek;
Their colts to feed I'd undertake.
Like the broad Han are they,
Through which one cannot dive;
And like the Keang's long stream,
Wherewith no raft can strive.

Many the fagots bound and piled;
The Southern-wood I'd cut for more.
As brides, those girls their new homes seek;
Food for their colts I'd bring large store.
Like the broad Han are they,
Through which one cannot dive;
And like the Keang's long stream,
Wherewith no raft can strive.

--Praise of a Rabbit-Catcher--

Careful he sets his rabbit-nets all round;
Chang-chang his blows upon the pegs resound.
Stalwart the man and bold! his bearing all
Shows he might be his prince's shield and wall.

Careful he is his rabbit-nets to place
Where many paths of rabbits' feet bear trace.
Stalwart the man and bold! 'tis plain to see
He to his prince companion good would be.

Careful he is his rabbit-nets to spread,
Where in the forest's depth the trees give shade.
Stalwart the man and bold! fit his the part
Guide to his prince to be, and faithful heart.

--The Song of the Plantain-Gatherers--

We gather and gather the plantains;
Come gather them anyhow.
Yes, gather and gather the plantains,
And here we have got them now.

We gather and gather the plantains;
Now off the ears we must tear.
Yes, gather and gather the plantains,
And now the seeds are laid bare.

We gather and gather the plantains,
The seeds in our skirts are placed.
Yes, gather and gather the plantains.
Ho! safe in the girdled waist!

--The Affection of the Wives on the Joo--

Along the raised banks of the Joo,
To hew slim stem and branch I wrought,
My lord away, my husband true,
Like hunger-pang my troubled thought!

Along the raised banks of the Joo,
Branch and fresh shoot confessed my art.
I've seen my lord, my husband true,
And still he folds me in his heart.

As the toiled bream makes red its tail,
Toil you, Sir, for the Royal House;
Amidst its blazing fires, nor quail:�
Your parents see you pay your vows.

BOOK II

THE ODES OF SHAOU AND THE SOUTH

--The Marriage of a Princess--

In the magpie's nest
Dwells the dove at rest.
This young bride goes to her future home;
To meet her a hundred chariots come.

Of the magpie's nest
Is the dove possessed.
This bride goes to her new home to live;
And escort a hundred chariots give.

The nest magpie wove
Now filled by the dove.
This bride now takes to her home her way;
And these numerous cars her state display.

--The Industry and Reverence of a Prince's Wife--

Around the pools, the islets o'er,
Fast she plucks white Southern-wood,
To help the sacrificial store;
And for our prince does service good.

Where streams among the valleys shine,
Of Southern-woods she plucks the white;
And brings it to the sacred shrine,
To aid our prince in solemn rite.

In head-dress high, most reverent, she
The temple seeks at early dawn.
The service o'er, the head-dress see
To her own chamber slow withdrawn.

--The Wife of Some Great Officer Bewails His Absence--

Shrill chirp the insects in the grass;
All about the hoppers spring.
While I my husband do not see,
Sorrow must my bosom wring.
O to meet him!
O to greet him!
Then my heart would rest and sing.

Ascending high that Southern hill,
Turtle ferns I strove to get.
While I my husband do not see,
Sorrow must my heart beset.
O to meet him!
O to greet him!
Then my heart would cease to fret.

Ascending high that Southern hill,
Spinous ferns I sought to find.
While I my husband do not see,
Rankles sorrow in my mind.
O to meet him!
O to greet him!
In my heart would peace be shrined.

--The Diligence of the Young Wife of an Officer--

She gathers fast the large duckweed,
From valley stream that southward flows;
And for the pondweed to the pools
Left on the plains by floods she goes.

The plants, when closed her toil, she puts
In baskets round and baskets square.
Then home she hies to cook her spoil,
In pans and tripods ready there.

In sacred chamber this she sets,
Where the light falls down through the wall.
'Tis she, our lord's young reverent wife,
Who manages this service all.

--The Love of the People for the Duke of Shaou--

O fell not that sweet pear-tree!
See how its branches spread.
Spoil not its shade,
For Shaou's chief laid
Beneath it his weary head.

O clip not that sweet pear-tree!
Each twig and leaflet spare.
'Tis sacred now,
Since the lord of Shaou,
When weary, rested him there.

O touch not that sweet pear-tree!
Bend not a twig of it now.
There long ago,
As the stories show,
Oft halted the chief of Shaou.

--The Easy Dignity of the Officers at Some Court--

Arrayed in skins of lamb or sheep,
With five silk braidings all of white,
From court they go, to take their meal,
All self-possessed, with spirits light.

How on their skins of lamb or sheep
The five seams wrought with white silk show!
With easy steps, and self-possessed,
From court to take their meal, they go.

Upon their skins of lamb or sheep
Shines the white silk the seams to link.
With easy steps and self-possessed,
They go from court to eat and drink.

--Anxiety of a Young Lady to Get Married--

Ripe, the plums fall from the bough;
Only seven-tenths left there now!
Ye whose hearts on me are set,
Now the time is fortunate!

Ripe, the plums fall from the bough;
Only three-tenths left there now!
Ye who wish my love to gain,
Will not now apply in vain!

No more plums upon the bough!
All are in my basket now!
Ye who me with ardor seek,
Need the word but freely speak!

BOOK III

THE ODES OF P'EI

--An Officer Bewails the Neglect with which He is Treated--

It floats about, that boat of cypress wood,
Now here, now there, as by the current borne.
Nor rest nor sleep comes in my troubled mood;
I suffer as when painful wound has torn
The shrinking body. Thus I dwell forlorn,
And aimless muse, my thoughts of sorrow full.
I might with wine refresh my spirit worn;
I might go forth, and, sauntering try to cool
The fever of my heart; but grief holds sullen rule.

My mind resembles not a mirror plate,
Reflecting all the impressions it receives.
The good I love, the bad regard with hate;
I only cherish whom my heart believes.
Colleagues I have, but yet my spirit grieves,
That on their honor I cannot depend.
I speak, but my complaint no influence leaves
Upon their hearts; with mine no feelings blend;
With me in anger they, and fierce disdain contend.

My mind is fixed, and cannot, like a stone,
Be turned at will indifferently about;
And what I think, to that, and that alone,
I utterance give, alike within, without;
Nor can like mat be rolled and carried out.
With dignity in presence of them all,
My conduct marked, my goodness who shall scout?
My foes I boldly challenge, great and small,
If there be aught in me they can in question call.

How full of trouble is my anxious heart!
With hate the blatant herd of creatures mean
Ceaseless pursue. Of their attacks the smart
Keeps my mind in distress. Their venomed spleen
Aye vents itself; and with insulting mien
They vex my soul; and no one on my side
A word will speak. Silent, alone, unseen,
I think of my sad case; then opening wide
My eyes, as if from sleep, I beat my breast, sore-tried.

Thy disc, O sun, should ever be complete,
While thine, O changing moon, doth wax and wane.
But now our sun hath waned, weak and effete,
And moons are ever full. My heart with pain
Is firmly bound, and held in sorrow's chain,
As to the body cleaves an unwashed dress.
Silent I think of my sad case; in vain
I try to find relief from my distress.
Would I had wings to fly where ills no longer press!

--A Wife Deplores the Absence of Her Husband--

Away the startled pheasant flies,
With lazy movement of his wings.
Borne was my heart's lord from my eyes;�
What pain the separation brings!

The pheasant, though no more in view,
His cry, below, above, forth sends.
Alas! my princely lord, 'tis you�
Your absence, that my bosom rends.

At sun and moon I sit and gaze,
In converse with my troubled heart.
Far, far from me my husband stays!
When will he come to heal its smart?

Ye princely men who with him mate,
Say, mark ye not his virtuous way.
His rule is�covet nought, none hate;�
How can his steps from goodness stray?

--The Plaint of a Rejected Wife--

The east wind gently blows,
With cloudy skies and rain.
'Twixt man and wife should ne'er be strife,
But harmony obtain.
Radish and mustard plants
Are used, though some be poor;
While my good name is free from blame,
Don't thrust me from your door.

I go along the road,
Slow, with reluctant heart.
Your escort lame to door but came,
There glad from me to part.
Sow-thistle, bitter called,
As shepherd's purse is sweet;
With your new mate you feast elate,
As joyous brothers meet.

Part clear, the stream of King
Is foul beside the Wei.
You feast elate with your new mate,
And take no heed of me.
Loose mate, avoid my dam,
Nor dare my basket move!
Person slighted, life all blighted,
What can the future prove?

The water deep, in boat,
Or raft-sustained, I'd go;
And where the stream did narrow seem,
I dived or breasted through.
I labored to increase
Our means, or great or small;
When 'mong friends near death did appear,
On knees to help I'd crawl.

No cherishing you give,
I'm hostile in your eyes.
As pedler's wares for which none cares,
My virtues you despise.

When poverty was nigh,
I strove our means to spare;
You, now rich grown, me scorn to own;
To poison me compare.

The stores for winter piled
Are all unprized in spring.
So now, elate with your new mate,
Myself away you fling.
Your cool disdain for me
A bitter anguish hath.
The early time, our love's sweet prime,
In you wakes only wrath.

--Soldiers of Wei Bewail Separation from Their Families--

List to the thunder and roll of the drum!
See how we spring and brandish the dart!
Some raise Ts'aou's walls; some do field work at home;
But we to the southward lonely depart.

Our chief, Sun Tsze-chung, agreement has made,
Our forces to join with Ch'in and with Sung.
When shall we back from this service be led?
Our hearts are all sad, our courage unstrung.

Here we are halting, and there we delay;
Anon we soon lose our high-mettled steeds.
The forest's gloom makes our steps go astray;
Each thicket of trees our searching misleads.

For death as for life, at home or abroad,
We pledged to our wives our faithfulest word.
Their hands clasped in ours, together we vowed,
We'd live to old age in sweetest accord.

This march to the South can end but in ill;
Oh! never shall we our wives again meet.
The word that we pledged we cannot fulfil;
Us home returning they never will greet.

--An Officer Tells of His Mean Employment--

With mind indifferent, things I easy take;
In every dance I prompt appearance make:�
Then, when the sun is at his topmost height,
There, in the place that courts the public sight.

With figure large I in the courtyard dance,
And the duke smiles, when he beholds me prance.
A tiger's strength I have; the steeds swift bound;
The reins as ribbons in my hands are found.

See how I hold the flute in my left hand;
In right the pheasant's plume, waved like a wand;
With visage red, where rouge you think to trace,
While the duke pleased, sends down the cup of grace!

Hazel on hills; the ling in meadow damp;�
Each has its place, while I'm a slighted scamp.
My thoughts go back to th' early days of Chow,
And muse upon its chiefs, not equalled now.
O noble chiefs, who then the West adorned,
Would ye have thus neglected me and scorned?

--An Officer Sets Forth His Hard Lot--

My way leads forth by the gate on the north;
My heart is full of woe.
I hav'n't a cent, begged, stolen, or lent,
And friends forget me so.
So let it be! 'tis Heaven's decree.
What can I say�a poor fellow like me?

The King has his throne, sans sorrow or moan;
On me fall all his cares,
And when I come home, resolved not to roam,
Each one indignant stares.
So let it be! 'tis Heaven's decree.
What can I say�a poor fellow like me?

Each thing of the King, and the fate of the State,
On me come more and more.
And when, sad and worn, I come back forlorn,
They thrust me from the door.
So let it be! 'tis Heaven's decree.
What can I say�a poor fellow like me?

--The Complaint of a Neglected Wife--

When the upper robe is green,
With a yellow lining seen,
There we have a certain token,
Right is wronged and order broken.
How can sorrow from my heart
In a case like this depart?

Color green the robe displays;
Lower garment yellow's blaze.
Thus it is that favorite mean
In the place of wife is seen.
Vain the conflict with my grief;
Memory denies relief.

Yes, 'twas you the green who dyed,
You who fed the favorite's pride.
Anger rises in my heart,
Pierces it as with a dart.
But on ancient rules lean I,
Lest to wrong my thoughts should fly.

Fine or coarse, if thin the dress,
Cold winds always cause distress.
Hard my lot, my sorrow deep,
But my thoughts in check I keep.
Ancient story brings to mind
Sufferers who were resigned.

[NOTE.�Yellow is one of the five "correct" colors of the Chinese, while green is one of the "intermediate" colors that are less esteemed. Here we have the yellow used merely as a lining to the green, or employed in the lower, or less honorable, part of the dress;�an inversion of propriety, and intimating how a favorite had usurped the place of the rightful wife and thrust her down.]

--In Praise of a Maiden--

O sweet maiden, so fair and retiring,
At the corner I'm waiting for you;
And I'm scratching my head, and inquiring
What on earth it were best I should do.

Oh! the maiden, so handsome and coy,
For a pledge gave a slim rosy reed.
Than the reed is she brighter, my joy;
On her loveliness how my thoughts feed!

In the pastures a t'e blade she sought,
And she gave it, so elegant, rare.
Oh! the grass does not dwell in my thought,
But the donor, more elegant, fair.

--Discontent--

As when the north winds keenly blow,
And all around fast falls the snow,
The source of pain and suffering great,
So now it is in Wei's poor state.
Let us join hands and haste away,
My friends and lovers all.
'Tis not a time will brook delay;
Things for prompt action call.

As when the north winds whistle shrill,
And drifting snows each hollow fill,
The source of pain and suffering great,
So now it is in Wei's poor state,
Let us join hands, and leave for aye,
My friends and lovers all,
'Tis not a time will brook delay;
Things for prompt action call.

We look for red, and foxes meet;
For black, and crows our vision greet.
The creatures, both of omen bad,
Well suit the state of Wei so sad.

Let us join hands and mount our cars,
My friends and lovers all.
No time remains for wordy jars;
Things for prompt action call.

--Chwang Keang Bemoans Her Husband's Cruelty--

Fierce is the wind and cold;
And such is he.
Smiling he looks, and bold
Speaks mockingly.
Scornful and lewd his words,
Haughty his smile.
Bound is my heart with cords
In sorrow's coil.

As cloud of dust wind-blown,
Just such is he.
Ready he seems to own,
And come to me.
But he comes not nor goes,
Stands in his pride.
Long, long, with painful throes,
Grieved I abide.

Strong blew the wind; the cloud
Hastened away.
Soon dark again, the shroud
Covers the day.
I wake, and sleep no more
Visits my eyes.
His course I sad deplore,
With heavy sighs.

Cloudy the sky, and dark;
The thunders roll.
Such outward signs well mark
My troubled soul.
I wake, and sleep no more
Comes to give rest.
His course I sad deplore,
In anguished breast.

[NOTE: Selections from Books IV., V., and VI., have been omitted.]

BOOK VII

THE ODES OF CH'ING

--The People's Admiration for Duke Woo--

The black robes well your form befit;
When they are worn we'll make you new.
Now for your court! oh! there we'll sit,
And watch how you your duties do.
And when we to our homes repair,
We'll send to you our richest fare,
Such is the love to you we bear!

Those robes well with your virtue match;
When they are worn we'll make you new.
Now for your court! There will we watch,
Well pleased, how you your duties do.
And when we to our homes repair,
We'll send to you our richest fare,
Such is the love to you we bear!

Those robes your character beseem;
When they are worn we'll make you new.
Now for your court! oh! there we deem
It pleasure great your form to view.
And when we to our homes repair,
We'll send to you our richest fare,
Such is the love to you we bear!

--A Wife Consoled by Her Husband's Arrival--

Cold is the wind, fast falls the rain,
The cock aye shrilly crows.
But I have seen my lord again;�
Now must my heart repose.

Whistles the wind, patters the rain,
The cock's crow far resounds.
But I have seen my lord again,
And healed are my heart's wounds.

All's dark amid the wind and rain,
Ceaseless the cock's clear voice!
But I have seen my lord again;�
Should not my heart rejoice?

--In Praise of Some Lady--

There by his side in chariot rideth she,
As lovely flower of the hibiscus tree,
So fair her face; and when about they wheel,
Her girdle gems of Ken themselves reveal.
For beauty all the House of K�ang have fame;
Its eldest daughter�she beseems her name.

There on the path, close by him, walketh she,
Bright as the blossom of hibiscus tree,
And fair her face; and when around they flit,
Her girdle gems a tinkling sound emit.
Among the Keang she has distinguished place,
For virtuous fame renowned, and peerless grace.

--A Man's Praise of His Wife--

My path forth from the east gate lay,
Where cloud-like moved the girls at play.
Numerous are they, as clouds so bright,
But not on them my heart's thoughts light.
Dressed in a thin white silk, with coiffure gray
Is she, my wife, my joy in life's low way.

Forth by the covering wall's high tower,
I went, and saw, like rush in flower,
Each flaunting girl. Brilliant are they,
But not with them my heart's thoughts stay.
In thin white silk, with head-dress madder-dyed,
Is she, my sole delight, 'foretime my bride.

--An Entreaty--

Along the great highway,
I hold you by the cuff.
O spurn me not, I pray,
Nor break old friendship off.

Along the highway worn,
I hold your hand in mine.
Do not as vile me scorn;
Your love I can't resign.

--A Woman Scorning Her Lover--

O dear! that artful boy
Refuses me a word!
But, Sir, I shall enjoy
My food, though you're absurd!

O dear! that artful boy
My table will not share!
But, Sir, I shall enjoy
My rest, though you're not there!

--A Lady Mourns the Absence of Her Student Lover--

You student, with the collar blue,
Long pines my heart with anxious pain.
Although I do not go to you,
Why from all word do you refrain?

O you, with girdle strings of blue,
My thoughts to you forever roam!
Although I do not go to you,
Yet why to me should you not come?

How reckless you, how light and wild,
There by the tower upon the wall!
One day, from sight of you exiled,
As long as three long months I call.

[NOTE: Selections from Books IV., V., and VI., have been omitted.]

BOOK VIII

THE ODES OF TS'E

--A Wife Urging Her Husband to Action--

His lady to the marquis says,
"The cock has crowed; 'tis late.
Get up, my lord, and haste to court.
'Tis full; for you they wait."
She did not hear the cock's shrill sound,
Only the blueflies buzzing round.

Again she wakes him with the words,
"The east, my lord, is bright.
A crowded court your presence seeks;
Get up and hail the light."
'Twas not the dawning light which shone,
But that which by the moon was thrown.

He sleeping still, once more she says,
"The flies are buzzing loud.
To lie and dream here by your side
Were pleasant, but the crowd
Of officers will soon retire;
Draw not on you and me their ire!"

--The Folly of Useless Effort--

The weeds will but the ranker grow,
If fields too large you seek to till.
To try to gain men far away
With grief your toiling heart will fill,

If fields too large you seek to till,
The weeds will only rise more strong.
To try to gain men far away
Will but your heart's distress prolong.

Things grow the best when to themselves
Left, and to nature's vigor rare.
How young and tender is the child,
With his twin tufts of falling hair!
But when you him ere long behold,
That child shall cap of manhood wear!

--The Prince of Loo--

A grand man is the prince of Loo,
With person large and high.
Lofty his front and suited to
The fine glance of his eye!
Swift are his feet. In archery
What man with him can vie?
With all these goodly qualities,
We see him and we sigh!

Renowned through all the land is he,
The nephew of our lord.
With clear and lovely eyes, his grace
May not be told by word.
All day at target practice,
He'll never miss the bird.
Such is the prince of Loo, and yet
With grief for him we're stirred!

All grace and beauty he displays,
High forehead and eyes bright.
And dancing choice! His arrows all
The target hit aright.
Straight through they go, and every one
Lights on the self-same spot.
Rebellion he could well withstand,
And yet we mourn his lot!

BOOK IX

THE ODES OF WEI

--On the Misgovernment of the State--

A fruit, small as the garden peach,
May still be used for food.
A State, though poor as ours, might thrive,
If but its rule were good.
Our rule is bad, our State is sad,
With mournful heart I grieve.
All can from instrument and voice
My mood of mind perceive.
Who know me not, with scornful thought,
Deem me a scholar proud.
"Those men are right," they fiercely say,
"What mean your words so loud?"
Deep in my heart my sorrows lie,
And none the cause may know.
How should they know who never try
To learn whence comes our woe?

The garden jujube, although small,
May still be used for food.
A State, though poor as ours, might thrive,
If but its rule were good.
Our rule is bad, our State is sad,
With mournful heart I grieve.
Methinks I'll wander through the land,
My misery to relieve.
Who know me not, with scornful thought,
Deem that wild views I hold.
"Those men are right," they fiercely say,
"What mean your words so bold?"

Deep in my heart my sorrows lie,
And none the cause may know.
How can they know, who never try
To learn whence comes our woe?

--The Mean Husband--

Thin cloth of dolichos supplies the shoes,
In which some have to brave the frost and cold.
A bride, when poor, her tender hands must use,
Her dress to make, and the sharp needle hold.
This man is wealthy, yet he makes his bride
Collars and waistbands for his robes provide.

Conscious of wealth, he moves with easy mien;
Politely on the left he takes his place;
The ivory pin is at his girdle seen:�
His dress and gait show gentlemanly grace.
Why do we brand him in our satire here?
'Tis this�-his niggard soul provokes the sneer.

--A Young Soldier on Service--

To the top of that tree-clad hill I go,
And towards my father I gaze,
Till with my mind's eye his form I espy,
And my mind's ear hears how he says:�
"Alas for my son on service abroad!
He rests not from morning till eve.
May he careful be and come back to me!
While he is away, how I grieve!"

To the top of that barren hill I climb,
And towards my mother I gaze,
Till with my mind's eye her form I espy,
And my mind's ear hears how she says:�
"Alas for my child on service abroad!
He never in sleep shuts an eye.
May he careful be, and come back to me!
In the wild may his body not lie!"

Up the lofty ridge I, toiling, ascend,
And towards my brother I gaze,
Till with my mind's eye his form I espy,
And my mind's ear hears how he says:�
"Alas! my young brother, serving abroad,
All day with his comrades must roam.
May he careful be, and come back to me,
And die not away from his home."

BOOK X

THE ODES OF TANG

--The King Goes to War--

The wild geese fly the bushy oaks around,
With clamor loud. Suh-suh their wings resound,
As for their feet poor resting-place is found.
The King's affairs admit of no delay.
Our millet still unsown, we haste away.
No food is left our parents to supply;
When we are gone, on whom can they rely?
O azure Heaven, that shinest there afar,
When shall our homes receive us from the war?

The wild geese on the bushy jujube-trees
Attempt to settle and are ill at ease;�
Suh-suh their wings go flapping in the breeze.
The King's affairs admit of no delay;
Our millet still unsown, we haste away.
How shall our parents their requirements get?
How in our absence shall their wants be met?
O azure Heaven, that shinest there afar,
When shall our homes receive us from the war?

The bushy mulberry-trees the geese in rows
Seek eager and to rest around them close�
With rustling loud, as disappointment grows.
The King's affairs admit of no delay;
To plant our rice and maize we cannot stay.
How shall our parents find their wonted food?
When we are gone, who will to them be good?
O azure Heaven, that shinest there afar,
When shall our homes receive us from the war?

--Lament of a Bereaved Person--

A russet pear-tree rises all alone,
But rich the growth of leaves upon it shown!
I walk alone, without one brother left,
And thus of natural aid am I bereft.
Plenty of people there are all around,
But none like my own father's sons are found.
Ye travellers, who forever hurry by,
Why on me turn the unsympathizing eye?
No brother lives with whom my cause to plead;�
Why not perform for me the helping deed?

A russet pear-tree rises all alone,
But rich with verdant foliage o'ergrown.
I walk alone, without one brother's care,
To whom I might, amid my straits repair.
Plenty of people there are all around,
But none like those of my own name are found.
Ye travellers, who forever hurry by,
Why on me turn the unsympathizing eye?
No brother lives with whom my cause to plead;�
Why not perform for me the helping deed?

--The Drawbacks of Poverty--

On the left of the way, a russet pear-tree
Stands there all alone�a fit image of me.
There is that princely man! O that he would come,
And in my poor dwelling with me be at home!
In the core of my heart do I love him, but say,
Whence shall I procure him the wants of the day?

At the bend in the way a russet pear-tree
Stands there all alone�a fit image of me.
There is that princely man! O that he would come,
And rambling with me be himself here at home!
In the core of my heart I love him, but say,
Whence shall I procure him the wants of the day?

--A Wife Mourns for Her Husband--

The dolichos grows and covers the thorn,
O'er the waste is the dragon-plant creeping.
The man of my heart is away and I mourn�
What home have I, lonely and weeping?

Covering the jujubes the dolichos grows,
The graves many dragon-plants cover;
But where is the man on whose breast I'd repose?
No home have I, having no lover!

Fair to see was the pillow of horn,
And fair the bed-chamber's adorning;
But the man of my heart is not here, and I mourn
All alone, and wait for the morning.

While the long days of summer pass over my head,
And long winter nights leave their traces,
I'm alone! Till a hundred of years shall have fled,
And then I shall meet his embraces.

Through the long winter nights I am burdened with fears,
Through the long summer days I am lonely;
But when time shall have counted its hundreds of years
I then shall be his�and his only!

BOOK XI

THE ODES OF TS'IN

--Celebrating the Opulence of the Lords of Ts'in--

Our ruler to the hunt proceeds;
And black as iron are his steeds
That heed the charioteer's command,
Who holds the six reins in his hand.
His favorites follow to the chase,
Rejoicing in his special grace.

The season's males, alarmed, arise�
The season's males, of wondrous size.
Driven by the beaters, forth they spring,
Soon caught within the hunters' ring.
"Drive on their left," the ruler cries;
And to its mark his arrow flies.

The hunting done, northward he goes;
And in the park the driver shows
The horses' points, and his own skill
That rules and guides them at his will.
Light cars whose teams small bells display,
The long-and short-mouthed dogs convey.

--A Complaint--

He lodged us in a spacious house,
And plenteous was our fare.
But now at every frugal meal
There's not a scrap to spare.
Alas! alas that this good man
Could not go on as he began!

--A Wife's Grief Because of Her Husband's Absence--

The falcon swiftly seeks the north,
And forest gloom that sent it forth.
Since I no more my husband see,
My heart from grief is never free.
O how is it, I long to know,
That he, my lord, forgets me so?

Bushy oaks on the mountain grow,
And six elms where the ground is low.
But I, my husband seen no more,
My sad and joyless fate deplore.
O how is it, I long to know,
That he, my lord, forgets me so?

The hills the bushy wild plums show,
And pear-trees grace the ground below.
But, with my husband from me gone,
As drunk with grief, I dwell alone.
O how is it, I long to know,
That he, my lord, forgets me so?

--Lament for Three Brothers--

They flit about, the yellow birds,
And rest upon the jujubes find.
Who buried were in duke Muh's grave,
Alive to awful death consigned?

'Mong brothers three, who met that fate,
'Twas sad the first, Yen-seih to see.
He stood alone; a hundred men
Could show no other such as he.
When to the yawning grave he came,
Terror unnerved and shook his frame.

Why thus destroy our noblest men,
To thee we cry, O azure Heaven!
To save Yen-seih from death, we would
A hundred lives have freely given.

They flit about, the yellow birds,
And on the mulberry-trees rest find.
Who buried were in duke Muh's grave,
Alive to awful death consigned?

'Mong brothers three, who met that fate,
'Twas sad the next, Chung-hang to see.
When on him pressed a hundred men,
A match for all of them was he.
When to the yawning grave he came,
Terror unnerved and shook his frame.

Why thus destroy our noblest men,
To thee we cry, O azure Heaven!
To save Chung-hang from death, we would
A hundred lives have freely given.

They flit about, the yellow birds,
And rest upon the thorn-trees find.
Who buried were in duke Muh's grave,
Alive to awful death consigned?

'Mong brothers three, who met that fate,
'Twas sad the third, K'�en-foo, to see.
A hundred men in desperate fight
Successfully withstand could he.
When to the yawning grave he came,
Terror unnerved and shook his frame.

Why thus destroy our noblest men,
To thee we cry, O azure Heaven!
To save K'�en-foo from death, we would
A hundred lives have freely given.

[NOTE.�The incident related in this poem occurred in the year B.C. 620, when the duke of Muh died after playing an important part in the affairs of Northwest China. Muh required the three officers here celebrated, to be buried with him, and according to the "Historical Records" this barbarous practice began with duke Ching, Muh's predecessor. In all, 170 individuals were buried with Muh. The death of the last distinguished man of the Ts'in dynasty, the Emperor I, was subsequently celebrated by the entombment with him of all the inmates of his harem.]

--In Praise of a Ruler of Ts'in--

What trees grow on the Chung-nan hill?
The white fir and the plum.
In fur of fox, 'neath 'broidered robe,
Thither our prince is come.
His face glows with vermilion hue.
O may he prove a ruler true!

What find we on the Chung-nan hill?
Deep nook and open glade.
Our prince shows there the double Ke
On lower robe displayed.
His pendant holds each tinkling gem,
Long life be his, and deathless fame!

--The Generous Nephew--

I escorted my uncle to Tsin,
Till the Wei we crossed on the way.
Then I gave as I left
For his carriage a gift
Four steeds, and each steed was a bay.

I escorted my uncle to Tsin,
And I thought of him much in my heart.
Pendent stones, and with them
Of fine jasper a gem,
I gave, and then saw him depart.

BOOK XII

THE ODES OF CH'IN

--The Contentment of a Poor Recluse--

My only door some pieces of crossed wood,
Within it I can rest enjoy.
I drink the water wimpling from the spring;
Nor hunger can my peace destroy.

Purged from ambition's aims I say, "For fish.
We need not bream caught in the Ho;
Nor, to possess the sweets of love, require
To Ts'e, to find a Keang, to go.

"The man contented with his lot, a meal
Of fish without Ho carp can make;
Nor needs, to rest in his domestic joy,
A Tsze of Sung as wife to take."

--The Disappointed Lover--

Where grow the willows near the eastern gate,
And 'neath their leafy shade we could recline,
She said at evening she would me await,
And brightly now I see the day-star shine!

Here where the willows near the eastern gate
Grow, and their dense leaves make a shady gloom,
She said at evening she would me await.
See now the morning star the sky illume!

--A Love-Song--

The moon comes forth, bright in the sky;
A lovelier sight to draw my eye
Is she, that lady fair.
She round my heart has fixed love's chain,
But all my longings are in vain.
'Tis hard the grief to bear.

The moon comes forth, a splendid sight;
More winning far that lady bright,
Object of my desire!
Deep-seated is my anxious grief;
In vain I seek to find relief;
While glows the secret fire.

The rising moon shines mild and fair;
More bright is she, whose beauty rare
My heart with longing fills.
With eager wish I pine in vain;
O for relief from constant pain,
Which through my bosom thrills!

--The Lament of a Lover--

There where its shores the marsh surround,
Rushes and lotus plants abound.
Their loveliness brings to my mind
The lovelier one that I would find.
In vain I try to ease the smart
Of wounded love that wrings my heart.
In waking thought and nightly dreams,
From every pore the water streams.

All round the marsh's shores are seen
Valerian flowers and rushes green.
But lovelier is that Beauty rare,
Handsome and large, and tall and fair,
I wish and long to call her mine,
Doomed with the longing still to pine.
Nor day nor night e'er brings relief;
My inmost heart is full of grief.

Around the marsh, in rich display,
Grow rush and lotus flowers, all gay.
But not with her do they compare,
So tall and large, majestic, fair.
Both day and night, I nothing speed;
Still clings to me the aching need.
On side, on back, on face, I lie,
But vain each change of posture.

THE ODES OF KWEI

--The Wish of an Unhappy Man--

Where the grounds are wet and low,
There the trees of goat-peach grow,
With their branches small and smooth,
Glossy in their tender youth.
Joy it were to me, O tree,
Consciousness to want like thee.

Where the grounds are wet and low,
There the trees of goat-peach grow.
Soft and fragrant are their flowers,
Glossy from the vernal showers.
Joy it were to me, O tree,
Ties of home to want like thee.

Where the grounds are wet and low,
There the trees of goat-peach grow,
What delicious fruits they bear,
Glossy, soft, of beauty rare!
Joy it were to me, O tree,
Household cares to want like thee.

BOOK XIV

THE ODES OF TS'AOU

--Against Frivolous Pursuits--

Like splendid robes appear the wings
Of the ephemeral fly;
And such the pomp of those great men,
Which soon in death shall lie!
I grieve! Would they but come to me!
To teach them I should try.

The wings of the ephemeral fly
Are robes of colors gay;
And such the glory of those men,
Soon crumbling to decay!
I grieve! Would they but rest with me,
They'd learn a better way!

The ephemeral fly bursts from its hole,
With gauzy wings like snow;
So quick the rise, so quick the fall,
Of those great men we know!
I grieve! Would they but lodge with me,
Forth they would wiser go.

BOOK XV

THE ODES OF PIN

--The Duke of Chow Tells of His Soldiers--

To the hills of the east we went,
And long had we there to remain.
When the word of recall was sent,
Thick and fast came the drizzling rain.
When told our return we should take,
Our hearts in the West were and sore;
But there did they clothes for us make:�
They knew our hard service was o'er.
On the mulberry grounds in our sight
The large caterpillars were creeping;
Lonely and still we passed the night,
All under our carriages sleeping.

To the hills of the East we went,
And long had we there to remain.
When the word of recall was sent,
Thick and fast came the drizzling rain.
The heavenly gourds rise to the eye,
With their fruit hanging under the eave.
In our chambers the sow-bug we spy;
Their webs on our doors spiders weave.
Our paddocks seem crowded with deer,
With the glow-worm's light all about.
Such thoughts, while they filled us with fear,
We tried, but in vain, to keep out.

To the hills of the East we went,
And long had we there to remain.
When the word of recall was sent,
Thick and fast came the drizzling rain.

On ant-hills screamed cranes with delight;
In their rooms were our wives sighing sore.
Our homes they had swept and made tight:�
All at once we arrived at the door.
The bitter gourds hanging are seen,
From branches of chestnut-trees high.
Three years of toil away we had been,
Since such a sight greeted the eye.

To the hills of the East we went,
And long had we there to remain.
When the word of recall was sent,
Thick and fast came the drizzling rain.
With its wings now here, and now there,
Is the oriole sporting in flight.
Those brides to their husbands repair,
Their steeds red and bay, flecked with white.
Each mother has fitted each sash;
Their equipments are full and complete;
But fresh unions, whatever their dash,
Can ne'er with reunions compete.

--There is a Proper Way for Doing Everything--

In hewing an axe-shaft, how must you act?
Another axe take, or you'll never succeed.
In taking a wife, be sure 'tis a fact,
That with no go-between you never can speed.

In hewing an axe-shaft, hewing a shaft,
For a copy you have the axe in your hand.

In choosing a wife, you follow the craft,
And forthwith on the mats the feast-vessels stand.





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