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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 pa.s.sed 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.
_PART II.--MINOR ODES OF THE KINGDOM_
BOOK I
_Decade of Luh Ming_
A FESTAL ODE
With sounds of happiness the deer Browse on the celery of the meads.
A n.o.bler feast is furnished here, With guests renowned for n.o.ble deeds.
The lutes are struck; the organ blows, Till all its tongues in movement heave.
Each basket loaded stands, and shows The precious gifts the guests receive.
They love me and my mind will teach, How duty's highest aim to reach.
With sounds of happiness the deer The southern-wood crop in the meads, What n.o.ble guests surround me here, Distinguished for their worthy deeds!
From them my people learn to fly Whate'er is mean; to chiefs they give A model and a pattern high;-- They show the life they ought to live.
Then fill their cups with spirits rare, Till each the banquet's joy shall share.
With sounds of happiness the deer The salsola crop in the fields.
What n.o.ble guests surround me here!
Each lute for them its music yields.
Sound, sound the lutes, or great or small, The joy harmonious to prolong;-- And with my spirits rich crown all The cups to cheer the festive throng.
Let each retire with gladdened heart, In his own sphere to play his part.
A FESTAL ODE COMPLIMENTING AN OFFICER
On dashed my four steeds, without halt, without stay, Though toilsome and winding from Chow was the way.
I wished to return--but the monarch's command Forbade that his business be done with slack hand; And my heart was with sadness oppressed.
On dashed my four steeds; I ne'er slackened the reins.
They snorted and panted--all white, with black manes.
I wished to return, but our sovereign's command Forbade that his business be done with slack hand;-- And I dared not to pause or to rest.
Unresting the Filial doves speed in their flight, Ascending, then sweeping swift down from the height, Now grouped on the oaks. The king's high command Forbade that his business be done with slack hand;-- And my father I left, sore distressed.
Unresting the Filial doves speed in their flight, Now fanning the air and anon they alight On the medlars thick grouped. But our monarch's command Forbade that his business be done with slack hand;-- Of my mother I thought with sad breast.
My four steeds I harnessed, all white and black-maned, Which straight on their way, fleet and emulous strained.
I wished to return; and now venture in song The wish to express, and announce how I long For my mother my care to attest.
[NOTE.--Both Maou and Choo agree that this ode was composed in honor of the officer who narrates the story in it, although they say it was not written by the officer himself, but was put into his mouth, as it were, to express the sympathy of his entertainer with him, and the appreciation of his devotion to duty.]
THE VALUE OF FRIENDSHIP
The woodmen's blows responsive ring, As on the trees they fall; And when the birds their sweet notes sing, They to each other call.
From the dark valley comes a bird, And seeks the lofty tree.
_Ying_ goes its voice, and thus it cries, "Companion, come to me."
The bird, although a creature small, Upon its mate depends; And shall we men, who rank o'er all, Not seek to have our friends?
All spirits love the friendly man, And hearken to his prayer.
What harmony and peace they can Bestow, his lot shall share.
_Hoo-hoo_ the woodmen all unite To shout, as trees they fell.
They do their work with all their might;-- What I have done I'll tell.