I. AN OFFICER OF WORTH BEWAILS THE NEGLECT AND CONTEMPT WITH WHICH HE WAS TREATED.

1 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 [lawful drink] refresh my spirit worn; I might go forth, and, sauntering, try to cool The fever of my heart; but grief holds sullen rule.

2 My mind resembles not a mirror plate, Reflecting all th' 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 honour 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.

3 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.

4 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.

5 Thy disk, 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!

II. THE COMPLAINT, SAD BUT RESIGNED, OF A NEGLECTED WIFE.

1 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?

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

3 Yes, 'twas you the green who dyed, You who fed the favourite'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.

4 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.

III. CHWANG KEANG RELATES HER GRIEF AT THE DEPARTURE OF TAE KWEI, AND CELEBRATES THAT LADY'S VIRTUE.

1 With wings, not level, spread, About the swallows stir. Homeward the lady sped, And I escorted her. And when away from sight she passed, Like rain, my tears came falling fast.

2 The swallows fly about, Now up, now down, they dart. She to her home set out, And I was loth to part. Her form when distance from me kept, Long time I stood, and silent wept.

3 Above, beneath, their cry The flying swallows vent. Homeward she passed, and I Far with her southwards went. Her form when distance from me bore, With bitter grief my heart was sore.

4 This lady Chung loved me With feeling true and deep. Docile and good was she, Nor failed the right to keep. Unworthy me her deed and word Taught to respect our former lord.

IV. CHWANG KEANG COMPLAINS OF, AND APPEALS AGAINST, THE BAD TREATMENT WHICH SHE RECEIVED FROM HER HUSBAND.

1 O sun so bright, O moon so fair [signs of GOD], This lower earth that light, Behold this man, so bold to dare Transgress the ancient right. How shall he fix his restless mind? Would he not then to me be kind?

2 O sun, O moon, whose shining vault O'erspreads this earth below, Behold this man, with wilful fault, Kindness refuse to show. His restless mind how shall he turn? He could not then my fondness spurn.

3 O sun, O moon, in upper sphere, That from the east come forth, This man speaks phrases sounding fair, But all of little worth. Were but his mind to goodness set, He could not me so much forget.

4 O sun so bright, O moon so fair, That from the east forth come; O parents dear, whose tender care Ne'er comes in this new home; If fixed his mind, 'gainst reason sage He could not thus my heart outrage.

V. CHWANG KEANG BEMOANS THE SUPERCILIOUS TREATMENT WHICH SHE RECEIVED FROM HER HUSBAND.

1 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.

2 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.

3 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.

4 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.

VI. SOLDIERS OF WEI BEWAIL THEIR SEPARATION FROM THEIR FAMILIES, AND ANTICIPATE THAT IT WILL BE FINAL.

1 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 fieldwork at home; But we to the southward lonely depart.

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

3 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.

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

5 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.

VII. SEVEN SONS OF SOME FAMILY IN WEI BLAME THEMSELVES FOR THE RESTLESS UNHAPPINESS OF THEIR MOTHER.

1 On that jujube tree the wind, From the south, blows soft and kind, Till each twig, in inmost place, Swells with life, and shines with grace. O how great the toil and care 'Twas our mother's lot to bear!

2 On that jujube tree the wind, From the south, blows soft and kind, Till its branches all are seen Bright and rich in living green. Wise our mother is and good; Goodness we have never showed.

3 See that cool and crystal spring, How its waters comfort bring, Welling forth the city near, All who dwell in Tseun to cheer! Pained our mother is and tried, As if help we seven denied.

4 In their yellow plumage bright, Lovely gleam those birds to sight, And their notes fall on the ear, Rich and, oh! so sweet to hear. Seven sons we, without the art To compose our mother's heart!

VIII. A WIFE DEPLORES THE ABSENCE OF HER HUSBAND, AND CELEBRATES HIS VIRTUE.

1 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!

2 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.

3 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?

4 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?

IX. AGAINST THE LICENTIOUS MANNERS OF WEI.

1 Its bitter leaves still hang upon the gourd; Deep is the water where we cross the ford. Conditions these which well might make them pause, But bent are they to break the heavenly laws! "We'll cross," they say, "if deep, clothes on go through; If shallow, holding up our clothes will do."

2 To overflowing full the ford appears; The female pheasant's cry salutes their ears. Now will they pause, nor tempt the foaming stream. In vain the warning; more intent they seem. "The depth," they say: "our axles will not wet, And by her cry the pheasant calls her mate."

3 In early morn, when 'gins to dawn the day, In spring, the ice not yet dissolved away, The gentleman, who home his wife would bring, Presents the goose, whose notes harmonious ring. Such is the rule, that virtue's law lays down; And such the rule which I will ever own.

4 The boatman beckons, waving oft his hand; And with him others cross, but I here stand. Others may cross, but not with them I go; I wait my friend, the proper time to show. I dare not rush to gratify mere lust; By virtue's law my lusts control I must.

X. THE PLAINT OF A WIFE SUPPLANTED BY ANOTHER, AND REJECTED BY HER HUSBAND.

1 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.

2 I go along the road, Slow, with reluctant heart. Your escort came 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.

3 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?

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

5 No cherishing you give, I'm hostile in your eyes; As pedlar'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.

6 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.

XI. THE OFFICERS OF SOME STATE, WHO WERE REFUGEES AND IN DISTRESS IN WEI, EXHORT THEIR RULER TO RETURN WITH THEM.

1 At this low ebb! At this low ebb! Why not, O prince, return to Le? But for your sake, why bide we here, Houseless beneath the dew to be?

2 At this low ebb! At this low ebb! Why not to Le go back again? But for your person, how should we Here in the mire so long have lain?

XII. THE REFUGEE MINISTERS OF LE COMPLAIN OF THOSE OF WEI FOR NOT ASSISTING THEM.

1 On that high sloping mound, With joints now parted wide, The plants of dolichos Show here we long abide. Wei's nobles, whom we uncles style, Why thus delay on us to smile?

2 They rest and do not stir;— Do they allies expect? Wherefore protract the time? Why us so much neglect? Some reason they could surely plead For conduct, strange in this our need.

3 In chariots of the west, Hither from danger borne, In Wei we live depressed, Our fox-furs frayed and worn. Ye nobles, uncles, sooth to say, For us no sympathy display.

4 A remnant small of Le, Driven from our proper home; Children dispersed, we hoped That help from Wei would come. Alas! though grand the robes you wear, You stop your ears against our prayer.

XIII. HALF IN SCORN, HALF IN SORROW, AN OFFICER OF WEI TELLS OF THE MEAN SERVICES IN WHICH HE WAS EMPLOYED.

1 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.

2 With figure large I in the court-yard 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.

3 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 [gift] of grace!

4 Hazels 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?

XIV. A DAUGHTER OF THE HOUSE OF WEI, MARRIED IN ANOTHER STATE, EXPRESSES HER LONGING TO REVISIT WEI.

1 As the streamlet from its spring Flows into the river K'e, So my daily thoughts on wing Fly, my native Wei, to thee; For I long with cousins there Counsel sweet and love to share.

2 For a night, at Tse I stayed; Drank the cup to Ne when come; Parents, brothers, farewell bade:— Such the fate on leaving home. Parents are not now alive; Aunts and sister still survive.

3 Lo! I hasten home again. Let the rushing chariot-wheel Pause at Kan, and part at Yen, Pebbles flashing to its steel. Does my heart go far astray, Panting for its native Wei?

4 By the Fei-ts'euen's winding stream Daily sighing thought will stray. Seu and Ts'aou in memory gleam, Broken glints of childhood's day. Spring, my horses! Speed, my wheels! Gone the grief my bosom feels!

XV. AN OFFICER OF WEI SETS FORTH, RATHER JESTINGLY, HIS HARD LOT, AND HIS SILENCE UNDER IT IN SUBMISSION TO HEAVEN [GOD].

1 My way leads forth by the gate on the north; My heart is full of woe. I haven'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?

2 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?

3 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?

XVI. ONE OF WEI PRESSES HIS FRIENDS TO LEAVE THE COUNTRY WITH HIM AT ONCE, IN CONSEQUENCE OF THE PREVAILING OPPRESSION AND MISERY.

1 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.

2 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.

3 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.

XVII. A GENTLEMAN DEPLORES HIS DISAPPOINTMENT IN NOT BEING MET BY A LADY ACCORDING TO ENGAGEMENT, AND CELEBRATES HER GIFTS AND BEAUTY.

1 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.

2 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!

3 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.

XVIII. SATIRIZING THE MARRIAGE OF DUKE SEUEN AND SEUEN KEANG.

1 The New tower, fresh and bright, they show, Where its vast volume rolls the Ho;— For bride a palace rare. To Wei she came, a mate to find; She sought a husband young and kind, But found this mis-shaped bear.

2 There stands the New tower grand and high, Where with still stream the Ho flows by;— For bride a palace rare. To Wei she came, a mate to find; She sought a husband young and kind, But found this mis-shaped bear.

3 As when the net for fish they set, And lo! a goose ensnared they get, They stamp with sudden ire; So might she stamp who came to wed The genial son, and in his stead Got but the hump-backed sire.

XIX. SURMISES AS TO THE DEATH OF TWO SONS OF DUKE SEUEN.

1 The two youths went into their boats, Whose shadow on the water floats. What evil to them came? Anxious and wondering, long we muse; Our hearts are tossed with tossing views. Some one must be to blame.

2 Into their boats the two youths passed, And on the stream were carried fast. What was there to alarm? With longing thought we fain would trace, The secret of their ill-starred race. Did they not come to harm?