Chinese Literature Part 32

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 Friends.h.i.+p~

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.

I've strained and made my spirits clear, The fatted lambs I've killed.

With friends who my own surname bear, My hall I've largely filled.

Some may be absent, casually, And leave a broken line; But better this than absence by An oversight of mine.

My court I've sprinkled and swept clean, Viands in order set.

Eight dishes loaded stand with grain; There's store of fatted meat.

My mother's kith and kin I'm sure I've widely called by name.

That some be hindered better is Than ~I~ give cause for blame.

On the hill-side the trees they fell, All working with good-will I labor too, with equal zeal.

And the host's part fulfil.

Spirits I've set in order meet, The dishes stand in rows.

The guests are here; no vacant seat A brother absent shows.

The loss of kindly feeling oft From slightest things shall grow, Where all the fare is dry and spare, Resentments fierce may glow.

My store of spirits is well strained, If short prove the supply, My messengers I straightway send, And what is needed buy.

I beat the drums, and in the dance Lead joyously the train.

Oh! good it is, when falls the chance The sparkling cup to drain.

~The Response to a Festal Ode~

Heaven s.h.i.+elds and sets thee fast.

It round thee fair has cast Thy virtue pure.

Thus richest joy is thine;-- Increase of corn and wine, And every gift divine, Abundant, sure.

Heaven s.h.i.+elds and sets thee fast.

From it thou goodness hast; Right are thy ways.

Its choicest gifts 'twill pour, That last for evermore, Nor time exhaust the store Through endless days.

Heaven s.h.i.+elds and sets thee fast, Makes thine endeavor last And prosper well.

Like hills and mountains high, Whose ma.s.ses touch the sky; Like streams aye surging by; Thine increase swell!

With rite and auspice fair, Thine offerings thou dost bear, And son-like give, The season's round from spring, To olden duke and king, Whose words to thee we bring:-- "Forever live,"

The spirits of thy dead Pour blessings on thy head, Unnumbered sweet.

Thy subjects, simple, good, Enjoy their drink and food.

Our tribes of every blood Follow thy feet.

Like moons that wax in light; Or suns that scale the height; Or ageless hill; Nor change, nor autumn know; As pine and cypress grow; The sons that from thee flow Be lasting still!