BOOK VIII

THE DECADE OF TOO JIN SZE

In Praise of By-gone Simplicity

  In the old capital they stood,
    With yellow fox-furs plain,
  Their manners all correct and good,
    Speech free from vulgar stain. 
  Could we go back to Chow’s old days,
  All would look up to them with praise.

  In the old capital they wore
    T’ae hats and black caps small;
  And ladies, who famed surnames bore,
    Their own thick hair let fall. 
  Such simple ways are seen no more,
  And the changed manners I deplore.

  Ear-rings, made of plainest gold,
    In the old days were worn. 
  Each lady of a noble line
    A Yin or Keih seemed born. 
  Such officers and ladies now
  I see not and my sorrows grow.

  With graceful sweep their girdles fell,
    Then in the days of old. 
  The ladies’ side-hair, with a swell,
    Like scorpion’s tail, rose bold. 
  Such, if I saw them in these days,
  I’d follow with admiring gaze.

  So hung their girdles, not for show;—­
    To their own length ’twas due. 
  ’Twas not by art their hair curled so;—­
    By nature so it grew. 
  I seek such manners now in vain,
  And pine for them with longing pain.

[NOTE.—­Yin and Keih were clan names of great families, the ladies of which would be leaders of fashion in the capital.]

A Wife Bemoans Her Husband’s Absence

  So full am I of anxious thought,
  Though all the morn king-grass I’ve sought,
    To fill my arms I fail. 
  Like wisp all-tangled is my hair! 
  To wash it let me home repair. 
    My lord soon may I hail!

  Though ’mong the indigo I’ve wrought
  The morning long; through anxious thought
    My skirt’s filled but in part. 
  Within five days he was to appear;
  The sixth has come and he’s not here. 
    Oh! how this racks my heart!

  When here we dwelt in union sweet,
  If the hunt called his eager feet,
    His bow I cased for him. 
  Or if to fish he went away,
  And would be absent all the day,
    His line I put in trim.

  What in his angling did he catch? 
  Well worth the time it was to watch
    How bream and tench he took. 
  Men thronged upon the banks and gazed;
  At bream and tench they looked amazed,
    The triumphs of his hook.

The Earl of Shaou’s Work

  As the young millet, by the genial rain
    Enriched, shoots up luxuriant and tall,
  So, when we southward marched with toil and pain,
    The Earl of Shaou cheered and inspired us all.

  We pushed our barrows, and our burdens bore;
    We drove our wagons, and our oxen led. 
  “The work once done, our labor there is o’er,
    And home we travel,” to ourselves we said.