Now each to Chow his homage pays—­
  So dark and changing are Heaven’s ways. 
  When we pour our libations here,
  The officers of Shang appear,
  Quick and alert to give their aid:—­
  Such is the service by them paid,
  While still they do not cast aside
  The cap and broidered axe—­their pride. 
  Ye servants of our line of kings,
  Remember him from whom it springs.

  Remember him from whom it springs;—­
  Let this give to your virtue wings. 
  Seek harmony with Heaven’s great mind;—­
  So shall you surest blessing find. 
  Ere Shang had lost the nation’s heart,
  Its monarchs all with God had part
  In sacrifice.  From them you see
  ’Tis hard to keep high Heaven’s decree.

  ’Tis hard to keep high Heaven’s decree! 
  O sin not, or you cease to be. 
  To add true lustre to your name,
  See Shang expire in Heaven’s dread flame. 
  For Heaven’s high dealings are profound,
  And far transcend all sense and sound. 
  From Wan your pattern you must draw,
  And all the States will own your law.

[Book II. is omitted]

BOOK III [*]

DECADE OF TANG

King Seuen on the Occasion of a Great Drought

  Grand shone the Milky Way on high,
  With brilliant span athwart the sky,
    Nor promise gave of rain. 
  King Seuen long gazed; then from him broke,
  In anguished tones the words he spoke. 
    Well might he thus complain! 
  “O Heaven, what crimes have we to own,
  That death and ruin still come down? 
  Relentless famine fills our graves. 
  Pity the king who humbly craves! 
    Our miseries never cease. 
  To every Spirit I have vowed;
  The choicest victim’s blood has flowed. 
  As offerings I have freely paid
  My store of gems and purest jade. 
    Hear me, and give release!

  “The drought consumes us.  As on wing
  Its fervors fly, and torment bring. 
  With purest mind and ceaseless care
  My sacrifices I prepare. 
  At thine own border altars, Heaven,
  And in my father’s fane, I’ve given
    What might relief have found. 
  What Powers above, below, have sway,
  To all my precious gifts I pay,
    Then bury in the ground. 
  Yes, every Spirit has received
  Due honor, and, still unrelieved,
    Our sufferings greater grow. 
  How-tseih can’t give the needed aid,
  And help from God is still delayed! 
  The country lies a ruined waste. 
  O would that I alone might taste
    This bitter cup of woe!

  “The drought consumes us.  Nor do I
  To fix the blame on others try. 
  I quake with dread; the risk I feel,
  As when I hear the thunders peal,
    Or fear its sudden crash. 
  Our black-haired race, a remnant now,
  Will every one be swept from Chow,