Along the raised banks of the Joo,
    Branch and fresh shoot confessed my art. 
  I’ve seen my lord, my husband true,
    And still he folds me in his heart.

  As the toiled bream makes red its tail,
    Toil you, Sir, for the Royal House;
  Amidst its blazing fires, nor quail:—­
    Your parents see you pay your vows.

BOOK II

THE ODES OF SHAOU AND THE SOUTH

The Marriage of a Princess

    In the magpie’s nest
    Dwells the dove at rest. 
  This young bride goes to her future home;
  To meet her a hundred chariots come.

    Of the magpie’s nest
    Is the dove possessed. 
  This bride goes to her new home to live;
  And escort a hundred chariots give.

    The nest magpie wove
    Now filled by the dove. 
  This bride now takes to her home her way;
  And these numerous cars her state display.

The Industry and Reverence of a Prince’s Wife

  Around the pools, the islets o’er,
    Fast she plucks white Southern-wood,
  To help the sacrificial store;
    And for our prince does service good.

  Where streams among the valleys shine,
    Of Southern-woods she plucks the white;
  And brings it to the sacred shrine,
    To aid our prince in solemn rite.

  In head-dress high, most reverent, she
    The temple seeks at early dawn. 
  The service o’er, the head-dress see
    To her own chamber slow withdrawn.

The Wife of Some Great Officer Bewails His Absence

  Shrill chirp the insects in the grass;
    All about the hoppers spring. 
  While I my husband do not see,
    Sorrow must my bosom wring. 
      O to meet him! 
      O to greet him! 
    Then my heart would rest and sing.

  Ascending high that Southern hill,
    Turtle ferns I strove to get. 
  While I my husband do not see,
    Sorrow must my heart beset. 
      O to meet him! 
      O to greet him! 
    Then my heart would cease to fret.

  Ascending high that Southern hill,
    Spinous ferns I sought to find. 
  While I my husband do not see,
    Rankles sorrow in my mind. 
      O to meet him! 
      O to greet him! 
    In my heart would peace be shrined.

The Diligence of the Young Wife of an Officer

  She gathers fast the large duckweed,
    From valley stream that southward flows;
  And for the pondweed to the pools
    Left on the plains by floods she goes.

  The plants, when closed her toil, she puts
    In baskets round and baskets square. 
  Then home she hies to cook her spoil,
    In pans and tripods ready there.

  In sacred chamber this she sets,
    Where the light falls down through the wall. 
  ’Tis she, our lord’s young reverent wife,
    Who manages this service all.