The Love of the People for the Duke of Shaou

  O fell not that sweet pear-tree! 
    See how its branches spread. 
      Spoil not its shade,
      For Shaou’s chief laid
    Beneath it his weary head.

  O clip not that sweet pear-tree! 
    Each twig and leaflet spare. 
      ’Tis sacred now,
      Since the lord of Shaou,
    When weary, rested him there.

  O touch not that sweet pear-tree! 
    Bend not a twig of it now. 
      There long ago,
      As the stories show,
    Oft halted the chief of Shaou.

The Easy Dignity of the Officers at Some Court

  Arrayed in skins of lamb or sheep,
    With five silk braidings all of white,
  From court they go, to take their meal,
    All self-possessed, with spirits light.

  How on their skins of lamb or sheep
    The five seams wrought with white silk show! 
  With easy steps, and self-possessed,
    From court to take their meal, they go.

  Upon their skins of lamb or sheep
    Shines the white silk the seams to link. 
  With easy steps and self-possessed,
    They go from court to eat and drink.

Anxiety of a Young Lady to Get Married

  Ripe, the plums fall from the bough;
  Only seven-tenths left there now! 
  Ye whose hearts on me are set,
  Now the time is fortunate!

  Ripe, the plums fall from the bough;
  Only three-tenths left there now! 
  Ye who wish my love to gain,
  Will not now apply in vain!

  No more plums upon the bough! 
  All are in my basket now! 
  Ye who me with ardor seek,
  Need the word but freely speak!

BOOK III

THE ODES OF P’EI

An Officer Bewails the Neglect with which He is Treated

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

  My mind resembles not a mirror plate,
    Reflecting all the 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 honor 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.