[NOTE: Selections from Books IV., V., and VI., have been omitted.—EDITOR.]
BOOK VIII
THE ODES OF TS’E
A Wife Urging Her Husband to Action
His lady to the marquis says,
“The cock has
crowed; ’tis late.
Get up, my lord, and haste to court.
’Tis full; for
you they wait.”
She did not hear the cock’s shrill
sound,
Only the blueflies buzzing round.
Again she wakes him with the words,
“The east, my
lord, is bright.
A crowded court your presence seeks;
Get up and hail the
light.”
’Twas not the dawning light which
shone,
But that which by the moon was thrown.
He sleeping still, once more she says,
“The flies are
buzzing loud.
To lie and dream here by your side
Were pleasant, but the
crowd
Of officers will soon retire;
Draw not on you and me their ire!”
The Folly of Useless Effort
The weeds will but the ranker grow,
If fields too large you seek
to till.
To try to gain men far away
With grief your toiling heart
will fill,
If fields too large you seek to till,
The weeds will only rise more
strong.
To try to gain men far away
Will but your heart’s
distress prolong.
Things grow the best when to themselves
Left, and to nature’s
vigor rare.
How young and tender is the child,
With his twin tufts of falling
hair!
But when you him ere long behold,
That child shall cap of manhood
wear!
The Prince of Loo
A grand man is the prince of Loo,
With person large and high.
Lofty his front and suited to
The fine glance of his eye!
Swift are his feet. In archery
What man with him can vie?
With all these goodly qualities,
We see him and we sigh!
Renowned through all the land is he,
The nephew of our lord.
With clear and lovely eyes, his grace
May not be told by word.
All day at target practice,
He’ll never miss the
bird.
Such is the prince of Loo, and yet
With grief for him we’re
stirred!
All grace and beauty he displays,
High forehead and eyes bright.
And dancing choice! His arrows all
The target hit aright.
Straight through they go, and every one
Lights on the self-same spot.
Rebellion he could well withstand,
And yet we mourn his lot!
BOOK IX
THE ODES OF WEI
On the Misgovernment of the State