The Generous Nephew

  I escorted my uncle to Tsin,
    Till the Wei we crossed on the way. 
      Then I gave as I left
      For his carriage a gift
  Four steeds, and each steed was a bay.

  I escorted my uncle to Tsin,
    And I thought of him much in my heart. 
      Pendent stones, and with them
     Of fine jasper a gem,
  I gave, and then saw him depart.

BOOK XII

THE ODES OF CH’IN

The Contentment of a Poor Recluse

My only door some pieces of crossed wood,
  Within it I can rest enjoy. 
I drink the water wimpling from the spring;
  Nor hunger can my peace destroy.

Purged from ambition’s aims I say, “For fish. 
  We need not bream caught in the Ho;
Nor, to possess the sweets of love, require
  To Ts’e, to find a Keang, to go.

“The man contented with his lot, a meal
  Of fish without Ho carp can make;
Nor needs, to rest in his domestic joy,
  A Tsze of Sung as wife to take.”

The Disappointed Lover

Where grow the willows near the eastern gate,
  And ’neath their leafy shade we could recline,
She said at evening she would me await,
  And brightly now I see the day-star shine!

Here where the willows near the eastern gate
  Grow, and their dense leaves make a shady gloom,
She said at evening she would me await. 
  See now the morning star the sky illume!

A Love-Song

The moon comes forth, bright in the sky;
A lovelier sight to draw my eye
  Is she, that lady fair. 
She round my heart has fixed love’s chain,
But all my longings are in vain. 
  ’Tis hard the grief to bear.

The moon comes forth, a splendid sight;
More winning far that lady bright,
  Object of my desire! 
Deep-seated is my anxious grief;
In vain I seek to find relief;
  While glows the secret fire.

The rising moon shines mild and fair;
More bright is she, whose beauty rare
  My heart with longing fills. 
With eager wish I pine in vain;
O for relief from constant pain,
  Which through my bosom thrills!

The Lament of a Lover

There where its shores the marsh surround,
Rushes and lotus plants abound. 
Their loveliness brings to my mind
The lovelier one that I would find. 
In vain I try to ease the smart
Of wounded love that wrings my heart. 
In waking thought and nightly dreams,
From every pore the water streams.

All round the marsh’s shores are seen
Valerian flowers and rushes green. 
But lovelier is that Beauty rare,
Handsome and large, and tall and fair,
I wish and long to call her mine,
Doomed with the longing still to pine. 
Nor day nor night e’er brings relief;
My inmost heart is full of grief.