BOOK VIII
THE DECADE OF TOO JIN SZE
In Praise of By-gone Simplicity
In the old capital they stood,
With yellow fox-furs plain,
Their manners all correct and good,
Speech free from vulgar stain.
Could we go back to Chow’s old days,
All would look up to them with praise.
In the old capital they wore
T’ae hats and
black caps small;
And ladies, who famed surnames bore,
Their own thick hair let fall.
Such simple ways are seen no more,
And the changed manners I deplore.
Ear-rings, made of plainest gold,
In the old days were worn.
Each lady of a noble line
A Yin or Keih seemed born.
Such officers and ladies now
I see not and my sorrows grow.
With graceful sweep their girdles fell,
Then in the days of old.
The ladies’ side-hair, with a swell,
Like scorpion’s tail,
rose bold.
Such, if I saw them in these days,
I’d follow with admiring gaze.
So hung their girdles, not for show;—
To their own length ’twas
due.
’Twas not by art their hair curled
so;—
By nature so it grew.
I seek such manners now in vain,
And pine for them with longing pain.
[NOTE.—Yin and Keih were clan names of great families, the ladies of which would be leaders of fashion in the capital.]
A Wife Bemoans Her Husband’s Absence
So full am I of anxious thought,
Though all the morn king-grass I’ve
sought,
To fill my arms I fail.
Like wisp all-tangled is my hair!
To wash it let me home repair.
My lord soon may I hail!
Though ’mong the indigo I’ve
wrought
The morning long; through anxious thought
My skirt’s filled but
in part.
Within five days he was to appear;
The sixth has come and he’s not
here.
Oh! how this racks my heart!
When here we dwelt in union sweet,
If the hunt called his eager feet,
His bow I cased for him.
Or if to fish he went away,
And would be absent all the day,
His line I put in trim.
What in his angling did he catch?
Well worth the time it was to watch
How bream and tench he took.
Men thronged upon the banks and gazed;
At bream and tench they looked amazed,
The triumphs of his hook.
The Earl of Shaou’s Work
As the young millet, by the genial rain
Enriched, shoots up luxuriant
and tall,
So, when we southward marched with toil
and pain,
The Earl of Shaou cheered
and inspired us all.
We pushed our barrows, and our burdens
bore;
We drove our wagons, and our
oxen led.
“The work once done, our labor there
is o’er,
And home we travel,”
to ourselves we said.