Each with full team, the princes came,
A lengthened train in bright
array.
In gold-wrought slippers, knee-caps red,
They looked as on an audience
day.
Each right thumb wore the metal guard;
On the left arm its shield
was bound.
In unison the arrows flew;
The game lay piled upon the
ground.
The leaders of the tawny teams
Sped on their course, direct
and true.
The drivers perfect skill displayed;
Like blow well aimed each
arrow flew.
Neighing and pleased, the steeds returned;
The bannered lines back slowly came.
No jostling rude disgraced the crowd;
The king declined large share of game.
So did this famous hunt proceed!
So free it was from clamorous sound!
Well does our King become his place,
And high the deeds his reign have crowned!
The King’s Anxiety for His Morning Levee
How goes the night? For heavy morning
sleep
Ill suits the king who men would loyal
keep.
The courtyard, ruddy with the torch’s
light,
Proclaims unspent the deepest hour of
night.
Already near the gate my lords appear;
Their tinkling bells salute my wakeful
ear.
How goes the night? I may not slumber
on.
Although not yet the night is wholly gone,
The paling torch-light in the court below
Gives token that the hours swift-footed
go.
Already at the gate my lords appear;
Their tinkling bells with measured sound
draw near.
How goes the night? I may not slumber
now.
The darkness smiles with morning on its
brow.
The courtyard torch no more gives forth
its ray,
But heralds with its smoke the coming
day.
My princes pass the gate, and gather there;
I see their banners floating in the air.
Moral Lessons from Natural Facts
All true words fly, as from yon reedy
marsh
The crane rings o’er the wild its
screaming harsh.
Vainly you try reason in chains to keep;—
Freely it moves as fish sweeps through
the deep.
Hate follows love, as ’neath those
sandal-trees
The withered leaves the eager searcher
sees.
The hurtful ne’er without some good
was born;—
The stones that mar the hill will grind
the corn.
All true words spread, as from the marsh’s
eye
The crane’s sonorous note ascends
the sky.
Goodness throughout the widest sphere
abides,
As fish round isle and through the ocean
glides.
And lesser good near greater you shall
see,
As grows the paper shrub ’neath
sandal-tree.
And good emerges from what man condemns;—
Those stones that mar the hill will polish
gems.
BOOK IV
THE DECADE OF K’E-FOO
On the Completion of a Royal Palace