Part 4

The wayworn traveller pauses near the gate, From which he sallied forth so long ago; Unconscious then of what Fate held in store-- The years of separation, loss, and woe.

The neighbours press around the garden fence, And gaze with mouth agape, or quietly sigh; While wife and children awestruck, rigid stand, And then tears flow and to his arms they fly.

'For years on revolution's waves I've tossed, While wife and bairns mourned me in hopeless plight; And now to-night, as in a dream, I sit With all my loved ones 'neath the lamp's bright light.'

_The Pleasures of a Simple Life with Nature_

BY LI-SHANG-YIN

T'ANG DYNASTY

On these pleasant hills residing, Far from worldly din and strife, Leisurely with nature living, Here I pass a happy life.

Gently wave the bamboo copses, Fanned by evening breezes light; While the flowers and moon-beams mingle In the ghostly hours of night.

Through ravines the waters gurgle, Stemmed by scattered rock and stone; Round the bends the footpath wanders-- By the mosses overgrown.

Here with friends and habits simple, And a cup of generous wine, Fingering lute and old songs singing-- For no other heaven I pine.

_Listening to the Playing on a Lute in a Boat_

BY SU-SHIH

In my boat I sat alone, And the hours were fast in flight, When the sound of music broke The stillness of the night.

Sighing winds through fir-trees swept, Falling cascades murmured low, As the master touched his lute-- So lovingly and slow.

Clutching fast my lapelled coat, Rapture swayed me without bounds, As with every nerve intent, I listened to the sounds.

Yet again I longed to hear Ancient chimes on jadestone bell, Drawn forth by the Master's hand From lute he loved so well.

Since the days of Chen and Wei,[39] When confusion filled the land, Music rare of ancient style Has found but scant demand.

Times and instruments alike, For a thousand years and more, Silent and forgotten lay, And few the loss deplore!

One alone--the priceless lute-- Change and storm and wreck survives, Watching nations rise and wane, As god of mortal lives.

Music old is now decried, Light songs and ditties sought, Strains insipid, jerky turns, Light and crispy wrought.

Instruments of wood remain, Void of human feelings sweet, Which the soul of ancient song Never more may greet.

Peaceful is the river now, Moon-beams play upon the scene, From the ceaseless din of life Night provides a pleasant screen.

In the silence of this hour, Will you, Master, yet once more, Wen-wang's[40] melodies revive, As in the days of yore?

[39] The Wei and Ch'en Dynasties.

[40] Duke Chang, the virtual founder of the Chow Dynasty; Wen Wang being his posthumous title. His son, Prince Wu, was the first ruler of the Chow Dynasty.

_Reflections on the Past_[41]

THIS IS ONLY ONE SECTION OF A LONG POEM BY TAO TSIEN.

The sun went down and cloudless came the night, A gentle zephyr breathed through moonlit skies; And bevies of fair women thronged the Court, The beauty of the starlight in their eyes.

With wine and singing swiftly flew the hours Until the herald of the dawn appeared; But when the music and the rapture ceased, Deep sighs were heard and weird forebodings feared.

Such beauty even in the Halls of T'sin As on this fateful night was seldom seen,-- A lustrous moon in fleecy clouds it shines! A splendid flower amidst the foliage green!

How fair the groups of revellers--fair the scene! But pleasures such as these must pass away! How keen the raptures of those fleeting hours! What of the burdens of the coming day?

[41] This poem probably refers to the revelries of the Court at the end of the T'sin Dynasty 300-200 B.C., before it was overthrown by the founder of the Han Dynasty.

_A Lowly Flower_

BY BAY SIE T'IAO

T'ANG DYNASTY

A flowering grass I rise From the side of a far-spread lake, Whose waters lave and fertilize, And all my thirsty tissues slake.

The dews of Spring with gentle power Evolve my glossy emerald leaves; The colours of my fragrant flower The rime of early Autumn weaves.

And yet in trembling fear I grow, Lest root and stem should be uptorn By sudden storm or rushing flow, And leave me helpless and forlorn.

So here contented will I lie, Although a plant of humble birth; Nor try to soar to realms on high Above the confines of the earth.

For never yet has living soul By strength or wisdom changed his fate; All things are under heaven's control, Who allocates to each his state.

_On returning to a Country Life_

BY TAO TSIEN

My youth was spent amidst the simple charms Of country scenes--secure from worldly din, And then, alas! I fell into the net Of public life, and struggled long therein.

The captive bird laments its forest home; The fish in tanks think of the sea's broad strands; And I oft longed, amidst official cares, To till a settler's plot in sunny lands.

And now I have my plot of fifteen 'mow',[42] With house thereon of rustic build and thatch; The elm and willow cast a grateful shade, While plum-and peach-trees fill the entrance patch.

Away from busy towns and dusty marts, The dog barks in the silent country lane; While chickens cluck among the mulberry-trees, And life is healthy and the mind is sane.

Here in my house--with room for friend or two, On my own farm--won from the barren plain, Escaped from cares of office and routine, I live a free and natural life again.

[42] A Chinese acre, a measure of land equal to about one-fifth of an English acre.

_The Brevity of Life_

POET UNKNOWN: HAN DYNASTY, OR EARLIER

Our years on earth are brief, But few a hundred win; A thousand years of grief Are packed therein.

The day quick takes its flight, The dark is sad and long; Then let us cheer the night With feast and song.

The niggard thinks it wise To save and live by rule; But sages may arise To call him fool!

_Conscripts leaving for the Frontier_[43]

BY TU-FU

T'ANG DYNASTY

Chariots rumbling; horses neighing; Soldiers shouting martial cries; Drums are sounding; trumpets braying; Seas of glittering spears arise.

On each warrior's back are hanging Deadly arrows, mighty bows; Pipes are blowing, gongs are clanging, On they march in serried rows.

Age-bowed parents, sons and daughters Crowd beside in motley bands; Here one stumbles, there one falters Through the clouds of blinding sands.

Wives and mothers sometimes clinging To their loved ones in the ranks, Or in grief their bodies flinging On the dusty crowded flanks.

Mothers', wives', and children's weeping Rises sad above the din,-- Through the clouds to Heaven creeping-- Justice begging for their kin.

'To what region are they going?' Asks a stranger passing by; 'To the Yellow River, flowing Through the desert bare and dry!

'Forced conscription daily snapping Ties which bind us to our clan; Forced conscription slowly sapping All the manhood of the Han.'

And the old man went on speaking To the stranger from afar: ''Tis the Emperor, glory seeking, Drives them 'neath his baleful star.

'Guarding river; guarding passes On the frontier, wild and drear; Fighting foes in savage masses-- Scant of mercy, void of fear.

'Proclamations, without pity, Rain upon us day by day, Till from village, town, and city All our men are called away.

'Called away to swell the flowing Of the streams of human blood, Where the bitter north wind blowing Petrifies the ghastly flood.

'Guarding passes through the mountains, Guarding rivers in the plain; While in sleep, in youth's clear fountain, Scenes of home come back again.

'But, alas! the dream is leaded With the morn's recurring grief, Only few return--grey-headed-- To their homes, for days too brief.

'For the Emperor, still unheeding Starving homes and lands untilled, On his fatuous course proceeding, Swears his camps shall be refilled.

'Hence new levies are demanded, And the war goes on apace, Emperor and foemen banded In the slaughter of the race.

'All the region is denuded Of its men and hardy boys, Only women left, deluded Of life's promise and its joys.

'Yet the prefects clamour loudly That the taxes must be paid,-- Ride about and hector proudly! How can gold from stones be made?

'Levy after levy driven, Treated more like dogs than men, Over mountains, tempest riven, Through the salty desert fen.

'There by Hun and Tartar harried-- Ever fighting, night or day; Wounded, left to die, or carried Far from kith and kin away.

'Better bring forth daughters only Than male children doomed to death, Slaughtered in the desert lonely, Frozen by the north wind's breath.

'Where their bodies, left unburied, Strew the plain from west to east, While above in legions serried Vultures hasten to the feast.

'Brave men's bones on desert bleaching, Far away from home and love, Spirits of the dead beseeching Justice from the heaven above.'

[43] This poem is an attempt to describe the miseries of the people under compulsory military service during the long wars carried on by the Emperor Hsüen-Tsung of the Han Dynasty.

_Estimating the Value of a Wife_

UNKNOWN: ANCIENT

Once upon a time a husband, weary Of the selfsame face before him day by day, Determined to dismiss his goodwife promptly, And take a new one--to her great dismay!

Without delay the little deal was settled,-- The husband on his purpose being bent,-- The new wife through the front door entered grandly, The old one from a side-door sadly went.

One day the old wife to her home returning From gathering wild flowers on the mountain side, Met with her quondam master in the valley, And, kneeling, asked him how the new one vied.

'The new wife', said the husband very slowly, 'Has beauty that is equal to your own, But still her hands are not so deft and useful, Nor can she compass so much work alone.

'The new wife's hands are very skilled in weaving Embroidered satins with her dainty touch; The old wife's fingers, faster and unwearied, Of useful fabrics weave five times as much.

'So when I reckon up the charms and uses Of goodwives, number One and number Two, There's little room within my mind for doubting, I had the better bargain when I'd you.'

_The Lady Lo-Fu_

HAN DYNASTY, OR EARLIER

On a bright and sunny morning, From her mother's house there came, One who needed no adorning,-- Lo-Fu was the lady's name.

On her arm a basket swinging, Made of silk her own hand weaves, Forth she wanders blithely singing, Bent on gathering mulberry leaves.

From her head in graceful tresses Falls the fine and lustrous hair, While each shapely ear caresses Just one pearl of beauty rare.

Purple bodice, broidered quaintly, Silken skirt with amber lace, Gave the touch demure and saintly To her sweetly winsome face.

Travellers dropped the loads they carried, And in wonder stroked their chin; Young men, whether free or married, Doffed their hats a glance to win.

Farmers stay their hand in ploughing, Peasants stand as in a dream, Now and then the trees allowing Of the girl a passing gleam.

On this morn an Envoy passing, From a mission to the sea, Where much wealth he'd been amassing, Saw Lo-Fu beneath a tree.

For her silkworms food providing, Work she did with greatest zest; All her friends around residing Owned her silk was of the best.

Near the tree the Envoy stopping With his escort in array, Soldiers boughs of mulberries lopping Helped to make a fine display.

From his retinue emerging Came the Envoy's trusty man, Who his master's message urging, Gently asked her name and clan.

'Lo-Fu,' came the answer proudly, 'Of the ancient house of T'sin!' Adding, too, a little loudly, 'And my age is seventeen.'

'Will you join me?' asked the Envoy, 'Sharing all my wealth and power, All the treasures of this convoy Would not far exceed your dower!'

'You have a wife,' she answered coldly, 'And most foolish are, I fear; I,' she added firm and boldly, 'Also have a husband dear.

'And my husband is the leader Of a thousand horsemen brave, Midst whom not one base seceder Would another captain crave!

'On his charger, white and fiery, 'Mongst the troop he's first espied, Soldier-like, erect and wiry, With his keen sword by his side.

'When but fifteen he enlisted Without patronage or fame, And at twenty, unassisted, Officer at Court became.

'Then at thirty, unexpected, Captain in the Royal Clan; Now at forty he's selected Chief commandant of Ch'ang-an.

'Gallant, but of gentle bearing, When the battle's fought and won, For the praise of men less caring Than the meed for duty done.

'Yes, a clear-eyed, clean-souled hero Is the man I'm praising now, And your value sinks to zero When compared with his, I vow.

'True, a lowly work I'm doing, And the silk we use I spin, But remember you are wooing Lo-Fu of the House of T'sin.'[44]

[44] The ancient State of T'sin, which finally embraced the whole of Shen-si and Kansuh. In 221 B.C. this State under Shi Hwang Ti subdued all China, and thereafter the ruling sovereigns are known as the T'sin Dynasty.

_An Autumn Evening in the Garden_

BY LI YI

The Summer's gone, but summer heat remains, And sleepless nights still leave us all repining; So to the garden I have moved my couch, And on it I am peacefully reclining.

The white clouds spread themselves across the sky, And through the rifts the moon's soft light is falling On dewy grass and flowers and trees around, While from the towers night birds are faintly calling.

The gentle rustling of the tall bamboos In subtle symphony of tone is blending With the waters of the fountain and the brook, Which flow and murmur on their ways unending.

While through the gauzy garments which I wear The cooling evening breeze is gently blowing, My feeling of contentment is more deep Than when I'm where the ruby wine is flowing.

_Muh-Lan_[45]

Muh-Lan's swift fingers flying to and fro Crossed warp with woof in deft and even row, As by the side of spinning-wheel and loom She sat at work without the women's room.[46] But tho' her hand the shuttle swiftly plies The whir cannot be heard for Muh-Lan's sighs; When neighbours asked what ills such mood had wrought, And why she worked in all-absorbing thought; She answered not, for in her ears did ring The summons of last evening from the King, Calling to arms more warriors for the west, The name of Muh-Lan's father heading all the rest. But he was ill--no son to take his place, Excuses meant suspicion and disgrace; Her father's honour must not be in doubt; Nor friend, nor foe, his stainless name shall flout; She would herself his duty undertake And fight the Northern foe for honour's sake. Her purpose fixed, the plan was soon evolved, But none should know it, this she was resolved; Alone, unknown, she would the danger face, Relying on the prowess of her race. A charger here, a saddle there, she bought, And next a bridle and a whip she sought; With these equipped she donned the soldier's gear, Arming herself with bow and glittering spear. And then before the sun began his journey steep She kissed her parents in their troubled sleep, Caressing them with fingers soft and light, She quietly passed from their unconscious sight; And mounting horse she with her comrades rode Into the night to meet what fate forbode; And as her secret not a comrade knew, Her fears soon vanished as the morning dew. That day they galloped westward fast and far, Nor paused until they saw the evening star; Then by the Yellow River's rushing flood They stopped to rest and cool their fevered blood. The turbid stream swept on with swirl and foam Dispelling Muh-Lan's dreams of friends and home; Muh-Lan! Muh-Lan! she heard her mother cry-- The waters roared and thundered in reply! Muh-Lan! Muh-Lan! she heard her father sigh-- The river surged in angry billows by! The second night they reach the River Black, And on the range which feeds it, bivouac; Muh-Lan! Muh-Lan! she hears her father pray-- While on the ridge the Tartars' horses neigh; Muh-Lan! Muh-Lan! her mother's lips let fall! The Tartars' camp sends forth a bugle call! The morning dawns on men in armed array Aware that death may meet them on that day; The Winter sun sends forth a pallid light Through frosty air on knights in armour bright; While bows strung tight, and spears in glittering rows, Forebode the struggle of contending foes. And soon the trumpets blare--the fight's begun; A deadly _mêlée_--and the Pass is won! The war went on, and many a battle-field Revealed Muh-Lan both bow and spear could wield; Her skill and courage won her widespread fame, And comrades praised, and leaders of great name. Then after several years of march and strife, Muh-Lan and others, who had 'scaped with life From fields of victory drenched with patriots' blood, Returned again to see the land they loved. And when at last the Capital[47] was reached, The warriors, who so many forts had breached, Were summoned to the presence of the King, And courtiers many did their praises sing; Money and presents on them, too, were showered, And some with rank and office were empowered; While Muh-Lan, singled out from all the rest, Was offered fief and guerdon of the best. But gifts and honours she would gladly lose If she might only be allowed to choose Some courier camels, strong and fleet of pace, To bear her swiftly to her native place.

* * * * *

And now, at last, the journey nears the end, And father's, mother's voices quickly blend In--'Muh-Lan, Muh-Lan! welcome, welcome, dear!' And this time there was naught but joy to fear. Her younger sisters decked the house with flowers, And loving words fell sweet as summer showers; Her little brother shouted Muh-Lan's praise, For many proud and happy boastful days! The greetings o'er, she slipped into her room-- Radiant with country flowers in fragrant bloom-- And changed her soldier's garb for woman's dress: Her head adorned with simple maiden's tress-- A single flower enriched her lustrous hair-- And forth she came, fresh, maidenly, and fair! Some comrades in the war had now come in, Who durst not mingle in the happy din; But there in awe and admiration stood, As brave men do before true womanhood; For not the boldest there had ever dreamed, On toilsome march, or when swords flashed and gleamed In marshalled battle, or on sudden raid, That their brave comrade was a beauteous maid.

[45] Muh-Lan was a famous heroine of the Liang Dynasty (A.D. 502-556) who, when her father was summoned to serve as a soldier in the wars on the north-western frontier, and was unable to obey the order on account of sickness, put on a soldier's dress and took his place in the army for several years. She fought in many battles, winning great praise for her bravery, and ever since she has been regarded as the ideal of daughterly devotion and feminine courage.

[46] In the porch of the women's apartment.

[47] The capital of China at that time was Chang-an, now Si-an-Fu the provincial capital of Shen-si.

_The Old Fisherman_

BY LUH FANG-WEN

T'ANG DYNASTY

While wandering up the river-side alone To view the landscape of my new-found home, Away from cities and the haunts of men Where I midst nature's scenes can quietly roam,

I came upon a fisher's lonely hut Ensconced within a winding of the stream, And in a boat the fisherman himself; While on his sail the sunlight sent a gleam.

Across the river stands a stately mountain Which wandering artists oft have tried to paint, But none could seize the subtle blend of colours-- Of purple blues and rose-dawn flushes faint.

Alas! the fisherman through summers many, Has gazed upon the glory of this scene, And yet his mind's unwakened to its beauty, His hand unskilled to limn its tints and sheen.

And my hand, too, alas! has lost its cunning And cannot serve my brain as in my youth, So men will lose another glorious picture Of Nature with her beauty and her truth.

_Midnight in the Garden_

BY LIU TSONG-YUEN

T'ANG DYNASTY (ANCIENT STYLE)

The midnight hours were passing And sleep still past me flew; My mind--so keenly working-- Could hear the dropping dew.

So from my bed arising I open wide the door-- The western park revealing, And hills that heavenward soar.

Across the Eastern ranges The clear moon coldly shines On bamboos, loosely scattered, And trailing mountain vines.

And so intense the stillness, That from the distant hills I hear the pigeons cooing, And murmuring streams and rills.

For hours I have been thinking, As in a silent dream, And now beyond the mountains I see the dawn's first gleam.

_Reflections on the Brevity of Life_

POET'S NAME UNKNOWN: HAN DYNASTY OR EARLIER (206 B.C.-220 A.D.)

We sought the city by the Eastern gate, Our chariot moving at a leisured rate, Along the road on which the sunlight weaves The trembling of the willow's rustling leaves.

And far away are pine-trees towering high, Beneath whose shade the graves of heroes lie; In Hades now their last long sleep they take, From which a mortal never more shall wake.

How vast the gulf between the quick and dead! Yet as the morning dew our life is sped; The rocks and hills enduring strength retain, But mortals pass in fast and endless train.

Alas! the sages are inert to trace Beyond the grave the future of our race; Alchemic nostrums, too, are used in vain, They cannot turn life's ills to endless gain.

Then let us drain the goblet while we live, And take the best the fleeting hour can give. In life a little pleasure may be won, To-morrow we must die and there'll be none.

_So-fei gathering Flowers_

BY WANG CHANG-LING

In a dress of gauzy fabric Of the 'Lien' leaf's emerald hue So-fei glides amongst the lilies Sprinkled with the morning dew.

Rose-hued are the lotus-blossoms, Rose-hued, too, the maiden's cheeks; Is it So-fei's form I follow, Or the flowers she seeks?

Now I hear a song arising From the lotus bowers, Which distinguishes the maiden From her sister flowers.

_A Farewell_[48]

BY LI TAI-PEH