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Ebook has 556 lines and 27902 words, and 12 pages
He is held up as a pattern of loyalty by Chinese writers. His poetical compositions are ancient but not numerous.
LI LING .
Li Ling was a military commander in the Han Dynasty. Given command of an army in the war against the Hsiung-nu he rashly advanced into the enemy's country with only a few thousand soldiers, who were surrounded and all but three or four hundred killed, and Li Ling was captured, and spent the rest of his life in exile. His name is mentioned in the Introduction to this book of translations.
Chu Kwang-hi was a soldier of the T'ang Dynasty. He passed the highest literary examinations, and was appointed a member of the Censorate by the Emperor Hs?en Tsong.
CHEN TZE-ANG.
A celebrated scholar of the T'ang Dynasty. He filled various official offices, but is most famous for the work he did in advancing the renaissance of literature during the T'ang Dynasty. Wang Shih, a learned writer of the same period, said that Chen Tze-ang was the most famous scholar in the Empire of that time.
T'AO YUEN-MING .
T'ao T'sien was a scholar and poet of the Song Dynasty. He was appointed Magistrate of a district, but after filling the office only a short time he resigned it and retired into private life, spending the remainder of his years in writing poetry and in musical pursuits.
CHINESE POEMS
NAME OF POET UNKNOWN
Ah me, the day you left me Was full of weary hours; But the tree 'neath which we parted Was rich with leaves and flowers.
And from its fragrant branches I plucked a tiny spray, And hid it in my bosom In memory of that day.
I know the endless distance Must shut you from my view, But the flower's gentle fragrance Brings sweetest thoughts of you.
And, though it's but a trifle, Which none would prize for gain, It oft renews our parting, With all the love and pain.
BY CHANG POH-HS?
In Spring the flooded river meets the tide Which from the ocean surges to the land; The moon across the rolling water shines From wave to wave to reach the distant strand.
And when the heaving sea and river meet, The latter turns and floods the fragrant fields; While in the moon's pale light as shimmering sleet Alike seem sandy shores and wooded wealds.
For sky and river in one colour blend, Without a spot of dust to mar the scene; While in the heavens above the full-orbed moon In white and lustrous beauty hangs serene.
And men and women, as the fleeting years, Are born into this world and pass away; And still the river flows, the moon shines fair, And will their courses surely run for ay.
But who was he who first stood here and gazed Upon the river and the heavenly light? And when did moon and river first behold The solitary watcher in the night?
The maples sigh upon the river's bank, A white cloud drifts across the azure dome; In yonder boat some traveller sails to-night Beneath the moon which links his thoughts with home.
Above the home it seems to hover long, And peep through chinks within her chamber blind; The moon-borne message she cannot escape, Alas, the husband tarries far behind!
She looks across the gulf but hears no voice, Until her heart with longing leaps apace, And fain would she the silvery moonbeams follow Until they shine upon her loved one's face.
'Last night,' she murmured sadly to herself, 'I dreamt of falling flowers by shady ponds; My Spring, ah me! half through its course has sped, But you return not to your wedded bonds.'
For ever onward flows the mighty stream; The Spring, half gone, is gliding to its rest; While on the river and the silent pools The moonbeams fall obliquely from the west.
And now the moon descending to the verge Has disappeared beneath the sea-borne dew; While stretch the waters of the 'Siao and Siang', And rocks and cliffs, in never-ending view.
How many wanderers by to-night's pale moon Have met with those from whom so long apart:-- As on the shore midst flowerless trees I stand Thoughts old and new surge through my throbbing heart!
Two streams flowing into the Yangtze River.
BY PAO-CHAO
A thousand miles across the Dragon Mountains The North Wind blows the whirling flakes of snow, Until they gather on my terraced garden, And drift before the gate in furrowed row.
Unlike the coloured plum and fragrant peach trees, Whose buds stretch forth to greet the warm Spring days, At dawn the snow lies in unsullied whiteness, But flees to shelter from the sun's bright rays.
The peach flower and the plum flower have a beauty, Which flourish in the warmth of sun and shower; The snow's brief charm is purity and brightness, It does not claim the sun tints of the flower.
T'SIN DYNASTY, A.D. 265-419
The plum-tree's flower awakens Thoughts of my lover now, And I would pluck some blossoms And send to far Si-chow.
But such a distant region The flowers might never reach, While if I go in person, How great the joy to each!
I'll brush my glossy tresses, More dark than raven's plume; I'll wear my plum silk mantle, And banish tears and gloom.
But where, alack, is Si-chow? Far in the North, I know; Oh, when I've crossed the river I'll ask which way to go!
Ah me, the sun is setting, Si-chow is far away; The birds are homeward turning, I cannot start to-day.
I'll keep an evening vigil Beneath the cedar-tree That stands outside the porch-way; My love may come to me!
The jewels my hair adorning Are glistening with the dew; But still my lover tarries;-- What keeps him from my view?
A gentle breeze is blowing, The night is bright as day; I'll go and gather lilies, And meet him on the way.
In the early Autumn season The lotus lilies red Are in the south pool growing, And reach above my head.
My thoughts on old times musing, I stoop to pluck some seeds, In their shimmering greenness As water 'mongst the reeds.
I put some in my bosom, For the core is red as blood, As the heart of a true lover, When love is at the flood.
Pressed to my bosom closely-- No safer place, I wot, For tokens of betrothal; And yet my love comes not!
Above my head in batches The wild geese northward hie, And they will pass o'er Si-chow! Oh, would that I could fly!
I'll mount the northern turret; Perhaps from that lofty height I'll see my lover coming, The herald of the light.
Although the tower is lofty, I cannot see afar To where my love is dwelling, Beneath the Northern Star.
From morn until the evening-- How long the hours do seem!-- I've paced around the turret, As in a weary dream.
Once more I'll raise the curtain, And show my lamp's pale light; My love may miss the pathway, And wander in the night.
How lofty are the heavens! How vast the heaving sea! Ah, life is sad and dreary When love comes not to me!
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