A Hundred and Seventy Chinese Poems. Various Authors

these often erroneous renderings must go to Mademoiselle Gautier herself.

      4. Anna von Bemhardi, in "Mitteil d. Seminar f. Orient. Sprachen," 1912, 1915, and 1916. Two articles of Tao Ch'ien and one on Li Po. All valuable, though not free from mistakes.

      5. Zottoli, "Cursus Litteraturae Sinicae." 1886. Chinese text with Latin translation. Vol. V deals with poetry. None of the poems is earlier than T'ang. The Latin is seldom intelligible without reference to the Chinese. Translators have obviously used ​Zottoli as a text. Out of eighteen Sung poems in Giles's book, sixteen will be found in Zottoli.

      6. A. Pfizmaier, two articles [1886 and 1887] on Po Chü-i in "Denkschr. d. Kais. Ak. in Wien." So full of mistakes as to be of very little value, except in so far as they served to call the attention of the European reader to this poet.

      7. L. Woitsch, "Aus den Gedichten Po Chü-i's." 1908. 76 pp. A prose rendering with Chinese text of about forty poems, not very well selected. The translations, though inaccurate, are a great advance on Pfizmaier.

      8. E. von Zachs, "Lexicographische Beiträge." Vols, ii and iv. Re-translation of two poems previously mistranslated by Pfizmaier.

      9. S. Imbault-Huart, "La Poésie Chinoise du 14 au 19 siècle." 1886. 93 pp.

      10. S. Imbault-Huart, "Un Poète Chinois du 18 Siècle." (Yüan Mei.) Journ. of China Branch, Royal As. Soc., N.S., vol. xix, part 2, 42 pp.

      11. S. Imbault-Huart, "Poésies Modernes." 1892. 46 pp.

      12. A. Forke, "Blüthen Chinesischer Dichtung." 1899. Rhymed versions of Li Po and pre-T'ang poems.

      A fuller bibliography will be found in Cordier's "Bibliotheca Sinica."

      Battle

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      CHAPTER ONE

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      ​BATTLE

      By Ch'ü Yüan [332–295 B. C.], author of the famous poem "Li Sao," or "Falling into Trouble." Finding that he could not influence the conduct of his prince, he drowned himself in the river Mi-lo. The modern Dragon Boat Festival is supposed to be in his honour.

      "We grasp our battle-spears: we don our breast-plates of hide.

       The axles of our chariots touch: our short swords meet.

       Standards obscure the sun: the foe roll up like clouds.

       Arrows fall thick: the warriors press forward.

       They menace our ranks: they break our line.

       The left-hand trace-horse is dead: the one on the right is smitten.

       The fallen horses block our wheels: they impede the yoke-horses!"

       They grasp their jade drum-sticks: they beat the sounding drums.

       Heaven decrees their fall: the dread Powers are angry.

       The warriors are all dead: they lie on the moor-field.

       They issued but shall not enter: they went but shall not return.

       The plains are flat and wide; the way home is long.

       Their swords lie beside them: their black bows, in their hand.

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      Though their limbs were torn, their hearts could not be repressed.

They were more than brave: they were inspired with the spirit of "Wu."^[1] Steadfast to the end, they could not be daunted. Their bodies were stricken, but their souls have taken Immortality — Captains among the ghosts, heroes among the dead.

      1 ↑ I.e., military genius.

      The Man-Wind and the Woman-Wind

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      For other English-language translations of this work, see Rhapsody on the Wind.

      ​THE MAN-WIND AND THE WOMAN-WIND

      A "fu," or prose-poem, by Sung Yü [fourth century B. C.], nephew of Ch'ü Yuan.

      Hsiang, king of Ch'u, was feasting in the Orchid-tower Palace, with Sung Yü and Ching Ch'ai to wait upon him. A gust of wind blew in and the king bared his breast to meet it, saying: "How pleasant a thing is this wind which I share with the common people." Sung Yü answered: "This is the Great King's wind. The common people cannot share it." The king said: "Wind is a spirit of Heaven and Earth. It comes wide spread and does not choose between noble and base or between high and low. How can you say 'This is the king's wind'?" Sung answered: "I have heard it taught that in the crooked lemon-tree birds make their nests and to empty spaces winds fly. But the wind-spirit that comes to different things is not the same." The king said: "Where is the wind born?" and Sung answered: "The wind is born in the ground. It rises in the extremities of the green p'ing-flower. It pours into the river-valleys and rages at the mouth of the pass. It follows the rolling flanks of Mount T'ai and dances beneath the pine-trees and cypresses. In gusty bouts it whirls. It rushes in fiery anger. It rumbles low with a noise like thunder, tearing down rocks and trees, smiting forests and grasses.

      ​"But at last abating, it spreads abroad, seeks empty places and crosses the threshold of rooms. And so growing gentler and clearer, it changes and is dispersed and dies.

      "It is this cool clear Man-Wind that, freeing itself, falls and rises till it climbs the high walls of the Castle and enters the gardens of the Inner Palace. It bends the flowers and leaves with its breath. It wanders among the osmanthus and pepper-trees. It lingers over the fretted face of the pond, to steal the soul of the hibiscus. It touches the willow leaves and scatters the fragrant herbs. Then it pauses in the courtyard and turning to the North goes up to the Jade Hall, shakes the hanging curtains and lightly passes into the inner room.

      "And so it becomes the Great King's wind.

      "Now such a wind is fresh and sweet to breathe and its gentle murmuring cures the diseases of men, blows away the stupor of wine, sharpens sight and hearing and refreshes the body. This is what is called the Great King's wind."

      The king said: "You have well described it. Now tell me of the common people's wind." Sung said: "The common people's wind rises from narrow lanes and streets, carrying clouds of dust. Rushing to empty spaces it attacks the gateway, scatters the dust-heap, sends the cinders flying, pokes among foul and rotting things, till at last it enters the tiled windows and reaches the rooms of the cottage. Now this wind is heavy and turgid, oppressing man's heart It brings fever to his body, ulcers to his lips and dimness to his eyes. It shakes him with coughing; it kills him before his time.

      "Such is the Woman-wind of the common people."