Kitabı oku: «Chinese Literature», sayfa 9

THE SHI-KING

[Metrical translation by James Legge]

INTRODUCTION

The wisdom of Confucius as a social reformer, as a teacher and guide of the Chinese people, is shown in many ways. He not only gave them a code of personal deportment, providing them with rules for the etiquette and ceremony of life, but he instilled into them that profound spirit of domestic piety which is one of the strongest features in the Chinese character. He took measures to secure also the intellectual cultivation of his followers, and his Five Canons contain all the most ancient works of Chinese literature, in the departments of poetry, history, philosophy, and legislation. The Shi-King is a collection of Chinese poetry made by Confucius himself. This great anthology consists of more than three hundred pieces, covering the whole range of Chinese lyric poetry, the oldest of which dates some eighteen centuries before Christ, while the latest of the selections must have been written at the beginning of the sixth century before Christ. These poems are of the highest interest, and even nowadays may be read with delight by Europeans. The ballad and the hymn are among the earliest forms of national poetry, and the contents of the Shi-King naturally show specimens of lyric poetry of this sort. We find there not only hymns, but also ballads of a really fine and spirited character. Sometimes the poems celebrate the common pursuits, occupations, and incidents of life. They rise to the exaltation of the epithalamium, or of the vintage song; at other times they deal with sentiment and human conduct, being in the highest degree sententious and epigrammatic. We must give the credit to Confucius of having saved for us the literature of China, and of having set his people an example in preserving the monuments of a remote antiquity. While the literatures of ancient Greece and Rome have largely perished in the convulsions that followed the breaking up of the Roman empire in Europe, when the kingdom of China fell into disorder and decrepitude this one great teacher stepped forward to save the precious record of historic fact, philosophical thought, and of legislation as well as poetry, from being swept away by the deluge of revolution. Confucius showed his wisdom by the high value he set upon the poetry of his native land, and his name must be set side by side with that of the astute tyrant of Athens who collected the poems of Homer and preserved them as a precious heritage to the Greek world. Confucius has given us his opinion with regard to the poems of the Shi-King. No man, he says, is worth speaking to who has not mastered the poems of an anthology, the perusal of which elevates the mind and purifies it from all corrupt thoughts. Thanks to the work of modern scholarship, English readers can now verify this dictum for themselves.

E. W.

THE SHI-KING

PART I—LESSONS FROM THE STATES

BOOK I
THE ODES OF CHOW AND THE SOUTH

~Celebrating the Virtue of King Wan's Bride~

 
  Hark! from the islet in the stream the voice
  Of the fish-hawks that o'er their nests rejoice!
  From them our thoughts to that young lady go,
  Modest and virtuous, loth herself to show.
  Where could be found to share our prince's state,
  So fair, so virtuous, and so fit a mate?
 
 
  See how the duckweed's stalks, or short or long,
  Sway left and right, as moves the current strong!
  So hard it was for him the maid to find!
  By day, by night, our prince with constant mind
  Sought for her long, but all his search was vain.
  Awake, asleep, he ever felt the pain
  Of longing thought, as when on restless bed,
  Tossing about, one turns his fevered head.
 
 
  Here long, there short, afloat the duckweed lies;
  But caught at last, we seize the longed-for prize.
  The maiden modest, virtuous, coy, is found;
  Strike every lute, and joyous welcome sound.
  Ours now, the duckweed from the stream we bear,
  And cook to use with other viands rare.
  He has the maiden, modest, virtuous, bright;
  Let bells and drums proclaim our great delight
 

~Celebrating the Industry of King Wan's Queen~

 
  Sweet was the scene. The spreading dolichos
  Extended far, down to the valley's depths,
  With leaves luxuriant. The orioles
  Fluttered around, and on the bushy trees
  In throngs collected—whence their pleasant notes
  Resounded far in richest melody.
 
 
  The spreading dolichos extended far,
  Covering the valley's sides, down to its depths,
  With leaves luxuriant and dense. I cut
  It down, then boiled, and from the fibres spun
  Of cloth, both fine and coarse, large store,
  To wear, unwearied of such simple dress.
 
 
  Now back to my old home, my parents dear
  To see, I go. The matron I have told,
  Who will announcement make. Meanwhile my clothes,
  My private clothes I wash, and rinse my robes.
  Which of them need be rinsed? and which need not?
  My parents dear to visit, back I go.
 

~In Praise of a Bride~

 
  Graceful and young the peach-tree stands;
    How rich its flowers, all gleaming bright!
  This bride to her new home repairs;
    Chamber and house she'll order right.
 
 
  Graceful and young the peach-tree stands;
    Large crops of fruit it soon will show.
  This bride to her new home repairs;
    Chamber and house her sway shall know.
 
 
  Graceful and young the peach-tree stands,
    Its foliage clustering green and full.
  This bride to her new home repairs;
    Her household will attest her rule.
 

~Celebrating T'ae-Sze's Freedom from Jealousy~

 
  In the South are the trees whose branches are bent,
  And droop in such fashion that o'er their extent
    All the dolichos' creepers fast cling.
  See our princely lady, from whom we have got
  Rejoicing that's endless! May her happy lot
    And her honors repose ever bring!
 
 
  In the South are the trees whose branches are bent,
  And droop in such fashion that o'er their extent
    All the dolichos' creepers are spread.
  See our princely lady, from whom we have got
  Rejoicing that's endless! Of her happy lot
    And her honors the greatness ne'er fade!
 
 
  In the South are the trees whose branches are bent,
  And droop in such fashion that o'er their extent
    All the dolichos' creepers entwine.
  See our princely lady, from whom we have got
  Rejoicing that's endless! May her happy lot
    And her honors complete ever shine!
 

~The Fruitfulness of the Locust~

 
  Ye locusts, wingčd tribes,
    Gather in concord fine;
  Well your descendants may
    In numerous bright hosts shine!
 
 
  Ye locusts, wingčd tribes,
    Your wings in flight resound;
  Well your descendants may
    In endless lines be found!
 
 
  Ye locusts, wingčd tribes,
    Together cluster strong;
  Well your descendants may
    In swarms forever throng!
 

~Lamenting the Absence of a Cherished Friend~

 
  Though small my basket, all my toil
    Filled it with mouse-ears but in part.
  I set it on the path, and sighed
    For the dear master of my heart.
 
 
  My steeds, o'er-tasked, their progress stayed,
    When midway up that rocky height.
  Give me a cup from that gilt vase—
    When shall this longing end in sight?
 
 
  To mount that lofty ridge I drove,
    Until my steeds all changed their hue.
  A cup from that rhinoceros's horn
    May help my longing to subdue.
 
 
  Striving to reach that flat-topped hill,
    My steeds, worn out, relaxed their strain;
  My driver also sank oppressed:—
    I'll never see my lord again!
 

~Celebrating the Goodness of the Descendants of King Wan~

 
  As the feet of the lin, which avoid each living thing,
  So our prince's noble sons no harm to men will bring.
                   They are the lin!
 
 
  As the front of the lin, never forward thrust in wrath,
  So our prince's noble grandsons of love tread the path.
                   They are the lin!
 
 
  As the horn of the lin, flesh-tipped, no wound to give,
  So our prince's noble kindred kindly with all live.
                   They are the lin!
 

[NOTE.—The "lin" is the female of "K'e"—a fabulous animal—the symbol of all goodness and benevolence; having the body of a deer, the tail of an ox, the hoofs of a horse, one horn, the scales of a fish, etc. Its feet do not tread on any living thing—not even on live grass; it does not butt with its forehead; and the end of its horn is covered with flesh—to show that, while able for war, it wills to have peace. The "lin" was supposed to appear inaugurating a golden age, but the poet finds a better auspice of that in the character of Wan's family and kindred.

~The Virtuous Manners of the Young Women~

 
  High and compressed, the Southern trees
    No shelter from the sun afford.
  The girls free ramble by the Han,
    But will not hear enticing word.
  Like the broad Han are they,
    Through which one cannot dive;
  And like the Keang's long stream,
    Wherewith no raft can strive.
 
 
  Many the fagots bound and piled;
    The thorns I'd hew still more to make.
  As brides, those girls their new homes seek;
    Their colts to feed I'd undertake.
  Like the broad Han are they,
    Through which one cannot dive;
  And like the Keang's long stream,
    Wherewith no raft can strive.
 
 
  Many the fagots bound and piled;
    The Southern-wood I'd cut for more.
  As brides, those girls their new homes seek;
    Food for their colts I'd bring large store.
  Like the broad Han are they,
    Through which one cannot dive;
  And like the Keang's long stream,
    Wherewith no raft can strive.
 

~Praise of a Rabbit-Catcher~

 
  Careful he sets his rabbit-nets all round;
 Chang-chang his blows upon the pegs resound.
  Stalwart the man and bold! his bearing all
  Shows he might be his prince's shield and wall.
 
 
  Careful he is his rabbit-nets to place
  Where many paths of rabbits' feet bear trace.
  Stalwart the man and bold! 'tis plain to see
  He to his prince companion good would be.
 
 
  Careful he is his rabbit-nets to spread,
  Where in the forest's depth the trees give shade.
  Stalwart the man and bold! fit his the part
  Guide to his prince to be, and faithful heart.
 

~The Song of the Plantain-Gatherers~

 
  We gather and gather the plantains;
    Come gather them anyhow.
  Yes, gather and gather the plantains,
    And here we have got them now.
 
 
  We gather and gather the plantains;
    Now off the ears we must tear.
  Yes, gather and gather the plantains,
    And now the seeds are laid bare.
 
 
  We gather and gather the plantains,
    The seeds in our skirts are placed.
  Yes, gather and gather the plantains.
    Ho! safe in the girdled waist!
 

~The Affection of the Wives on the Joo~

 
  Along the raised banks of the Joo,
    To hew slim stem and branch I wrought,
  My lord away, my husband true,
    Like hunger-pang my troubled thought!
 
 
  Along the raised banks of the Joo,
    Branch and fresh shoot confessed my art.
  I've seen my lord, my husband true,
    And still he folds me in his heart.
 
 
  As the toiled bream makes red its tail,
    Toil you, Sir, for the Royal House;
  Amidst its blazing fires, nor quail:—
    Your parents see you pay your vows.
 

BOOK II
THE ODES OF SHAOU AND THE SOUTH

~The Marriage of a Princess~

 
    In the magpie's nest
    Dwells the dove at rest.
  This young bride goes to her future home;
  To meet her a hundred chariots come.
 
 
    Of the magpie's nest
    Is the dove possessed.
  This bride goes to her new home to live;
  And escort a hundred chariots give.
 
 
    The nest magpie wove
    Now filled by the dove.
  This bride now takes to her home her way;
  And these numerous cars her state display.
 

~The Industry and Reverence of a Prince's Wife~

 
  Around the pools, the islets o'er,
    Fast she plucks white Southern-wood,
  To help the sacrificial store;
    And for our prince does service good.
 
 
  Where streams among the valleys shine,
    Of Southern-woods she plucks the white;
  And brings it to the sacred shrine,
    To aid our prince in solemn rite.
 
 
  In head-dress high, most reverent, she
    The temple seeks at early dawn.
  The service o'er, the head-dress see
    To her own chamber slow withdrawn.
 

~The Wife of Some Great Officer Bewails His Absence~

 
  Shrill chirp the insects in the grass;
    All about the hoppers spring.
  While I my husband do not see,
    Sorrow must my bosom wring.
      O to meet him!
      O to greet him!
    Then my heart would rest and sing.
 
 
  Ascending high that Southern hill,
    Turtle ferns I strove to get.
  While I my husband do not see,
    Sorrow must my heart beset.
      O to meet him!
      O to greet him!
    Then my heart would cease to fret.
 
 
  Ascending high that Southern hill,
    Spinous ferns I sought to find.
  While I my husband do not see,
    Rankles sorrow in my mind.
      O to meet him!
      O to greet him!
    In my heart would peace be shrined.
 

~The Diligence of the Young Wife of an Officer~

 
  She gathers fast the large duckweed,
    From valley stream that southward flows;
  And for the pondweed to the pools
    Left on the plains by floods she goes.
 
 
  The plants, when closed her toil, she puts
    In baskets round and baskets square.
  Then home she hies to cook her spoil,
    In pans and tripods ready there.
 
 
  In sacred chamber this she sets,
    Where the light falls down through the wall.
  'Tis she, our lord's young reverent wife,
    Who manages this service all.
 

~The Love of the People for the Duke of Shaou~

 
  O fell not that sweet pear-tree!
    See how its branches spread.
      Spoil not its shade,
      For Shaou's chief laid
    Beneath it his weary head.
 
 
  O clip not that sweet pear-tree!
    Each twig and leaflet spare.
      'Tis sacred now,
      Since the lord of Shaou,
    When weary, rested him there.
 
 
  O touch not that sweet pear-tree!
    Bend not a twig of it now.
      There long ago,
      As the stories show,
    Oft halted the chief of Shaou.
 

~The Easy Dignity of the Officers at Some Court~

 
  Arrayed in skins of lamb or sheep,
    With five silk braidings all of white,
  From court they go, to take their meal,
    All self-possessed, with spirits light.
 
 
  How on their skins of lamb or sheep
    The five seams wrought with white silk show!
  With easy steps, and self-possessed,
    From court to take their meal, they go.
 
 
  Upon their skins of lamb or sheep
    Shines the white silk the seams to link.
  With easy steps and self-possessed,
    They go from court to eat and drink.
 

~Anxiety of a Young Lady to Get Married~

 
  Ripe, the plums fall from the bough;
  Only seven-tenths left there now!
  Ye whose hearts on me are set,
  Now the time is fortunate!
 
 
  Ripe, the plums fall from the bough;
  Only three-tenths left there now!
  Ye who wish my love to gain,
  Will not now apply in vain!
 
 
  No more plums upon the bough!
  All are in my basket now!
  Ye who me with ardor seek,
  Need the word but freely speak!
 

BOOK III
THE ODES OF P'EI

~An Officer Bewails the Neglect with which He is Treated~

 
  It floats about, that boat of cypress wood,
    Now here, now there, as by the current borne.
  Nor rest nor sleep comes in my troubled mood;
    I suffer as when painful wound has torn
    The shrinking body. Thus I dwell forlorn,
  And aimless muse, my thoughts of sorrow full.
    I might with wine refresh my spirit worn;
  I might go forth, and, sauntering try to cool
  The fever of my heart; but grief holds sullen rule.
 
 
  My mind resembles not a mirror plate,
    Reflecting all the impressions it receives.
  The good I love, the bad regard with hate;
    I only cherish whom my heart believes.
    Colleagues I have, but yet my spirit grieves,
  That on their honor I cannot depend.
    I speak, but my complaint no influence leaves
  Upon their hearts; with mine no feelings blend;
  With me in anger they, and fierce disdain contend.
 
 
  My mind is fixed, and cannot, like a stone,
    Be turned at will indifferently about;
  And what I think, to that, and that alone,
    I utterance give, alike within, without;
    Nor can like mat be rolled and carried out.
  With dignity in presence of them all,
    My conduct marked, my goodness who shall scout?
  My foes I boldly challenge, great and small,
  If there be aught in me they can in question call.
 
 
  How full of trouble is my anxious heart!
    With hate the blatant herd of creatures mean
  Ceaseless pursue. Of their attacks the smart
    Keeps my mind in distress. Their venomed spleen
    Aye vents itself; and with insulting mien
  They vex my soul; and no one on my side
    A word will speak. Silent, alone, unseen,
  I think of my sad case; then opening wide
  My eyes, as if from sleep, I beat my breast, sore-tried.
 
 
  Thy disc, O sun, should ever be complete,
    While thine, O changing moon, doth wax and wane.
  But now our sun hath waned, weak and effete,
    And moons are ever full. My heart with pain
    Is firmly bound, and held in sorrow's chain,
  As to the body cleaves an unwashed dress.
    Silent I think of my sad case; in vain
  I try to find relief from my distress.
  Would I had wings to fly where ills no longer press!
 

~A Wife Deplores the Absence of Her Husband~

 
  Away the startled pheasant flies,
    With lazy movement of his wings.
  Borne was my heart's lord from my eyes;—
    What pain the separation brings!
 
 
  The pheasant, though no more in view,
    His cry, below, above, forth sends.
  Alas! my princely lord, 'tis you—
    Your absence, that my bosom rends.
 
 
  At sun and moon I sit and gaze,
    In converse with my troubled heart.
  Far, far from me my husband stays!
    When will he come to heal its smart?
 
 
  Ye princely men who with him mate,
    Say, mark ye not his virtuous way.
  His rule is—covet nought, none hate;—
    How can his steps from goodness stray?
 

~The Plaint of a Rejected Wife~

 
  The east wind gently blows,
    With cloudy skies and rain.
  'Twixt man and wife should ne'er be strife,
    But harmony obtain.
  Radish and mustard plants
    Are used, though some be poor;
  While my good name is free from blame,
    Don't thrust me from your door.
 
 
  I go along the road,
    Slow, with reluctant heart.
  Your escort lame to door but came,
    There glad from me to part.
  Sow-thistle, bitter called,
    As shepherd's purse is sweet;
  With your new mate you feast elate,
    As joyous brothers meet.
 

Part clear, the stream of King Is foul beside the Wei. You feast elate with your new mate, And take no heed of me. Loose mate, avoid my dam, Nor dare my basket move! Person slighted, life all blighted, What can the future prove?

 
  The water deep, in boat,
    Or raft-sustained, I'd go;
  And where the stream did narrow seem,
    I dived or breasted through.
  I labored to increase
    Our means, or great or small;
  When 'mong friends near death did appear,
    On knees to help I'd crawl.
 
 
  No cherishing you give,
    I'm hostile in your eyes.
  As pedler's wares for which none cares,
    My virtues you despise.
 
 
  When poverty was nigh,
   I strove our means to spare;
  You, now rich grown, me scorn to own;
   To poison me compare.
 
 
  The stores for winter piled
   Are all unprized in spring.
  So now, elate with your new mate,
   Myself away you fling.
  Your cool disdain for me
   A bitter anguish hath.
  The early time, our love's sweet prime,
   In you wakes only wrath.
 

~Soldiers of Wei Bewail Separation from Their Families~

 
  List to the thunder and roll of the drum!
    See how we spring and brandish the dart!
  Some raise Ts'aou's walls; some do field work at home;
    But we to the southward lonely depart.
 
 
  Our chief, Sun Tsze-chung, agreement has made,
    Our forces to join with Ch'in and with Sung.
  When shall we back from this service be led?
    Our hearts are all sad, our courage unstrung.
 
 
  Here we are halting, and there we delay;
    Anon we soon lose our high-mettled steeds.
  The forest's gloom makes our steps go astray;
    Each thicket of trees our searching misleads.
 
 
  For death as for life, at home or abroad,
    We pledged to our wives our faithfulest word.
  Their hands clasped in ours, together we vowed,
    We'd live to old age in sweetest accord.
 
 
  This march to the South can end but in ill;
    Oh! never shall we our wives again meet.
  The word that we pledged we cannot fulfil;
    Us home returning they never will greet.
 

~An Officer Tells of His Mean Employment~

 
  With mind indifferent, things I easy take;
  In every dance I prompt appearance make:—
  Then, when the sun is at his topmost height,
  There, in the place that courts the public sight.
 
 
  With figure large I in the courtyard dance,
  And the duke smiles, when he beholds me prance.
  A tiger's strength I have; the steeds swift bound;
  The reins as ribbons in my hands are found.
 
 
  See how I hold the flute in my left hand;
  In right the pheasant's plume, waved like a wand;
  With visage red, where rouge you think to trace,
  While the duke pleased, sends down the cup of grace!
 
 
  Hazel on hills; the ling in meadow damp;—
  Each has its place, while I'm a slighted scamp.
  My thoughts go back to th' early days of Chow,
  And muse upon its chiefs, not equalled now.
    O noble chiefs, who then the West adorned,
    Would ye have thus neglected me and scorned?
 

~An Officer Sets Forth His Hard Lot~

 
  My way leads forth by the gate on the north;
    My heart is full of woe.
  I hav'n't a cent, begged, stolen, or lent,
    And friends forget me so.
     So let it be! 'tis Heaven's decree.
     What can I say—a poor fellow like me?
 
 
  The King has his throne, sans sorrow or moan;
    On me fall all his cares,
  And when I come home, resolved not to roam,
    Each one indignant stares.
     So let it be! 'tis Heaven's decree.
     What can I say—a poor fellow like me?
 
 
  Each thing of the King, and the fate of the State,
    On me come more and more.
  And when, sad and worn, I come back forlorn,
    They thrust me from the door.
      So let it be! 'tis Heaven's decree.
      What can I say—a poor fellow like me?
 

~The Complaint of a Neglected Wife~

 
  When the upper robe is green,
  With a yellow lining seen,
  There we have a certain token,
  Right is wronged and order broken.
  How can sorrow from my heart
  In a case like this depart?
 
 
  Color green the robe displays;
  Lower garment yellow's blaze.
  Thus it is that favorite mean
  In the place of wife is seen.
  Vain the conflict with my grief;
  Memory denies relief.
 
 
  Yes, 'twas you the green who dyed,
  You who fed the favorite's pride.
  Anger rises in my heart,
  Pierces it as with a dart.
  But on ancient rules lean I,
  Lest to wrong my thoughts should fly.
 
 
  Fine or coarse, if thin the dress,
  Cold winds always cause distress.
  Hard my lot, my sorrow deep,
  But my thoughts in check I keep.
  Ancient story brings to mind
  Sufferers who were resigned.
 

[NOTE.—Yellow is one of the five "correct" colors of the Chinese, while green is one of the "intermediate" colors that are less esteemed. Here we have the yellow used merely as a lining to the green, or employed in the lower, or less honorable, part of the dress;—an inversion of propriety, and intimating how a favorite had usurped the place of the rightful wife and thrust her down.

~In Praise of a Maiden~

 
  O sweet maiden, so fair and retiring,
    At the corner I'm waiting for you;
  And I'm scratching my head, and inquiring
    What on earth it were best I should do.
 
 
  Oh! the maiden, so handsome and coy,
    For a pledge gave a slim rosy reed.
  Than the reed is she brighter, my joy;
    On her loveliness how my thoughts feed!
 
 
  In the pastures a t'e blade she sought,
    And she gave it, so elegant, rare.
  Oh! the grass does not dwell in my thought,
    But the donor, more elegant, fair.
 

~Discontent~

 
  As when the north winds keenly blow,
  And all around fast falls the snow,
  The source of pain and suffering great,
  So now it is in Wei's poor state.
  Let us join hands and haste away,
    My friends and lovers all.
  'Tis not a time will brook delay;
    Things for prompt action call.
 
 
  As when the north winds whistle shrill,
  And drifting snows each hollow fill,
  The source of pain and suffering great,
  So now it is in Wei's poor state,
  Let us join hands, and leave for aye,
    My friends and lovers all,
  'Tis not a time will brook delay;
    Things for prompt action call.
 
 
  We look for red, and foxes meet;
  For black, and crows our vision greet.
  The creatures, both of omen bad,
  Well suit the state of Wei so sad.
 
 
  Let us join hands and mount our cars,
    My friends and lovers all.
  No time remains for wordy jars;
    Things for prompt action call.
 

~Chwang Keang Bemoans Her Husband's Cruelty~

 
  Fierce is the wind and cold;
    And such is he.
  Smiling he looks, and bold
    Speaks mockingly.
  Scornful and lewd his words,
    Haughty his smile.
  Bound is my heart with cords
    In sorrow's coil.
 
 
  As cloud of dust wind-blown,
    Just such is he.
  Ready he seems to own,
    And come to me.
  But he comes not nor goes,
    Stands in his pride.
  Long, long, with painful throes,
    Grieved I abide.
 
 
  Strong blew the wind; the cloud
    Hastened away.
  Soon dark again, the shroud
    Covers the day.
  I wake, and sleep no more
    Visits my eyes.
  His course I sad deplore,
    With heavy sighs.
 
 
  Cloudy the sky, and dark;
    The thunders roll.
  Such outward signs well mark
    My troubled soul.
  I wake, and sleep no more
    Comes to give rest.
  His course I sad deplore,
    In anguished breast.
 

[NOTESelections from Books IV., V., and VI., have been omitted.—EDITOR.