Editorial Reviews. About the Author. Launcelot Cranmer-Byng ( - ). No other Originals Amazon Original Series and Movies .. Shangshu: Bilingual Edition, Chinese and English 尚書: Chinese Classic. Book of Confucius (Kong Zi).
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- Wisdom of the East (John Murray) - Book Series List
- Book of odes (Shi-King) : the classics of Confucius
- BOOK OF ODES
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There is sufficient to make the spirits glad, to offer to the shades of our fathers, and yield whatever the rites require ; sufficiency for the kings and nobles to give mighty banquets, when at the fragrant feast both host and guest sit down together ; there is enough when the feast is over to satisfy the aged poor and cheer them with a never- ending abundance.
Not now alone, but from all time and in all lands, the earth repays a thousand- fold to those who toil. What joyousness is here!
Wisdom of the East (John Murray) - Book Series List
What scenes of peace and simple festival of family love and delight in the land! Again some officer in the days of good King Wan, galloping along a clear road on the king's service, hammers out the splendid galloping song, called " King's Messenger," in the present book, to the beat of his galloping horses' hoofs. No such poem was elaborated in garden or grove where the poets clustered, and drank, and sang. It comes straight from the heart of this nameless envoy of old, fiercely exulting in his own untiring energy and in the mettle of his splendid steeds.
How many of these poems declare the joys of work bravely attempted bravely done! These little sagas of blood and brain can teach us more of life than all the threadbare 9 moralities which serve as poetry in the modern day. How modern they are! As long as youth with its sublime folly will wait all night for the tryst that is never kept, these poems, the earliest collection of secular songs we know, will remain fresh and charm us to the end.
These old writers, viewing nature at first hand and not through the medium of any books, wrote faithfully of what they felt and saw. Very gently the river glides along through the plain, which it makes beautiful with the long canal formed by its waters. To the south rise great mountains in the shape of an amphitheatre, while, on the further bank, reeds and pines, covered with a never-fading verdure, invite the fresh breath of the cooling winds. Never is the voice of discord heard among you. What glory shall be yours! The prince, whose heritage you are, hath chosen you for his abode.
Already is the plan of his palace formed ; proud walls arise, and grand terraces are building on the east and west. Haste to come, great prince! O haste to come ; sports and pleasure wait upon thy coming. The solid foundations, which are now being laid with redoubled strokes of the hammer, display thy wisdom. Neither rains nor storms shall ever prevail against them.
Never shall the insect which creeps or walks penetrate thy habitation. The guard who watches is sometimes surprised, the 10 swiftest dart may err, the frightened pigeon forgets the use of its wings, and the pheasant with difficulty flies before the eagle ; but before thee every obstacle vanishes.
With what majesty do these colonnades rear their fronts! How immense are those halls! Lofty columns support the ceiling, the brightness of the day illuminates them and pene- trates them on all sides. It is here that my prince reposes ; it is here that he sleeps, upon long mats woven with great art. Some lady of the harem of King Wan praises the queen, who is never jealous of the inferior wives, but cherishes them as some great tree cherishes the creepers that gather round it.
Again, "the ripe plums are falling from the bough; only seven-tenths of them remain! If any desire to marry me, now has the fortunate time arrived! Many of these odes are undoubtedly the work of women. Besides, most ii young Chinese girls whose parents are well off are taught to read. Perhaps the great importance of the odes, first grasped by Confucius, and afterwards by the whole of China, lies in the fact that they are no mere abstract creations of an imaginative brain.
Each one of these nameless poets writes about himself or herself; their sorrows, their aspirations, their out- look on their own times, contented or gloomy, are all chronicled herein. In the official odes we see the feudal princes coming to town to greet their sovereign lord.
- Do Your Giving While You Are Living: Inspirational Lessons on What You Can Do Today to Make a Differ.
- The Pretty Girl Milking Her Cow;
- The Book of Odes: Title Page;
The state-carriages with their four- horse teams have gone to greet them. What gifts has the king to bestow on those he delights to honour? Bring forth the dark-coloured robes embroidered with the dragon, and the silken skirts with the hatchet design upon them. See, they are coming, you may tell by the dragon flags that wave before them coming, by the hwuy-hwuy sound of the bells that reaches us. By the bright red buskins that cover the knees we know them. These are the princes! No great poetry to be sure!
These are just the natural song's that float upward from the happy valleys and down the sedge-strewn banks of the wandering K'e. Above all, they are naive and bright as on their birthday, with that most precious quality of truth and unconscious art which never lets them tarnish or fade. The king is very wicked! The poor groom of the Chamber to His Majesty gives vent to his sorrow in song. He lets you know all about it. The royal naughtiness stands clearly revealed, not by any calico-tearing epithets such as a modern poet affrights the ears of a Sultan with, but just a gentle bland admonishment, a little dirge of political desolation and the knell of a falling dynasty.
I have put, or tried to put, these poems back into poetry. Four of these pieces have been exquisitely rendered by my friend Mr Allen Upward, and speak for themselves. The time has come when the literary man should stand forth and claim his share in the revela- tion of truth and beauty from other lands and peoples whom our invincible European ignorance has taught us to despise. You came I smiled, Love reconciled, You said, " By taper reed and tortoise-shell, I have divined, and all, O love, is well.
Avoid the dark fruit rife With sorrow to thy life. And thou, whose fence Is innocence, Seek no sweet pleasuring with any youth! For when a man hath sinned, but little shame Is fastened to his name, Yet erring woman wears the garb of ruth. When the lone mulberry tree With leaves bestrews the lea, They yellow slowly, slowly down From green to gold, from gold to brown. Three sombre years ago I fled with you, and lo, The floods of K'e Now silently Creep to the curtains of my little car. Through cloud and gloom I was your constant star; Now you have gone from sight, And love's white star roams aimleis through the night.
Early and late, I was your mate, Bearing the burdens that were yours to share. Fain of the little love that was my lot, Ah, kinsmen scorn me not! How should ye know when silence chills despair? Old we should grow in accord, Old and grief is my lord. Between her banks the K'e doth steer, And pine-woods ring the lonely mere. In pleasant times I bound My dark hair to the sound Of whispered vows 'Neath lilac boughs, And little recked o'er broken faith to weep.
Now the grey shadows o'er the marshland creep: The willows stir and fret: Galloping, galloping, piebald steed ; Six reins, silken reins, start and strain, Galloping, galloping, still we speed, News what news from the King's domain.
- Full text of "The odes of Confucius".
- The Book of Odes.
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Galloping, galloping, white and black ; Six reins glossy and flaked with foam, Galloping, galloping, look not back! On for the King for the King we roam. Galloping, galloping, dappled grey ; Six reins true to the hand alone, Galloping, galloping, night and day, Seeking, questioning, galloping, gone! You who gave me your heart Let us join hands and depart! Is this a time for delay? Now, while we may, Let us away. Wailingly the north wind goes, Wailing through a whirl of snows. Only the lonely fox is red, Black but the crow-flight overhead. You who gave me your heart, The chariot creaks to depart, Is this a time for delay?
In crowds the zealous builders went, The walls began to rise. The King was in the wondrous park, The does so sleek and brown Lay couched in fern ; from dawn to dark White birds came glistening down ; The King was by the pond whose waters hold A thousand carp with ruddy scales of gold. Upon his posts the fretted board Is hung with drums and bells ; What music chimes from their accord, What sound of laughter swells From the pavilion of the circling pool Where joy and Wan, the brother monarchs, rule What harmony of bells and drums! What call of drums and bells! Beyond the flaming water comes What sound of happy spells.
The blind musicians blind us with delight ; While the deep lizard drums roll on till night.
Two youths into their boats descend, Two lives go drifting far from me ; Between the willow glooms I see Death lurking at the river's bend. Give heed to no man's slander. The noisy blue flies rumble round, Upon the gum-trees lighting ; A tongue of evil hath no bound, And sets the realm a-fighting. The clumsy blue flies buzzing round Upon the hazels blunder ; O cursed tongue that knows no bound, And sets us two asunder.
Man of the cold far-piercing eye, but I long for you, Right for you, wrong for you, Naught could keep us apart, But the cold eye reading my heart. When the great carriage rumbles on, In robes of state carnation red 1 see the man of dread, Bright gleaming robes and glance of stone, O then I long for you, Right for you, wrong for you, Naught could keep us apart But the cold eye reading my heart.
Together we may never bide, Nor you and me one roof contain, But death shall not divide ; The same close grave shall wed the twain. I will hold to you, By the bright sun I swear, O my life, my love, my despair. All night long in dream I lie, Ah me! Cold from the spring the rising flood Covers the tangled southernwood. Cold from its source the stream meanders, Darkly down through the oleanders. Let me not say, " It is too high above," Above us and below us doth it move, And daily watches wheresoe'er we are. It is but as a little child I ask, Without intelligence to do my task, Yet learning, month by month, and day by day, I will hold fast some gleams of knowledge bright.
Help me to bear my heavy burden right, And show me how to walk in wisdom's way. High loneliness And sorrow are my portion. Thou great Father, Thou kingly pattern of parental awe, Whose mind for ever in the courts beheld, Roaming, the royal image of thy sire, Night long and day long, I the little child Will so be reverent. O ye great kings!
Your crowned successor crowns you in his heart. Here, upon the verge Of the momentous years, I pause and trace The shining footsteps of my forefathers, And the far-distant goal that drew them on Too distant for my range. Howe'er resolved I may go forward, lo! A little child Only a little child I am too frail To cope with the anxieties of state And cares of king-craft. Yet I will ascend Into my Father's room, and through the courts Below, for ever seeking, I will pass, To brush the skirts of inspiration And touch the sleeves of memory.
O great And gracious Father, hear and condescend To guard, to cherish, to enlighten me. With sweet thoughts natural to spring, A pretty girl goes wandering With lover that would lead astray. The little dwarf oaks hide a leafy dell, Far in the wilds there lies a dead gazelle ; The tall white grass enwraps her where she fell, And beauty, like a gem, doth fling Bright radiance through the blinds of spring.
Nor make the watch-dog bark Under my lattice dark. Ah, He'a Nan, Sleep brings me no relief: My heart is full of grief. By the shores of that lagoon, Where the drowsy lotus lies, Where the tall valerians rise Brighter than the orbed moon, Shines He'a Nan. Ah, He'a Nan, I turn and turn all night, And dawn brings no respite. She in rough silk and kerchief blue Gave me the only joy I knew.
Book of odes (Shi-King) : the classics of Confucius
I wandered by the curtain tower, Like flowering rushes were the maids ; Although they match the rushes' flower, Soon from my mind their beauty fades. In humble silk and madder dye, She fills my heart with ecstasy. There is no rest for me, None for my tired feet ; Give me to drink and eat, Do what is best for me. Order an ambulance car, And carry me, carry me on. There is that little oriole At rest where the mound doth bend ; Oh, but I know no fear Save if the march will end.
There is that little oriole At rest on the hillock grey ; Oh, but I know no fear Save that I fall by the way. He has builded his hut in the bend of the mound, This fellow so fine with his satisfied air ; He wakes and he sings with no neighbour around, And whatever betide him his home will be there. He dwells on a height amid cloudland and rain, This fellow so grand whom the world blunders by ; He slumbers alone, wakes, and slumbers again, And his secrets are safe in that valley of Wei.
This shade-bestowing pear-tree, thou Hurt not, nor break one leafy bough ; Beneath it stayed the Duke of Shaou. This shade-bestowing pear-tree, thou Hurt not, nor bend one leafy bough ; Beneath it paused the Duke of Shaou. In their States they have high renown, Of the city of Chow they are never tiring, And the rivers of night wind darkly down Past the towers of their fame still aspiring. Down by the eastern gate The willow-thicket pales ; From dusk to dawn I wait, Till the last red lantern fails, And the morning star is shining.
To left the Ts'euen waters roam, The K'e flows on to right, Ah! Leftward the Ts'euen stream beguiles, And rightward calls the K'e, Return, O light of happy smiles And girdle-gems, to me!
BOOK OF ODES
The princes all are coming to court, And where shall their gifts be found? The coaches of state and their teams go by, What more for my lords have I? Dark coloured robes with a dragon fine, And silken skirts with the hatchet sign. Clear bubbles the spring, bubbles the spring, Around they gather the cress: The princes all are coming to court, Their banners the winds caress. The dragon flag in the breezes swells, To the hivuy-hwuy sound of the bells. You may have already requested this item.
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