2.
Survey, survey Gi Shoi’s murmuring flood!
How its bamboos with living green are gay;
Survey the great, illustrious and good—
How sculptur’d, polish’d and refin’d are they!
What elegance and majesty they bear!
What witchery lurketh in their voice and eyes;
View them but once, and whilst thou breath’st the air
Thou’lt ne’er forget the great, the good and wise.
Survey, survey Gi Shoi’s murmuring flood!
How its bamboos uptower in green array;
The bonnets of the great, the wise and good
At either ear an agate gem display;
Bright as a star the crownlet of their hair—
What witchery lurketh in their voice and eyes;
Survey them once, and whilst thou breath’st the air
Thou’lt ne’er forget the great, the good and wise.
Survey, survey Gi Shoi’s murmuring flood!
Like to the green bamboos upon it’s shore
Are the illustrious, the great and good—
More pure than gold, more soft than stannine ore;
The round imperial agate’s not more sheen;
Ever magnanimous and constant found,
On glory’s car they sit with placid mien,
And smile benign where jocund sports abound.
THE MOUNTAIN-CHASE.
From the Mandchou or Chinese Tartar.
(An extract from the “Description of Moukden” by the Emperor Kian Loung.)
Autumn has fled and winter left our bounds;
Now for the chase amongst the mountain grounds,
Our troops their implements and arms prepare.
Like colour’d rainbow see our banners glare;
While paler far and like the waning bow,
Rustle the standards in the winds that blow;
Piercing the mists, above our heads that lower,
Aloft behold our stately Toron [{21}] tower,
Flapping the skies with its embroider’d rim.
Away we journey, hale in mind and limb;
Our cars of state are creaking in the rear,
Whilst in the front the active guides appear.
And now our children mount their colts of speed,
Their sculptur’d cars full little here they need;
From the right side they take the arrow keen,
Ne’er to its quiver to return, I ween;
The bow, the left side’s fitting ornament;
The bow, the tough and pliant bow is bent;
It yields a sound, like thunder from afar,
While flies the arrow, like a streaming star.
None now expects a tale of fabled might;
Wang Liyang’s [{22}] bridle will no more delight;
Nor how his chariot Siyan Ou did guide;
Nor how, incas’d in hauberk’s steely pride,
His hundred myriads, at the cymbals’ sound,
The falcon launch’d, or slipp’d the eager hound;
Or giving rein to every fiery steed
No more precipitous Tai Shan would heed,
Than stair which leadeth to some upper bower;
Or swarming down tumultuous to the shore,
Chain’d the sea-waters with the nets they cast—
For such wild miracles the time is past.
Numerous and brilliant spreads our hunting train,
Stilly or noisily the aim is ta’en,
Forth the shaft speedeth all athirst for blood,
Whilst the string rattleth sharp against the wood;
The stags we scatter, in the plain which browse,
Or from his cavern the rough boar uprouse;
We scare the bokoin to the highest steeps,
Hunt down the hare, along the plain which leaps.
But though we slaughter, nor the work resign
When stiff and wearied are each hand and spine,
On field and mountain still the beasts are spied
Plenteous as grasses in the summer tide;
As at three points the fierce attack I ply,
Seeing what numbers still remain to die,
Captains, pick’d captains I with speed despatch,
Who by the tail the spotted leopard catch,
Crash to the brain the furious tiger’s head,
Grapple the bear so powerful and dread,
The ancient sow, the desert’s haunter, slay—
Whilst with applause their prowess we survey.