“A gentle rain after long drought,
Meeting an old friend in a foreign clime,
The joys of the wedding-day,
One’s name on the list of successful candidates.”
The above lines occur à propos of nothing in particular, and are closely followed in some editions by more precepts on the subject of earnest application. Then after reading that the Classics are the best fields to cultivate, we come upon four lines with a dash of real poetry in them:—
“Man in his youth-time’s rosy glow,
The pink peach flowering in the glade....
Why, yearly, when spring breezes blow,
Does each one flush a deeper shade?”
More injunctions to burn the midnight oil are again strangely followed by a suggestion that three cups of wine induce serenity of mind, and that if a man is but dead drunk, all his cares disappear, which is only another way of saying that
“The best of life is but intoxication.”
Altogether, this poem is clearly a patchwork, of which some parts may have come from Hsieh Chin’s pen. Here is a short poem of his in defence of official venality, about which there is no doubt:—
“In vain hands bent on sacrifice
or clasped in prayer we see;
The ways of God are not exactly
what those ways should be.
The swindler and the ruffian
lead pleasant lives enough,
While judgments overtake the good
and many a sharp rebuff.
The swaggering bully stalks along
as blithely as you please,
While those who never miss their prayers
are martyrs to disease.
And if great God Almighty fails
to keep the balance true,
What can we hope that paltry
mortal magistrates will do?”
The writer came to a tragic end. By supporting the claim of the eldest prince to be named heir apparent, he made a lasting enemy of another son, who succeeded in getting him banished on one charge, and then imprisoned on a further charge. After four years’ confinement he was made drunk, probably without much difficulty, and was buried under a heap of snow.