A popular poet of the ninth century was Li Shê, especially well known for the story of his capture by highwaymen. The chief knew him by name and called for a sample of his art, eliciting the following lines, which immediately secured his release:—
“The rainy mist sweeps gently o’er the village by the stream,
When from the leafy forest glades the brigand daggers gleam....
And yet there is no need to fear, nor step from out their way,
For more than half the world consists of bigger rogues than they!”
A popular physician in great request, as well as a poet, was Ma Tzŭ-Jan (d. A.D. 880). He studied Taoism in a hostile sense, as would appear from the following poem by him; nevertheless, according to tradition, he was ultimately taken up to heaven alive:—
“In youth I went to study Tao at its living fountain-head,
And then lay tipsy half the day upon a gilded bed.
‘What oaf is this,’ the Master cried, ‘content with human lot?’
And bade me to the world get back and call myself a sot.
But wherefore seek immortal life by means of wondrous pills?
Noise is not in the market-place, nor quiet on the hills.
The secret of perpetual youth is already known to me:
Accept with philosophic calm whatever fate may be.”
Hsü An-chên, of the ninth century, is entitled to a place among the T‘ang poets, if only for the following piece:—
“When the Bear athwart was lying,
And the night was just on dying,
And the moon was all but gone,
How my thoughts did ramble on!
“Then a sound of music breaks
From a lute that some one wakes,
And I know that it is she,
The sweet maid next door to me.
“And as the strains steal o’er me
Her moth-eyebrows rise before me,
And I feel a gentle thrill
That her fingers must be chill.
“But doors and locks between us
So effectually screen us
That I hasten from the street
And in dreamland pray to meet.”
The following lines by Tu Ch‘in-niang, a poetess of the ninth century, are included in a collection of 300 gems of the T‘ang dynasty:—