"Good! good!" cried the listeners.
Some of the princes repeated the last line, shaking their heads with satisfaction.
Several other quatrains were read; then the Kisaki repeated hers:—
"THE SNOW.
"The sky is clear; the bees hum o'er the garden beds;
A balmy breeze blows through the trees;
It makes the plum-blossoms fall in showers.
How delightful is the spring snow!"
"You are the master of us all!" was the enthusiastic shout. "What are our verses beside yours!"
"Our great poet, Tsourai-Iouki,[1] never wrote a more perfect poem than that," said the Prince of Nagato.
"It was from that poet I drew my inspiration," said the Kisaki, smiling with pleasure. "But it is your turn to read, Iwakura," she continued, glancing at the Prince.
Nagato opened his fan and read:—
"THE WILLOW.
"The thing which we love more than all else, we prefer that no one
else should love.
It belongs to another.
So the willow, which takes root in our garden,
Bends, blown by the wind, and adorns our neighbor's wall with
its branches."
"The illustrious Tikangue[2] might be your brother," said the Kisaki; "there is no quatrain in his works superior to that. I wish to preserve the fan that your hand has illustrated; give it to me, I beg."