THE POET LI.
A FRAGMENT FROM THE CHINESE.
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BY MRS. CAROLINE. H. BUTLER, AUTHOR OF “RECOLLECTIONS OF CHINA,” “MAID OF CHE-KI-ANG,” ETC.
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PART I.
Do not draw upon you a person’s enmity, for enmity is never appeased—injury returns upon him who injures—and sharp words recoil against him who says them.
Chinese Proverb.
On the green and flowery banks of the beautiful Lake Tai-hoo, whose surface bears a thousand isles, resting like emeralds amid translucent pearl, dwelt Whanki the mother of Lí. The mother of Lí! Ah happy distinction—ah envied title! For where, far or near, was the name could rank with Lí on the scroll of learning—receiving even in childhood the title of the “Exiled Immortal,” from his skill in classic and historical lore!
Moreover, he was of a most beautiful countenance, while the antelope that fed among the hills was not more swift of foot. Who like Lí could draw such music from the seven silken strings of the Kin! or when with graceful touch his fingers swept the lute, adding thereto the well-skilled melody of his voice, youths and maidens opened their ears to listen, for wonderful was the ravishing harmony.