"Well," Pao-yü added, "I can't be looking after you! Whether good or bad, I'll write mine out too and have done."
As he spoke, he likewise drew up to the table and began putting his lines down.
"We'll now peruse the verses," Li Wan interposed, "and if by the time we've done, you haven't as yet handed up your papers, you'll have to be fined."
"Old farmer of Tao Hsiang," Pao-yü remarked, "you're not, it is true, a good hand at writing verses, but you can read well, and, what's more, you're the fairest of the lot; so you'd better adjudge the good and bad, and we'll submit to your judgment."
"Of course!" responded the party with one voice.
In due course, therefore, she first read T'an Ch'un's draft. It ran as follows:—
Verses on the Begonia.
What time the sun's rays slant, and the grass waxeth cold, close the
double doors.
After a shower of rain, green moss plenteously covers the whole pot.
Beauteous is jade, but yet with thee in purity it cannot ever vie.
Thy frame, spotless as snow, from admiration easy robs me of my wits
Thy fragrant core is like unto a dot, so full of grace, so delicate!
When the moon reacheth the third watch, thy comely shade begins to
show itself.
Do not tell me that a chaste fairy like thee can take wings and pass
away.
How lovely are thy charms, when in thy company at dusk I sing my lay!
After she had read them aloud, one and all sang their praise for a time.
She then took up Pao-ch'ai's, which consisted of:
If thou would'st careful tend those fragrant lovely flowers, close of
a day the doors,
And with thine own hands take the can and sprinkle water o'er the
mossy pots.
Red, as if with cosmetic washed, are the shadows in autumn on the
steps.
Their crystal snowy bloom invites the dew on their spirits to heap
itself.
Their extreme whiteness mostly shows that they're more comely than all
other flowers.
When much they grieve, how can their jade-like form lack the traces of
tears?
Would'st thou the god of those white flowers repay? then purity
need'st thou observe.
In silence plunges their fine bloom, now that once more day yields to
dusk.