THE SHE KING; OR, THE BOOK OF ANCIENT POETRY

218 THE BOOK OF POETRY. [PART II.
Hate follows love, as 'neath those sandal trees
The withered leaves the eager searcher sees.
The hurtful ne'er without some good was born ;—
The stones that mar the hill will grind the corn.
2 All true words spread, as from the marsh's eye
The crane's sonorous note ascends the sky.
Goodness throughout the widest sphere abides,
As fish round isle and through the ocean glides.
And lesser good near greater you shall see,
As grows the paper shrub 'neath sandal tree.
And good emerges from what man condemns ;—
Those stones that mar the hill will polish gems.
BK IV. i.] THE BOOK OF POETET. 219
BOOK IV.
THE DECADE OF KfE-FOO.
I.
THE K'e-foo ; narrative. THE SOLDIERS OF THE KOTAL GUARD
COMPLAIN OF THE SEEVICE IMPOSED ON THEM BY THE MIMSIEB OF
WAK.
This piece is to be referred to the concluding years of Seuen's reign,
when both his character and administration had deteriorated. In his
39th year, B.C. 788, his army had sustained a great defeat from some of
the northern tribes, which he made preparations to avenge in the follow
ing year. The regular levies for such a service being insufficient, he or
dered his Own guards, it is supposed, to join the force for the north ; and
we have in the piece their complaint at being called to a duty which did
not belong to them ; — directed nominally against the minister of War,
but really against the king.
1 Hear, minister of War, the charge we bring !
We are the teeth and talons of the king ;
Close to his person is our place.
Why have you sent us to this homeless life,
Where far froni court we roam, 'mid miseries rife ?
Why are we doomed to this disgrace ?
2 Hear, minister of War, the accusing word !
We are the taloned soldiers of our lord,
And near his person should have rest.
But you from court have sent us far away,
Where ceaselessly we toil from day to day,
By constant misery oppressed.
3 Hear, minister of War, whose erring deed
Has paid our valour with a sorry meed,
When we should near the court reside.
Why have you sent us far to suffer grief,
And leave our mothers longing for relief,
With all their cooking labours tried ?