THE SHE KING; OR, THE BOOK OF ANCIENT POETRY

2G6 THE BOOK OF POETET. [PAET II.
selves. The defeated competitors had to drink a cup of spirits as a
penalty.
In st. 2, the writer evidently had in view the seasonal sacrifices to an
cestors. What he describes took place, I suppose, as the proper business
of the sacrifice was being completed.
1 When to the mats the guests draw near,
Good order they observe.
Some moving to the left appear,
While to the right some swerve.
In rows the dishes stand arrayed;—
Of wood and bamboo featly made.
Sauces and kernels in them shine;
And tempered well the spirits fine :—
The guests with reverence taste.
Now are the drums and bells set up ;
And round the circle goes the cup,
Without unseemly jest.
The royal target then they rear,
And bows and arrows soon appear,
Made ready for the game.
On different sides the archers stand;
And one, his weapons in his hand,
Calls out another's name.
" Now shoot," he says, " and show your skill."
The other answers, " Shoot I will,
And hit the mark;—and when you miss,
Give you the penal cup to kiss."
2 The drums loud sound, the organ swells;
Their flutes the dancers wave.
The other instruments and bells
' Join in the concert grave.
Thus with our music blends the dance,
The solemn service to enhance,
Which to our sires is paid.
When rites, the greatest and the least,
Have been performed to grace the feast,
Then to our king 'tis said,
" Blessings on you your sires bestow."
With joy his sons and grandsons glow;
They feel inspired to show their care,
And reverently themselves to bear.
VII. VI.] THE BOOK OF POETET.
The guests then come, in order led
-By him. who is their chief and head.
With those who represent the dead
They drink in reverent style.
Attendants wait their cups to fill,
But order rules 'midst their good will.
Our cups are only drunk to cheer;
Our temple services are clear
From all excesses vile.
3 When to the mats the guests approach,
Mild harmony holds rule.
These dare not upon those encroach,
And no one plays the fool.
So long as in due bounds they keep,
Discreetly they behave;
But when those bounds they overleap,
Then where are they,—so grave ?
They leave the mats, and prance about;
They caper round and round.
Their caution all is put to rout;
Their wits fall to the ground.
Anon as still more drunk they grow.,
On rudeness they are set.
The cups their reason overthrow,
And they themselves forget.
4 Yes, when the guests have drunk too much,
They shout aloud and brawl.
The dishes get no gentle touch;
Disorder fills the hall.
They dance about, now fast, now slow,
Can hardly keep their feet.
What fools they are they do not know;
No one resumes his seat.
Each cap, awry, will hardly stay
Upon the giddy head ;
But they keep on in madness' way,
And no exposure dread.
If, when their wits began to reel,
They left the room at once,
Both host and guests would happier feel,
Nor know the sad mischance.
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