THE SHE KING; OR, THE BOOK OF ANCIENT POETRY

76 THE BOOK OF POETRY. [PART I.
BOOK HI.
THE ODES OF PfEI.
OF P'ei which gives its name to this Book, and of Tung which gives
its name to the next, we hardly knojr anything. Long before the time of
Confucius, they had become incorporated with the State of Wei ; and it is
universally acknowledged that the odes of Books iii., iv., and v. are odes
of Wei. Why they should he divided into three parts, two of which are
assigned to P'ei and Yung respectively, is a question which has baffled all
the critics.
When king Woo overthrew the dynasty of Shang, the domain of its
kings was divided by him into three portions. That north of their capi
ta] was P'ei ; that south of it was Yung ; and that east of it was Wei.
These were constituted into three principalities ; but who among his ad
herents were invested with P'ei and Yung has not been clearly ascertained.
The marquises of Wei, however, managed in course of time to add them
to their own territory.
The first marquis of Wei was K'ang-shuh, a brother of Woo, of whose
investiture we have an account in the Book of History. The first capital
of the State was on the north of the Ho, to the east of Ch'aou-ko, the old
capital of Shang. There it continued till B.C. 659, when the State was
nearly extinguished by some northern hordes, and duke Tae removed
across the river to Ts'aou ; but in a couple of years, his successor, duke
Wan, removed again to Ts'oo-K'ew,—in the present district of Shing-woo,
department of Ts'aou-chow, Shan-tung.
I,
The Pih climv ; mostly narrative. AN OFFICES OF WORTH BEWAILS
THE NEGLECT AKD CONTEMPT WITH WHICH HE WAS TREATED. ,
Such is the view taken of the piece by Maou, who refers it to the time
of duke K'ing, B.C. 866—854. Choo He contends against him that we
have in it the complaint of Chwang Keang, the wife of one of the mar
quises of Wei, because of the neglect with which she was treated by her
husband. Mencius, however, VII. ii. XIX., sanctions the view of the
piece which regards it as the complaint of a worthy officer, neglected by
his ruler, and treated with contempt by a host of mean creatures.
1 It floats about, that boat of cypress wood,
Now here, now there, as by the current borne.
Nor rest nor sleep comes in my troubled mood;
I suffer as when painful wound has torn
The shrinking body. Thus I dwell forlorn,
BE III. i.] THE BOOK OF POETRY. 77
And aimless muse, my thoughts of sorrow full.
I might with wine refresh my spirit worn;
I might go forth, and, sauntering try to cool
The fever of my heart; but grief holds sullen rule.
2 My mind resembles not a mirror plate,
Reflecting all th' impressions it receives.
The good I love, the bad regard with hate;
I only cherish whom my heart believes.
Colleagues I have, but yet my spirit grieves,
That on their honour I cannot depend.
I speak, but my complaint no influence leaves
Upon their hearts; with mine no feelings blend;
With me in anger they, and fierce disdain contend.
3 My mind is fixed, and cannot, like a stone,
Be turned at will indifferently abont;
And what I think, to that, and that alone,
I utterance give, alike within, without;
Nor can like mat be rolled and carried out.
With dignity, in presence of them all,
My conduct marked, my goodness who shall scout ?
My foes I boldly challenge, great and small,
If there be aught in me they can in question call.
4 How full of trouble is my anxious heart!
With hate the blatant herd of creatures mean
Ceaseless pursue. Of their attacks the smart
Keeps my mind iu distress. Their venomed spleen
Aye vents itself; and with insulting mien
They vex my soul; and no one on my side
A word will speak. Silent, alone, unseen,
I think of my sad case; then opening wide
My eyes, as if from sleep, I beat my breast, sore-tried.
5 Thy disk, 0 sun, should ever be complete,
While thine, 0 changing moon, doth wax and wane.
But now our sun hath waned, weak and effete,
And moons are ever full. My heart with pain
Is firmly bonnd, and held in sorrow's chain,
As to the body cleaves an unwashed dress.
Silent I think of my sad case; in vain
I try to find relief from my distress.
Would I had wings to fly where ills no longer press!