Part 15 (2/2)
In depths of night it seems the human soul Its sway o'er other things has lost control; I and my shadow play upon the strand That marks the boundary of the silent land.
We watch the secret tides in noiseless work, Forming new isles where earthworms safely lurk; And on the moon--a monstrous pearl--we gaze, Looming through willow-trees in silver haze.
Amidst our life of changing grief and woe, A glimpse of purer worlds will come and go, As on this lake when nature's holy power Speaks to us in the dark and silent hour.
But hark, the c.o.c.k crows; rings the temple bell!
And birds awake in mountain, plain, and dell; The guards.h.i.+p beats its drum, the boats unmoor, While din and shouting on the hearer pour.
_The Fishermen's Song_
PRIZE POEM, BY CHENG-CHENG
T'SING DYNASTY
The sun is sinking in the west, Bidding the fishermen think of rest.
'To-day,' they cry, 'no need to search, The people rush to buy our perch; Of sh.e.l.l-fish, too, we are bereft, We've scarcely half a basket left!'
And at the piles of silver bright They laugh, and shout, 'Good wine to-night!'
'We'll with the village wits combine And drink our fill of ”Luh-e”[65] wine; Then if we feel inclined to roam, The fisher-boys shall lead us home.'
So off they go to the evening meal, And 'Luh-e' wine is drunk with zeal; And after draining every gla.s.s, They doff the fishers' coat of gra.s.s, And with wild shouts a net they seize And rush out in the evening breeze, Intent on catching the mirrored moon, Bright in the sea as the sun at noon.
Tricked by the moon to their hearts' content, Sh.o.r.eward they move on music bent; The pipes of Pan, and flutes, come out, Wine and music have a fine bout; Voices and instruments combined Soon leave no discord undefined!
After the shouting and the din Even fishermen had to turn in; So spreading their sails in a sandy cave, And soothed by the sound of the lapping wave, Tired and languorous the reveller yields To sleep, and dreams of Elysian fields!
[65] 'Luh-e,' the name of a famous wine.
_The Students' Ramble_[66]
BY LU-TEH
T'SING DYNASTY
No longer could the blue-robed students cling To essay, or angle, or such like thing; The white-fleeced sky in depths of sapphire blue, The mother-earth, in Spring's bewitching hue, Enticed them forth to ponder fresher lore, And gather strength from nature's boundless store, So leaving college desk, and book, and file, They tramp the green-robed country--mile on mile; But resting oft within some shady nook, By side of mountain rill or babbling brook.
The voice of streams, the sweet air after showers On new-mown gra.s.s, and earth, and fragrant flowers; The depths of s.p.a.ce, the everlasting hills; The unseen power that moves, and guides, and stills All animated nature's varied life And law reveals where all seemed useless strife-- Their sense enthralled, and coursing with their blood Through every vein in strong impetuous flood-- Divine and human, on this radiant day, Seemed nearer kin than even when we pray In marble temples to the unknown G.o.d, Or wayside fanes, by common people trod.
But homeward now reluctantly they turn, Yet incense still to nature would they burn; So as they wind through woods of pine-trees tall, By willow-bordered streams where catkins fall, Their pent-up feelings, buried deep and long, Find voice in cla.s.sic chants from ancient song.
As chorus sweet, and solo clear and rare, Are wafted softly on the evening air, The water-fowl on village ponds and streams Are gently wakened from their summer dreams; While mingled with the scholars' choral lay The songs of peasants speed the closing day; And bird, or insect,--each its anthem sings, And little gift of praise to Heaven brings: Then as the sun is sinking in the west, And lighting up the regions of the blest, From nature's altar falls the sacred fire, And higher aims each student's heart inspire.
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