The poet CH’ÊN T‘UAN (_d._ A.D. 989) began life under favourable auspices. He was suckled by a mysterious lady in a green robe, who found him playing as a tiny child on the bank of a river. He became, in consequence of this supernatural nourishment, exceedingly clever and possessed of a prodigious memory, with a happy knack for verse. Yet he failed to get a degree, and gave himself up “to the joys of hill and stream.” While on the mountains some spiritual beings are said to have taught him the art of hibernating like an animal, so that he would go off to sleep for a hundred days at a time. He wrote a treatise on the elixir of life, and was generally inclined to Taoist notions. At death his body remained warm for seven days, and for a whole month a “glory” played around his tomb. He was summoned several times to Court, but to judge by the following poem, officialdom seems to have had few charms for him:-- “_For ten long years I plodded through the vale of lust and strife, Then through my dreams there flashed a ray of the old sweet peaceful life.... No scarlet-tasselled hat of state can vie with soft repose; Grand mansions do not taste the joys that the poor man’s cabin knows. I hate the threatening clash of arms when fierce retainers throng, I loathe the drunkard’s revels and the sound of fife and song; But I love to seek a quiet nook, and some old volume bring Where I can see the wild flowers bloom and hear the birds in spring._” Another poet, YANG I (974-1030), was unable to speak as a child, until one day, being taken to the top of a pagoda, he suddenly burst out with the following lines:-- “_Upon this tall pagoda’s peak My hand can nigh the stars enclose; I dare not raise my voice to speak, For fear of startling God’s repose._” Mention has already been made of SHAO YUNG (1011-1077) in connection with Chu Hsi and classical scholarship. He was a great traveller, and an enthusiast in the cause of learning. He denied himself a stove in winter and a fan in summer. For thirty years he did not use a pillow, nor had he even a mat to sleep on. The following specimen of his verse seems, however, to belie his character as an ascetic:-- “_Fair flowers from above in my goblet are shining, And add by reflection an infinite zest; Through two generations I’ve lived unrepining, While four mighty rulers have sunk to their rest._ “_My body in health has done nothing to spite me, And sweet are the moments which pass o’er my head; But now, with this wine and these flowers to delight me, How shall I keep sober and get home to bed?_”