Shao Yung was a great authority on natural phenomena, the explanation of which he deduced from principles found in the Book of Changes. On one occasion he was strolling about with some friends when he heard the goatsucker’s cry. He immediately became depressed, and said, “When good government is about to prevail, the magnetic current flows from north to south; when bad government is about to prevail, it flows from south to north, and birds feel its influence first of all things. Now hitherto this bird has not been seen at Lo-yang; from which I infer that the magnetic current is flowing from south to north, and that some southerner is coming into power, with manifold consequences to the State.” The subsequent appearance of Wang An-shih was regarded as a verification of his skill. [Sidenote: WANG AN-SHIH] The great reformer here mentioned found time, amid the cares of his economic revolution, to indulge in poetical composition. Here is his account of a _nuit blanche_, an excellent example of the difficult “stop-short:”-- “_The incense-stick is burnt to ash, the water-clock is stilled. The midnight breeze blows sharply by, and all around is chilled._ “_Yet I am kept from slumber by the beauty of the spring... Sweet shapes of flowers across the blind the quivering moonbeams fling!_” Here, too, is a short poem by the classical scholar, Huang T‘ing-chien, written on the annual visit for worship at the tombs of ancestors, in full view of the hillside cemetery:-- “_The peach and plum trees smile with flowers this famous day of spring, And country graveyards round about with lamentations ring. Thunder has startled insect life and roused the gnats and bees, A gentle rain has urged the crops and soothed the flowers and trees.... Perhaps on this side lie the bones of a wretch whom no one knows; On that, the sacred ashes of a patriot repose. But who across the centuries can hope to mark each spot Where fool and hero, joined in death, beneath the brambles rot?_” The grave student Ch‘êng Hao wrote verses like the rest. Sometimes he even condescended to jest:-- “_I wander north, I wander south, I rest me where I please.... See how the river-banks are nipped beneath the autumn breeze! Yet what care I if autumn blasts the river-banks lay bare? The loss of hue to river-banks is the river-banks’ affair._” In the eleventh and twelfth centuries HUNG CHÜEH-FAN made a name for himself as a poet and calligraphist, but he finally yielded to the fascination of Buddhism and took orders as a priest. This is no trifling ordeal. From three to nine pastilles are placed upon the shaven scalp of the candidate, and are allowed to burn down into the flesh, leaving an indelible scar. Here is a poem by him, written probably before monasticism had damped his natural ardour:--