One of the best known poets of this period is LIU CHI (A.D. 1311-1375), who was also deeply read in the Classics and also a student of astrology. He lived into the Ming dynasty, which he helped to establish, and was for some years the trusted adviser of its first ruler. He lost favour, however, and was poisoned by a rival, it is said, with the Emperor’s connivance. The following lines, referring to an early visit to a mountain monastery, reveal a certain sympathy with Buddhism:-- “_I mounted when the cock had just begun, And reached the convent ere the bells were done; A gentle zephyr whispered o’er the lawn; Behind the wood the moon gave way to dawn. And in this pure sweet solitude I lay, Stretching my limbs out to await the day, No sound along the willow pathway dim Save the soft echo of the bonzes’ hymn._” Here too is an oft-quoted stanza, to be found in any poetry primer:-- “_A centenarian ’mongst men Is rare; and if one comes, what then? The mightiest heroes of the past Upon the hillside sleep at last._” The prose writings of Liu Chi are much admired for their pure style, which has been said to “smell of antiquity.” One piece tells how a certain noble who had lost all by the fall of the Ch‘in dynasty, B.C. 206, and was forced to grow melons for a living, had recourse to divination, and went to consult a famous augur on his prospects. “Alas!” cried the augur, “what is there that Heaven can bestow save that which virtue can obtain? Where is the efficacy of spiritual beings beyond that with which man has endowed them? The divining plant is but a dead stalk; the tortoise-shell a dry bone. They are but matter like ourselves. And man, the divinest of all things, why does he not seek wisdom from within, rather than from these grosser stuffs? “Besides, sir, why not reflect upon the past--that past which gave birth to this present? Your cracked roof and crumbling walls of to-day are but the complement of yesterday’s lofty towers and spacious halls. The straggling bramble is but the complement of the shapely garden tree. The grasshopper and the cicada are but the complement of organs and flutes; the will-o’-the-wisp and firefly, of gilded lamps and painted candles. Your endive and watercresses are but the complement of the elephant-sinews and camel’s hump of days bygone; the maple-leaf and the rush, of your once rich robes and fine attire. Do not repine that those who had not such luxuries then enjoy them now. Do not be dissatisfied that you, who enjoyed them then, have them now no more. In the space of a day and night the flower blooms and dies. Between spring and autumn things perish and are renewed. Beneath the roaring cascade a deep pool is found; dark valleys lie at the foot of high hills. These things you know; what more can divination teach you?” Another piece is entitled “Outsides,” and is a light satire on the corruption of his day:--