“_’Tis a well-worn old saying, which all men allow, That grief stamps the deepest of lines on the brow: Alas for my hair, it is silvery now!_ “_Alas for my father, cut off in his pride! Alas that no more I may stand by his side! Oh, where were the gods when that great hero died?_” The literary fame of the Beauclerc was rivalled, if not surpassed, by his grandson, LIU CH’Ê (B.C. 156-87), who succeeded in B.C. 140 as sixth Emperor of the Han dynasty. He was an enthusiastic patron of literature. He devoted great attention to music as a factor in national life. He established important religious sacrifices to heaven and earth. He caused the calendar to be reformed by his grand astrologer, the historian SSŬ-MA CH’IEN, from which date accurate chronology may be almost said to begin. His generals carried the Imperial arms into Central Asia, and for many years the Huns were held in check. Notwithstanding his enlightened policy, the Emperor was personally much taken up with the magic and mysteries which were being gradually grafted on to the Tao of Lao Tzŭ, and he encouraged the numerous quacks who pretended to have discovered the elixir of life. The following are specimens of his skill in poetry:-- “_The autumn blast drives the white scud in the sky, Leaves fade, and wild geese sweeping south meet the eye; The scent of late flowers fills the soft air above. My heart full of thoughts of the lady I love. In the river the barges for revel-carouse Are lined by white waves which break over their bows; Their oarsmen keep time to the piping and drumming.... Yet joy is as naught Alloyed by the thought That youth slips away and that old age is coming._” The next lines were written upon the death of a harem favourite, to whom he was fondly attached:-- “_The sound of rustling silk is stilled, With dust the marble courtyard filled; No footfalls echo on the floor, Fallen leaves in heaps block up the door.... For she, my pride, my lovely one, is lost, And I am left, in hopeless anguish tossed._” A good many anonymous poems have come down to us from the first century B.C., and some of these contain here and there quaint and pleasing conceits, as, for instance-- “_Man reaches scarce a hundred, yet his tears Would fill a lifetime of a thousand years._” The following is a poem of this period, the author of which is unknown:--