Unresting the Filial doves speed in their flight, Now fanning the air and anon they alight On the medlars thick grouped. But our monarch's command Forbade that his business be done with slack hand;-- Of my mother I thought with sad breast. My four steeds I harnessed, all white and black-maned, Which straight on their way, fleet and emulous strained. I wished to return; and now venture in song The wish to express, and announce how I long For my mother my care to attest. [NOTE.--Both Maou and Choo agree that this ode was composed in honor of the officer who narrates the story in it, although they say it was not written by the officer himself, but was put into his mouth, as it were, to express the sympathy of his entertainer with him, and the appreciation of his devotion to duty.] ~The Value of Friendship~ The woodmen's blows responsive ring, As on the trees they fall; And when the birds their sweet notes sing, They to each other call. From the dark valley comes a bird, And seeks the lofty tree. _Ying_ goes its voice, and thus it cries, "Companion, come to me." The bird, although a creature small, Upon its mate depends; And shall we men, who rank o'er all, Not seek to have our friends? All spirits love the friendly man, And hearken to his prayer. What harmony and peace they can Bestow, his lot shall share. _Hoo-hoo_ the woodmen all unite To shout, as trees they fell. They do their work with all their might;-- What I have done I'll tell. I've strained and made my spirits clear, The fatted lambs I've killed. With friends who my own surname bear, My hall I've largely filled. Some may be absent, casually, And leave a broken line; But better this than absence by An oversight of mine. My court I've sprinkled and swept clean, Viands in order set. Eight dishes loaded stand with grain; There's store of fatted meat. My mother's kith and kin I'm sure I've widely called by name. That some be hindered better is Than ~I~ give cause for blame. On the hill-side the trees they fell, All working with good-will I labor too, with equal zeal. And the host's part fulfil. Spirits I've set in order meet, The dishes stand in rows. The guests are here; no vacant seat A brother absent shows. The loss of kindly feeling oft From slightest things shall grow, Where all the fare is dry and spare, Resentments fierce may glow. My store of spirits is well strained, If short prove the supply, My messengers I straightway send, And what is needed buy. I beat the drums, and in the dance Lead joyously the train. Oh! good it is, when falls the chance The sparkling cup to drain. ~The Response to a Festal Ode~