Who dares to say your sheep are few? The flocks are all three hundred strong. Who dares despise your cattle too? There ninety, black-lipped, press along. Though horned the sheep, yet peaceful each appears; The cattle come with moist and flapping ears. These climb the heights, those drink the pool; Some lie at rest, while others roam. With rain-coats, and thin splint hats cool, And bearing food, your herdsmen come. In thirties, ranged by hues, the creatures stand; Fit victims they will yield at your command. Your herdsmen twigs and fagots bring, With prey of birds and beasts for food. Your sheep, untouched by evil thing, Approach, their health and vigor good. The herdsman's waving hand they all behold, And docile come, and pass into the fold. Your herdsmen dream;--fish take the place Of men; on banners falcons fly, Displacing snakes and tortoises. The augur tells his prophecy:-- "The first betoken plenteous years; the change Of banners shows of homes a widening range." BOOK V THE DECADE OF SEAOU MIN ~A Eunuch Complains of His Fate~ A few fine lines, at random drawn, Like the shell-pattern wrought in lawn To hasty glance will seem. My trivial faults base slander's slime Distorted into foulest crime, And men me worthless deem. A few small points, pricked down on wood, May be made out a picture good Of the bright Southern Sieve. Who planned, and helped those slanderers vile, My name with base lies to defile? Unpitied, here I grieve. With babbling tongues you go about, And only scheme how to make out The lies you scatter round. Hear me--Be careful what you say; People ere long your words will weigh, And liars you'll be found. Clever you are with changeful schemes! How else could all your evil dreams And slanders work their way? Men now believe you; by and by, The truth found out, each vicious lie Will ill for ill repay. The proud rejoice; the sufferer weeps. O azure Heaven, from out thy deeps Why look in silence down? Behold those proud men and rebuke; With pity on the sufferers look, And on the evil frown. Those slanderers I would gladly take, With all who help their schemes to make, And to the tigers throw. If wolves and tigers such should spare, Td hurl them 'midst the freezing air, Where the keen north winds blow. And should the North compassion feel I'd fling them to great Heaven, to deal On them its direst woe. As on the sacred heights you dwell, My place is in the willow dell, One is the other near. Before you, officers, I spread These lines by me, poor eunuch, made. Think not Mang-tsze severe. ~An Officer Deplores the Misery of the Time~ In the fourth month summer shines; In the sixth the heat declines. Nature thus grants men relief; Tyranny gives only grief. Were not my forefathers men? Can my suffering 'scape their ken?