Things grow the best when to themselves Left, and to nature's vigor rare. How young and tender is the child, With his twin tufts of falling hair! But when you him ere long behold, That child shall cap of manhood wear! THE PRINCE OF LOO A grand man is the prince of Loo, With person large and high. Lofty his front and suited to The fine glance of his eye! Swift are his feet. In archery What man with him can vie? With all these goodly qualities, We see him and we sigh! Renowned through all the land is he, The nephew of our lord. With clear and lovely eyes, his grace May not be told by word. All day at target practice, He'll never miss the bird. Such is the prince of Loo, and yet With grief for him we're stirred! All grace and beauty he displays, High forehead and eyes bright. And dancing choice! His arrows all The target hit aright. Straight through they go, and every one Lights on the self-same spot. Rebellion he could well withstand, And yet we mourn his lot! BOOK IX _The Odes of Wei_ ON THE MISGOVERNMENT OF THE STATE A fruit, small as the garden peach, May still be used for food. A State, though poor as ours, might thrive, If but its rule were good. Our rule is bad, our State is sad, With mournful heart I grieve. All can from instrument and voice My mood of mind perceive. Who know me not, with scornful thought, Deem me a scholar proud. "Those men are right," they fiercely say, "What mean your words so loud?" Deep in my heart my sorrows lie, And none the cause may know. How should they know who never try To learn whence comes our woe? The garden jujube, although small, May still be used for food. A State, though poor as ours, might thrive, If but its rule were good. Our rule is bad, our State is sad, With mournful heart I grieve. Methinks I'll wander through the land, My misery to relieve. Who know me not, with scornful thought, Deem that wild views I hold. "Those men are right," they fiercely say, "What mean your words so bold?" Deep in my heart my sorrows lie, And none the cause may know. How can they know, who never try To learn whence comes our woe? THE MEAN HUSBAND Thin cloth of dolichos supplies the shoes, In which some have to brave the frost and cold. A bride, when poor, her tender hands must use, Her dress to make, and the sharp needle hold. This man is wealthy, yet he makes his bride Collars and waistbands for his robes provide.