| 題名： | 長恨歌 |
| 作者： | 白居易 |
| 漢皇重色思傾國， 御宇多年求不得。 楊家有女初長成， 養在深閨人未識。 天生麗質難自棄， 一朝選在君王側。 回眸一笑百媚生， 六宮粉黛無顏色。 春寒賜浴華清池， 溫泉水滑洗凝脂。 侍兒扶起嬌無力， 始是新承恩澤時。 雲鬢花顏金步搖， 芙蓉帳暖度春宵。 春宵苦短日高起， 從此君王不早朝。 承歡侍宴無閑暇， 春從春遊夜專夜。 後宮佳麗三千人， 三千寵愛在一身。 金屋妝成嬌侍夜， 玉樓宴罷醉和春。 姊妹弟兄皆列土， 可憐光彩生門戶。 遂令天下父母心， 不重生男重生女。 驪宮高處入青雲， 仙樂風飄處處聞。 緩歌慢舞凝絲竹， 盡日君王看不足。 漁陽鞞鼓動地來， 驚破霓裳羽衣曲。 九重城闕煙塵生， 千乘萬騎西南行。 翠華搖搖行復止， 西出都門百餘里。 六軍不發無奈何， 宛轉蛾眉馬前死。 花鈿委地無人收， 翠翹金雀玉搔頭。 君王掩面救不得， 回看血淚相和流。 黃埃散漫風蕭索， 雲棧縈紆登劒閣。 峨嵋山下少人行， 旌旗無光日色薄。 蜀江水碧蜀山青， 聖主朝朝暮暮情。 行宮見月傷心色， 夜雨聞鈴腸斷聲。 天旋日轉迴龍馭， 到此躊躇不能去。 馬嵬坡下泥土中， 不見玉顏空死處。 君臣相顧盡霑衣， 東望都門信馬歸。 歸來池苑皆依舊， 太液芙蓉未央柳。 芙蓉如面柳如眉， 對此如何不淚垂？ 春風桃李花開夜， 秋雨梧桐葉落時。 西宮南苑多秋草， 宮葉滿階紅不埽。 棃園弟子白髮新， 椒房阿監青娥老。 夕殿螢飛思悄然， 孤燈挑盡未成眠。 遲遲鐘鼓初長夜， 耿耿星河欲曙天。 鴛鴦瓦冷霜華重， 翡翠衾寒誰與共。 悠悠生死別經年， 魂魄不曾來入夢。 臨邛道士鴻都客， 能以精誠致魂魄。 爲感君王展轉思， 遂教方士殷勤覓。 排空馭氣奔如電， 升天入地求之徧。 上窮碧落下黃泉， 兩處茫茫皆不見。 忽聞海上有仙山， 山在虛無縹緲間。 樓閣玲瓏五雲起， 其中綽約多仙子。 中有一人字太真， 雪膚花貌參差是。 金闕西廂叩玉扃， 轉教小玉報雙成。 聞道漢家天子使， 九華帳裏夢魂驚。 攬衣推枕起裴回， 珠箔銀屏邐迤開。 雲鬢半偏新睡覺， 花冠不整下堂來。 風吹仙袂飄颻舉， 猶似霓裳羽衣舞。 玉容寂莫淚闌干， 棃花一枝春帶雨。 含情凝睇謝君王， 一別音容兩渺茫。 昭陽殿裏恩愛絕， 蓬萊宮中日月長。 回頭下望人寰處， 不見長安見塵霧。 唯將舊物表深情， 鈿合金釵寄將去。 釵留一股合一扇， 釵擘黃金合分鈿。 但教心似金鈿堅， 天上人間會相見。 臨別殷勤重寄詞， 詞中有誓兩心知。 七月七日長生殿， 夜半無人私語時。 在天願作比翼鳥， 在地願爲連理枝。 天長地久有時盡， 此恨緜緜無絕期。 | |
| 英譯： |
THE Chinese Emperor, obsessed by beauty longed for one who might subvert the kingdom
In the Imperial palace he sought for many years but could not find her.
The Yang family had a daughter scarcely grown up
Brought up in the depths of the women's apartments,
Unknown to anyone outside
Heaven had endowed her with graces that she herself could not disdain.
One day she is chosen to stand by the Emperor's side,
At the turn of her eyes, at the flash of her smile a hundred compliments are born;
Who of the powdered and pencilled favourites of the six palaces can compete with such beauty?
At the Imperial behest in the cool springtime she washes in the Hua-ch'ing pool;
Smooth and warm the fountain water washes her alabaster skin
The attendant maid supports languid loveliness
From this time the new arrival enjoys Imperial favour
Her cloud front coiffure, her painted face
Her hair ornaments, which swing as she walks
She spends the warm spring night within the hibiscus bed curtains;
Ah! How far oo fleeting was that spring night and how early the rising of the sun,
From this time onwards the Emperor gives no early audience.
She receives his favours and she waits on him at his feasts without break
She is always chosen for the spring excursion; chosen for the nightly carouse.
In the palace there are three thousand beauties,
But the favour that should have been extended to three thousand
Is concentrated on the person of one.
In her "Golden Home" she beauties herself to attend him in the evening
The feasts of the jade tower ended
She turns to him delirious with love.
Brothers and sisters, all are raised to noble rank;
Alas! for the ill-omened glories of the house in which she was born;
From this time onwards a parent's wish was not for the birth of sons, but of daughters.
The palace of Li towers into the azure sky
Fairy music is wafted on the breeze and is heard all round
Languid chanting and slow dancing linger to the sound of guitar and flute,
All day long the Emperor gazes upon her with never satiated eyes.
From Yü-yang comes the roll of drums that makes the earth tremble.
Fear scatters the song of the"Rainbow Skirt and the Feathered Jacket."
From the nine-towered gate towers smoke and dust rise
A thousand chariots, ten thousand horsemen go to the south-west,
Swaggering plumes go onwards, then halt.
From the gates of the capital they have gone a day's journey to the west
The six armies will go no further, there is no help for it
To appease them the moth-like eyebrows must die before their horses,
Flower-like jewellery is thrown to the ground and no one picks it up
Kingfisher feather work, golden birds and hairpins of jade lie there unclaimed,
The Emperor buries his face and cannot save her,
He looks back on the place where her blood and his tears flowed together.
The yellow dust is blown far and wide and the wind blows bleak and cold
From "Cloudy Pass" the road turns and winds up to the Sword Shelf.
Few walk beneath the shadow of Omei Shan,
The gleam of their banners is darkened; the sun is dimmed.
Oh! Jade-like are the streams of Szechwan, green are its hills!
The monarch morning and evening is overcome by his feelings
Gazing on the moon from his temporary palace its beauty hurts him
In the evening rain he hears the tinkling of bells and his heart melts.
There is a change of fortune, the days go by the Emperor returns;
When he arrives at the place (where she died) nerveless and irresolute, he cannot go on;
On the slopes of Ma-wei there are but stretches of mud,
He cannot see the jade face in the empty place of death.
The Emperor and his ministers regard each other and their clothes are wet (with tears).
Eastwards towards the gates of the capital their horses bear them as they will,
Once home they find the ponds and gardens all as before;
By the T’ai-i Lake the hibiscus are open and by the Wei-yang Palace the willows are in bud,
The hibiscus flowers are like her face, the willow buds like her eyebrows.
When he is faced by such beauty he cannot refrain from tears.
The spring wind sways the blossom of peach and plum
The autumn rain brings down the leaves from the Wu-t'ung tree,
In the southern enclosure of the western palace the autumn colours the grass,
The fallen leaves cover the terraces with red but no one sweeps them away.
The actors of the "pear garden" have aged
The eunuchs of the "pepper room" have lost their charm,
At night in the hall the flitting fireflies remind him of his sorrow
The wick of his single lamp is burnt to the rind,
Still sleep does not come;
Throughout the long night he hears drums and bells mark the slowly passing hours
Gradually the Milky Way yields to the dawn,
The mandarin duck and drake tiles glitter coldly in the hoar frost,
The Emperor is cold beneath the kingfisher quilt
For who is there to share it with him?
Slowly, sadly, a year rolls by since dead and living were parted
Her ghost does not come back to haunt his dreams.
In Ling ch'iung there is a famous Taoist priest, in the Record Office,
Who is able by earnest concentration to summon the in-habitants of the ghostly world.
As the Emperor rolls from side to side distracted by his thoughts
They cause the priest to concentrate his powers in search;
He mounts up into space and rides the ether, rushing with speed of lightning
Up to heaven and down to earth searching on every hand,
Above he exhausts the blue heavens, below he exhausts the yellow springs
But in neither of these vast areas can he find her.
Suddenly he hears that on the sea there is a fairy island mountain.
This mountain floats in space amidst the void
Towards dwellings hung with tinkling bells;
Five-coloured clouds envelop it
Amidst it all the children of the immortal world move gracefully to and fro;
Among the others there dwells T'ai-chên
By her snowy skin and her flower-like face he has a feeling that it must be she.
To the west of the gold palace is a courtyard
He knocks at the jade gate and asks Hsiao-yü to let Shuang-ch'êng know.
Hearing of a messenger that has arrived from the Emperor
The nine embroidered bed-curtains are pulled aside and the sleeping ghost starts up.
Grasping her clothes she pushes aside the pillow and rises in a flutter
Pearl-studded blinds and silver screens are drawn to one side
Her cloud-like hair is disarranged as she comes straight from her slumbers,
Her flowing head-dress is not straight as she comes down the hall
The wind blows the fairy sleeves hither and thither as she comes
As if once more she danced to the tunes of the Rainbow Skirt and the Feathered Jacket.
Her jadelike face is drawn and sad
Her tears drop on the balcony,
A spray of pear blossom is drenched as with spring rain
Yet her passions are controlled though the tears stand in her eyes as she thanks the Emperor's messenger
Since their separation from each other both appearance and voice have grown indistinct.
In the Chao-yang Hall his love and benevolence will never reach her again
In fairyland days and months are long.
Turning her head she can gaze down at the world of men
But she cannot see Chang-an because of the mists and dust;
All she can do is to bring old toys, tokens of their great love,
The gold and enamel box and hairpin, these she sends to him
From the pin she reserves a piece, of the box she retains the lid.
She breaks the yellow gold of the pin, she divides the box
To signify her heart is as true as the gold and enamel pin
Whether it is in this world or the next they meet again.
When the messenger is about to go
She emphasizes her messages
Among them recalling a pledge which they two alone know
How on the seventh day of the seventh month
When at midnight they were alone in the Ch’ang-shêng Palace they whispered these words:
"We swear that in the sky we will be like one-winged birds (that must fly together)
And on earth like trees with interlocked branches."
Both heaven and earth must pass away in due course
But this wrong shall stretch out for ever without an end.
ENNUI.─His Imperial Majesty, a slave to beauty, longed for a "subverter of empires;" For years he had sought in vain to secure such a treasure for his palace.... BEAUTY.─From the Yang family came a maiden, just grown up to womanhood, Reared in the inner apartments, altogether unknown to fame. But nature had amply endowed her with a beauty hard to conceal, And one day she was summoned to a place at the monarch's side. Her sparkling eye and merry laughter fascinated every beholder, And among the powder and paint of the harem her loveliness reigned supreme. In the chills of spring, by Imperial mandate, she bathed in the Hua-ch'ing Pool, Laving her body in the glassy wavelets of the fountain perennially warm. Then, when she came forth, helped by attendants, her delicate and graceful movements Finally gained for her gracious favour, captivating his Majesty's heart. REVELRY.─Hair like a cloud, face like a flower, headdress which quivered as she walked, Amid the delights of the Hibiscus Pavilion she passed the soft spring nights. Spring nights, too short alas! for them, albeit prolonged till dawn,─ From this time forth no more audiences in the hours of early morn. Revels and feasts in quick succession, ever without a break, She chosen always for the spring excursion, chosen for the nightly carouse. Three thousand peerless beauties adorned the apartments of the monarch's harem, Yet always his Majesty reserved his attentions for her alone. Passing her life in a "golden house," with fair girls to wait on her, She was daily wafted to ecstasy on the wine fumes of the banquet-hall. Her sisters and her brothers, one and all, were raised to the rank of nobles. Alas! for the ill-omened glories which she conferred on her family. For thus it came about that fathers and mothers through the length and breadth of the empire Rejoiced no longer over the birth of sons, but over the birth of daughters. In the gorgeous palace piercing the grey clouds above, Divine music, borne on the breeze, is spread around on all sides; Of song and the dance to the guitar and flute, All through the live long day, his Majesty never tires. But suddenly comes the roll of the fish-skin war-drums, Breaking rudely upon the air of the "Rainbow Skirt and Feather Jacket." FLIGHT.─Clouds of dust envelop the lofty gates of the capital. A thousand war-chariots and ten thousand horses move towards the south-west. Feathers and jewels among the throng, onwards and then a halt. A hundred li beyond the western gate, leaving behind them the city walls, The soldiers refuse to advance; nothing remains to be done Until she of the moth-eyebrows perishes in sight of all. On the ground lie gold ornaments with no one to pick them up, Kingfisher wings, golden birds, and hairpins of costly jade. The monarch covers his face, powerless to save; And as he turns to look back, tears and blood flow mingled together. EXILE.─Across vast stretches of yellow sand with whistling winds, Across cloud-capped mountain-tops they make their way. Few indeed are the travellers who reach the heights of Mount Omi; The bright gleam of the standards grows fainter day by day. Dark the Ssǔch'uan waters, dark the Ssǔch'uan hills; Daily and nightly his Majesty is consumed by bitter grief. Travelling along, the very brightness of the moon saddens his heart, And the sound of a bell through the evening rain severs his viscera in twain. RETURN.─Time passes, days go by, and once again he is there at the well-known spot, And there he lingers on, unable to tear himself wholly away. But from the clods of earth at the foot of the Ma-wei hill, No sign of her lovely face appears, only the place of death. The eyes of sovereign and minister meet, and robes are wet with tears, Eastward they depart and hurry on to the capital at full speed. HOME.─There is the pool and there are the flowers, as of old. There is the hibiscus of the pavilion, there are the willows of the palace. In the hibiscus he sees her face, in the willow he sees her eyebrows: How in the presence of these should tears not flow,─ In spring amid the flowers of the peach and plum, In autumn rains when the leaves of the wu t'ung fall? To the south of the western palace are many trees, And when their leaves cover the steps, no one now sweeps them away. The hair of the Pear-Garden musicians is white as though with age; The guardians of the Pepper Chamber seem to him no longer young. Where fireflies flit through the hall, he sits in silent grief; Alone, the lamp-wick burnt out, he is still unable to sleep. Slowly pass the watches, for the nights are now too long, And brightly shine the constellations, as though dawn would never come. Cold settles upon the duck-and-drake tiles, and thick hoar-frost, The kingfisher coverlet is chill, with none to share its warmth. Parted by life and death, time still goes on, But never once does her spirit come back to visit him in dreams. SPIRIT-LAND.─A Taoist priest of Lin-ch'ung, of the Hung-tu school, Was able, by his perfect art, to summon the spirits of the dead. Anxious to relieve the fretting mind of his sovereign, This magician receives orders to urge a diligent quest. Borne on the clouds, charioted upon ether, he rushes with the speed of lightning High up to heaven, low down to earth, seeking everywhere. Above, he searches the empyrean; below, the Yellow Springs, But nowhere in these vast areas can her place be found. At length he hears of an Isle of the Blest away in mid-ocean, Lying in realms of vacuity, dimly to be descried. There gaily decorated buildings rise up like rainbow clouds, And there many gentle and beautiful Immortals pass their days in peace. Among them is one whose name sounds upon lips as Eternal, And by her snow-white skin and flower-like face he knows that this is she. Knocking at the jade door at the western gate of the golden palace, He bids a fair waiting-maid announce him to her mistress, fairer still. She, hearing of this embassy sent by the Son of Heaven, Starts up from her dreams among the tapestry curtains. Grasping her clothes and pushing away the pillow, she arises in haste, And begins to adorn herself with pearls and jewels. Her cloud-like coiffure, dishevelled, shows that she has just risen from sleep, And with her flowery head-dress awry, she passes into the hall. The sleeves of her immortal robes are filled out by the breeze, As once more she seems to dance to the "Rainbow Skirt and Feather Jacket." Her features are fixed and calm, though myriad tears fall, Wetting a spray of pear-bloom, as it were with the raindrops of spring. Subduing her emotions, restraining her grief, she tenders thanks to his Majesty, Saying how since they parted she has missed his form and voice; And how, although their love on earth has so soon come to an end, The days and months among the Blest are still of long duration. And now she turns and gazes towards the abode of mortals, But cannot discern the Imperial city lost in the dust and haze. Then she takes out the old keepsakes, tokens of undying love, A gold hairpin, an enamel brooch, and bids the magician carry these back. One half of the hairpin she keeps, and one half of the enamel brooch, Breaking with her hands the yellow gold, and dividing the enamel in two. "Tell him," she said, "to be firm of heart, as this gold and enamel, And then in heaven or on earth below we two may meet once more." At parting, she confused to the magician many earnest messages of love, Among the rest recalling a pledge mutually understood; How on the seventh day of the seventh moon, in the Hall of Immortality, At midnight, when none were near, he had whispered in her ear, "I swear that we will ever fly like the one-winged birds, Or grow united like the tree with branches which twine together." Heaven and Earth, long-lasting as they are, will some day pass away; But this great wrong shall stretch out for ever, endless, for ever and ay. $(Ennui)$ $(TIRED of pale languors and the painted smile)$ His Majesty the son of Heaven, long time A slave of beauty, ardently desired The glance that brings an empire's overthrow $(Beauty)$ From the Yang family a maiden came $(Glowing to womanhood a rose aflame,)$ Reared in the inner sanctuary apart, Lost to the world, resistless to the heart, For beauty such as hers was hard to hide: And so when summoned to the monarch's side Her flashing eye and merry laugh had power 0 $(To charm into pure gold the leaden hour;)$ $(And through the paint and powder of the court)$ $(All gathered to the sunshine that she brought.)$ In spring by the Imperial command The pool of Hua-ch'ing $(beheld her stand)$ Laving her body in the $(crystal)$ wave Whose dimpled fount a warmth perennial gave. Then when, her girls attending, 0 $(forth she came)$ $(A reed in motion and a rose in flame,)$ An empire passed into a maid's control And $(with her eyes)$ she won a monarch's soul. $(Revelry)$ Hair of cloud o'er face of flower, Nodding plumes where she alights, In the white Hibiscus bower She lingers through the soft spring nights, Nights too short tho' wearing late Till the $(mimosa)$ days are born: Never more affairs of state Wake them in the early morn: Wine-stained moments on the wing, $(Moonlit)$ hours go luting by, She who leads the flight of spring Leads the midnight revelry: Flawless beauties, thousands three? Deck the Imperial harem, Yet the monarch's eyes may see Only one, and one supreme Goddess in a golden hall, Fairest maids around her gleam, Wine fumes of the festival Daily waft her into dream: $(Smiles)$ she and her sires are lords, Noble rank her brothers win, Ah, the ominous awards Showered upon her kith and kin! 0 $(For throughout the land there runs)$ $(Thought of peril, thought of fire,)$ Men rejoice not in their sons, Daughters are their sole desire. In the gorgeous palaces Piercing the grey skies above Music on the languid breeze Draws the dreaming world to love. Song and dance and hands that sway The passion of a thousand lyres Ever through the live long day, And the monarch never tires: Sudden comes the answer curt, Loud the fish-skin war-drums roar. Cease the plaintive "Rainbow skirt," $(Death is drumming at the door.)$ $(Flight)$ Clouds upon clouds of dust enveloping The lofty gates of the proud capital. $(On,)$ on to the south-west $(a living wall)$, Ten thousand battle chariots on the wing. $(Feathers and jewels flashing)$ 0 through the crowd Onwards and then a halt. $(The legions wait)$ A hundred li beyond the western gate, The great walls loom behind them $(wrapt in cloud)$. $(No further stirs the sullen)$ 0 soldiery, 0 $(Naught but the last dread office can avail)$ Till she of the dark moth-eyebrows, $(lily pale,)$ 0 Shines through $(the avenues of spears)$ 0 to die. Upon the ground lie ornaments of $(gold)$, $(One with the dust)$ and none to gather them, Hair pins of jade and many a costly gem, Kingfishers' wings and golden birds $(scarce cold)$. The King has sought the darkness of his hands, Veiling the eyes that looked for help in vain, And as he turns to gaze upon the slain, His tears, her blood are mingled on the sands. $(Exile)$ Across great plains of yellow sand, Where the whistling winds are blown Over the cloud-topped mountain peaks, $(They wend their way alone.)$ Few are the pilgrims that attain Mount Omi's heights afar; And the bright gleam of their standard grows Faint as the last $(pale star)$. Dark the Ssuch'uan waters loom, Dark the Ssuch'uan hills, And day and night the Monarch's life An endless sorrow fills. The brightness of the foreign moon Saddens his lonely heart; And the sound of the bell in the evening rain Doth rend his soul apart. $(Return)$ The days go by and once again 0 $(Among the shadows of his pain)$ He lingers at the well known place 0 $(That holds the memory of her face.)$ But from the clouds of earth that lie Beneath the foot of tall Ma-wei No signs of her dim form appear, Only the place of death is here. Statesman's and monarch's eyes have met And royal robes with tears are wet; Then eastward flies the frantic steed As on to the Red Wall they speed. $(Home)$ There is the pool, the flowers as of old, There the hibiscus at the 0 $(gates of gold)$, And there the willows round the palace rise. In the hibiscus flower he sees her face, Her eyebrows in the willow he can trace, $(And silken pansies thrill him with her eyes.)$ How in this presence should his tears not come, In spring amid the bloom of peach and plum 0, In autumn rains when the wu' tung leaves must fall? South of the western palace many trees Shower their dead leaves upon the terraces And not a hand to stir their crimson pall. Ye minstrels of the garden of the Pear, Grief with the touch of age has blanched your hair. Ye guardians of the Pepper Chamber now $(No longer young to him)$ the firefly flits Through the 0 $(black hall where lost to love)$ he sits $(Folding the veil of sorrows)$ round his brow, Alone, and one by one the lanterns 0 $(die)$, $(Sleep with the lily hands has passed him by,)$ Slowly the 0 $(watches of the night are gone)$, For now, alas, the nights are all too long, And shine the stars a silver mocking throng As though the dawn $(were dead or slumbered on)$. Cold settles on the painted duck and drake, The frost a ghostly tapestry doth make, Chill the kingfisher's quilt with none to share, Parted by life and death, the ebb and flow Of night and day over his spirit go, He hunts her face in dreams $(and finds despair)$. $(Spirit-Land)$ A priest of Tao of the Hung-tu school Was able by his magic to compel The spirits of the dead. So to relieve The sorrows of his king the Taoist Receives an urgent summons. $(Borne aloft)$ $(Upon the clouds,)$ on ether charioted He flies with speed of lightning. High to heaven, Low down to earth, he seeking everywhere Floats on the far empyrean, and below The Yellow Springs; but nowhere in great space Can he find aught of her. At length he hears An old world tale: —an Island of the Blest— So runs the legend—in mid ocean lies In realms of blue vacuity, too faint To be descried; there gaily coloured towers Rise up like rainbow clouds and many gentle And beautiful Immortals pass their days In peace. Among them there is one whose name Sounds upon lips as Eternal. By the bloom Of her white skin and flower-like face he knows That this is she. Knocking at the jade door At the western gate of the golden house he bids 0 $(A fair maid breathe his name to one more fair)$ $(Than all.)$ She hearing of this embassy Sent by the Son of Heaven starts from her dreams Among the tapestry curtains. Gathering Her robes around her, letting the pillow fall, She, risen in haste, begins to deck herself With pearls and gems. Her cloud-like hair dis-hevelled Betrays the nearness of her sleep. And with the droop Of her flowery plumes in disarray she floats Light through the hall. The sleeves of her divine Raiment the breezes fill. $(As once again)$ To the Rainbow Skirt and Feather Jacket air She seems to dance, her face is fixed and calm Through a myriad tear-drops on a nectarine spray Fall and recall the rains of spring. Subdued Her wild emotions and restrained her grief, She tenders thanks unto his Majesty, Saying how since they parted she has missed His form and voice; how though their love had reached Too soon its earthly limit yet among The Blest a multitude of mellow noons 0 $(Remain ungathered.)$ Turning now, she leans Toward the land of the living and in vain Would find the Imperial city lost in the dust And haze. Then raising from their lacquered gloom Old keepsakes, tokens of undying love, A golden hair pin, an enamel brooch, She bids him bear them to her Lord. One half The hair pin still she keeps, one half the brooch Breaking with her dim hands the yellow gold, Sundering the enamel. "Tell my Lord," She murmured, "to be firm of heart as this "Gold and enamel; then in heaven or earth "Below we twain may meet once more." At part-ing She gave a thousand messages of love, Among the rest recalled a mutual pledge. How on the seventh day of the seventh moon Within the Hall of Immortality At midnight, whispering when none were near Low in her ear, he breathed, "I swear that we "Like to the one-winged birds will ever fly "Or grow united as the tree whose boughs "Are interwoven. Heaven and earth shall fall "Long-lasting as they are. But this great wrong "Shall stretch from end to end the universe "And shine beyond the ruin of the stars." Ennui Tired of pale languors and the painted smile, His Majesty the Son of Heaven, long time A slave of beauty, ardently desired The glance that brings an Empire's overthrow. Beauty From the Yang family a maiden came, Glowing to womanhood a rose aflame, Reared in the inner sanctuary apart, Lost to the world, resistless to the heart; For beauty such as hers was hard to hide, And so, when summoned to the monarch's side, Her flashing eye and merry laugh had power To charm into pure gold the leaden hour; And through the paint and powder of the court All gathered to the sunshine that she brought. In spring, by the Imperial command, The pool of Hua'ch'ing beheld her stand, Laving her body in the crystal wave Whose dimpled fount a warmth perennial gave. Then when, her girls attending, forth she came, A reed in motion and a rose in flame, An empire passed into a maid's control, And with her eyes she won a monarch's soul. Revelry Hair of cloud o'er face of flower, Nodding plumes where she alights, In the white hibiscus bower She lingers through the soft spring nights— Nights too short, though wearing late Till the mimosa days are born. Never more affairs of State Wake them in the early morn. Wine-stained moments on the wing, Moonlit hours go luting by, She who leads the flight of Spring Leads the midnight revelry. Flawless beauties, thousands three, Deck the Imperial harem, Yet the monarch's eyes may see Only one, and one supreme. Goddess in a golden hall, Fairest maids around her gleam, Wine-fumes of the festival Daily waft her into dream. Smiles she, and her sires are lords, Noble rank her brothers win: Ah, the ominous awards Showered upon her kith and kin! For throughout the land there runs Thought of peril, thought of fire; Men rejoice not in their sons— Daughters are their sole desire. In the gorgeous palaces, Piercing the grey skies above, Music on the languid breeze Draws the dreaming world to love. Song and dance and hands that sway The passion of a thousand lyres Ever through the live-long day, And the monarch never tires. Sudden comes the answer curt, Loud the fish-skin war-drums roar; Cease the plaintive "rainbow skirt": Death is drumming at the door. Flight Clouds upon clouds of dust enveloping The lofty gates of the proud capital. On, on, to the south-west, a living wall, Ten thousand battle-chariots on the wing. Feathers and jewels flashing through the cloud Onwards, and then an halt. The legions wait A hundred li beyond the western gate; The great walls loom behind them wrapt in cloud. No further stirs the sullen soldiery, Naught but the last dread office can avail, Till she of the dark moth-eyebrows, lily pale, Shines through tall avenues of spears to die. Upon the ground lie ornaments of gold, One with the dust, and none to gather them, Hair-pins of jade and many a costly gem, Kingfishers' wings and golden birds scarce cold. The king has sought the darkness of his hands, Veiling the eyes that looked for help in vain, And as he turns to gaze upon the slain, His tears, her blood, are mingled on the sands. Exile Across great plains of yellow sand, Where the whistling winds are blown, Over the cloud-topped mountain peaks, They wend their way alone. Few are the pilgrims that attain Mount Omi's heights afar; And the bright gleam of their standard grows Faint as the last pale star. Dark the Ssŭch'uan waters loom, Dark the Ssŭch'uan hills, And day and night the monarch's life An endless sorrow fills. The brightness of the foreign moon Saddens his lonely heart; And a sound of a bell in the evening rain Doth rend his soul apart. Return The days go by, and once again, Among the shadows of his pain, He lingers at the well-known place That holds the memory of her face. But from the clouds of earth that lie Beneath the foot of tall Ma-wei No signs of her dim form appear, Only the place of death is here. Statesman's and monarch's eyes have met, And royal robes with tears are wet; Then eastward flies the frantic steed As on to the Red Wall they speed. Home There is the pool, the flowers as of old, There the hibiscus at the gates of gold, And there the willows round the palace rise. In the hibiscus flower he sees her face, Her eyebrows in the willow he can trace, And silken pansies thrill him with her eyes. How in this presence should his tears not come, In spring amid the bloom of peach and plum, In autumn rains when the wut'ung leaves must fall? South of the western palace many trees Shower their dead leaves upon the terraces, And not a hand to stir their crimson pall. Ye minstrels of the Garden of the Pear, Grief with the touch of age has blanched your hair. Ye guardians of the Pepper Chamber, now No longer young to him, the firefly flits Through the black hall where, lost to love, he sits, Folding the veil of sorrows round his brow, Alone, and one by one the lanterns die, Sleep with the lily hands has passed him by, Slowly the watches of the night are gone, For now, alas! the nights are all too long, And shine the stars, a silver, mocking throng, As though the dawn were dead or slumbered on. Cold settles on the painted duck and drake, The frost a ghostly tapestry doth make, Chill the kingfisher's quilt with none to share. Parted by life and death; the ebb and flow Of night and day over his spirit go; He hunts her face in dreams, and finds despair. Spirit-Land A priest of Tao, one of the Hung-tu school, Was able by his magic to compel The spirits of the dead. So to relieve The sorrows of his king, the man of Tao Receives an urgent summons. Borne aloft Upon the clouds, on ether charioted, He flies with speed of lightning. High to heaven, Low down to earth, he, seeking everywhere, Floats on the far empyrean, and below The yellow springs; but nowhere in great space Can he find aught of her. At length he hears An old-world tale: an Island of the Blest — So runs the legend—in mid-ocean lies In realms of blue vacuity, too faint To be described; there gaily coloured towers Rise up like rainbow clouds, and many gentle And beautiful Immortals pass their days In peace. Among them there is one whose name Sounds upon lips as Eternal. By the bloom Of her white skin and flower-like face he knows That this is she. Knocking at the jade door At the western gate of the golden house, he bids A fair maid breathe his name to one more fair Than all. She, hearing of this embassy Sent by the Son of Heaven, starts from her dreams Among the tapestry curtains. Gathering Her robes around her, letting the pillow fall, She, risen in haste, begins to deck herself With pearls and gems. Her cloud-like hair, dishevelled, Betrays the nearness of her sleep. And with the droop Of her flowery plumes in disarray, she floats Light through the hall. The sleeves of her divine Raiment the breezes fill. As once again To the Rainbow Skirt and Feather Jacket air She seems to dance, her face is fixed and calm, Though many tear-drops on an almond bough Fall, and recall the rains of spring. Subdued Her wild emotions and restrained her grief, She tenders thanks unto his Majesty, Saying how since they parted she has missed His form and voice; how, though their love had reached Too soon its earthly limit, yet among The blest a multitude of mellow noons Remain ungathered. Turning now, she leans Toward the land of the living, and in vain Would find the Imperial city, lost in the dust And haze. Then raising from their lacquered gloom Old keepsakes, tokens of undying love, A golden hair-pin, an enamel brooch, She bids him bear them to her lord. One-half The hair-pin still she keeps, one-half the brooch, Breaking with her dim hands the yellow gold, Sundering the enamel. "Tell my lord," She murmured, "to be firm of heart as this Gold and enamel; then, in heaven or earth, Below, we twain may meet once more." At parting She gave a thousand messages of love, Among the rest recalled a mutual pledge, How on the seventh day of the seventh moon, Within the Hall of Immortality At midnight, whispering, when none were near, Low in her ear, he breathed, "I swear that we, Like to the one-winged birds, will ever fly, Or grow united as the tree whose boughs Are interwoven. Heaven and earth shall fall, Long lasting as they are. But this great wrong Shall stretch from end to end the universe, And shine beyond the ruin of the stars." $(Ennui)$ Tired of pale languors and the painted smile, His Majesty the Son of Heaven, long time A slave of beauty, ardently desired The glance that brings an Empire’s overthrow. $(Beauty)$ From the Yang family a maiden came, Glowing to womanhood a rose aflame, Reared in the inner sanctuary apart, Lost to the world, resistless to the heart; For beauty such as hers was hard to hide, And so, when summoned to the monarch’s side, Her flashing eye and merry laugh had power To charm into pure gold the leaden hour; And through the paint and powder of the court All gathered to the sunshine that she brought. In spring, by the Imperial command, The waters of Hua‘ch‘ing beheld her stand, Laving her body in the crystal wave Whose dimpled fount a warmth perennial gave. Then when, her girls attending, forth she came, A reed in motion and a rose in flame, An empire passed into a maid’s control, And with her eyes she won a monarch’s soul. $(Revelry)$ Hair of cloud o’er face of flower, Nodding plumes where she alights, In the white hibiscus bower She lingers through the soft spring nights— Nights too short, though wearing late Till the mimosa days are born. Never more affairs of State Wake them in the early morn. Wine-stained moments on the wing, Moonlit hours go luting by, She who leads the flight of Spring Leads the midnight revelry. Flawless beauties, thousands three, Deck the Imperial harem, Yet the monarch’s eyes may see Only one, and one supreme. Goddess in a golden hall, Fairest maids around her gleam, Wine-fumes of the festival Daily waft her into dream. Smiles she, and her sires are lords, Noble rank her brothers win: Ah, the ominous awards Showered upon her kith and kin! For throughout the land there runs Thought of peril, thought of fire; Men rejoice not in their sons— Daughters are their sole desire. In the gorgeous palaces, Piercing the grey skies above, Music on the languid breeze Draws the dreaming world to love. Song and dance and hands that sway The passion of a thousand lyres Ever through the live-long day, And the monarch never tires. Sudden comes the answer curt, Loud the fish-skin war-drums roar; Cease the plaintive “rainbow skirt”: Death is drumming at the door. $(Flight)$ Clouds upon clouds of dust enveloping The lofty gates of the proud capital. On, on, to the south-west, a living wall, Ten thousand battle-chariots on the wing. Feathers and jewels flashing through the cloud Onwards, and then an halt. The legions wait A hundred li beyond the western gate; The great walls loom behind them wrapt in cloud. No further stirs the sullen soldiery, Naught but the last dread office can avail, Till she of the dark moth-eyebrows, lily pale, Shines through tall avenues of spears to die. Upon the ground lie ornaments of gold, One with the dust, and none to gather them, Hair-pins of jade and many a costly gem, Kingfishers’ wings and golden birds scarce cold. The king has sought the darkness of his hands, Veiling the eyes that looked for help in vain, And as he turns to gaze upon the slain, His tears, her blood, are mingled on the sands $(Exile)$ Across great plains of yellow sand, Where the whistling winds are blown, Over the cloud-topped mountain peaks, They wend their way alone. Few are the pilgrims that attain Mount Omi’s heights afar; And the bright gleam of their standard grows Faint as the last pale star. Dark the Ssŭch‘uan waters loom, Dark the Ssŭch‘uan hills, And day and night the monarch’s life An endless sorrow fills. The brightness of the foreign moon Saddens his lonely heart; And a sound of a bell in the evening rain Doth rend his soul apart. $(Return)$ The days go by, and once again, Among the shadows of his pain, He lingers at the well-known place That holds the memory of her face. But from the clouds of earth that lie Beneath the foot of tall Ma-wei No signs of her dim form appear, Only the place of death is here. Statesman’s and monarch’s eyes have met, And royal robes with tears are wet; Then eastward flies the frantic steed As on to the Red Wall they speed. $(Home)$ There is the pool, the flowers as of old, There the hibiscus at the gates of gold, And there the willows round the palace rise. In the hibiscus flower he sees her face, Her eyebrows in the willow he can trace, And silken pansies thrill him with her eyes. How in this presence should his tears not come, In spring amid the bloom of peach and plum, In autumn rains when the wut‘ung leaves must fall? South of the western palace many trees Shower their dead leaves upon the terraces, And not a hand to stir their crimson pall. Ye minstrels of the Garden of the Pear, Grief with the touch of age has blanched your hair. Ye guardians of the Pepper Chamber, now No longer young to him, the firefly flits Through the black hall where, lost to love, he sits, Folding the veil of sorrows round his brow, Alone, and one by one the lanterns die, Sleep with the lily hands has passed him by, Slowly the watches of the night are gone, For now, alas! the nights are all too long, And shine the stars, a silver, mocking throng, As though the dawn were dead or slumbered on. Cold settles on the painted duck and drake, The frost a ghostly tapestry doth make, Chill the kingfisher’s quilt with none to share. Parted by life and death; the ebb and flow Of night and day over his spirit go; He hunts her face in dreams, and finds despair. $(Spirit-Land)$ A priest of Tao, one of the Hung-tu school, Was able by his magic to compel The spirits of the dead. So to relieve The sorrows of his king, the man of Tao Receives an urgent summons. Borne aloft Upon the clouds, on ether charioted, He flies with speed of lightning. High to heaven, Low down to earth, he, seeking everywhere, Floats on the far empyrean, and below The yellow springs; but nowhere in great space Can he find aught of her. At length he hears An old-world tale: an Island of the Blest— So runs the legend—in mid-ocean lies In realms of blue vacuity, too faint To be descried; there gaily coloured towers Rise up like rainbow clouds, and many gentle And beautiful Immortals pass their days In peace. Among them there is one whose name Sounds upon lips as Eternal. By the bloom Of her white skin and flower-like face he knows That this is she. Knocking at the jade door At the western gate of the golden house, he bids A fair maid breathe his name to one more fair Than all. She, hearing of this embassy Sent by the Son of Heaven, starts from her dreams Among the tapestry curtains. Gathering Her robes around her, letting the pillow fall, She, risen in haste, begins to deck herself With pearls and gems. Her cloud-like hair, dis-hevelled, Betrays the nearness of her sleep. And with the droop Of her flowery plumes in disarray, she floats Light through the hall. The sleeves of her divine Raiment the breezes fill. As once again To the Rainbow Skirt and Feather Jacket air She seems to dance, her face is fixed and calm, Though many tear-drops on an almond bough Fall, and recall the rains of spring. Subdued Her wild emotions and restrained her grief, She tenders thanks unto his Majesty, Saying how since they parted she has missed His form and voice; how, though their love had reached Too soon its earthly limit, yet among The blest a multitude of mellow noons Remain ungathered. Turning now, she leans Toward the land of the living, and in vain Would find the Imperial city, lost in the dust And haze. Then raising from their lacquered gloom Old keepsakes, tokens of undying love, A golden hair-pin, an enamel brooch, She bids him bear them to her lord. One-half The hair-pin still she keeps, one-half the brooch, Breaking with her dim hands the yellow gold, Sundering the enamel. “Tell my lord,” She murmured, “to be firm of heart as this Gold and enamel; then, in heaven or earth, Below, we twain may meet once more.” At parting She gave a thousand messages of love, Among the rest recalled a mutual pledge, How on the seventh day of the seventh moon, Within the Hall of Immortality At midnight, whispering, when none were near, Low in her ear, he breathed, “I swear that we, Like to the one-winged birds, will ever fly, Or grow united as the tree whose boughs Are interwoven. Heaven and earth shall fall, Long lasting as they are. But this great wrong Shall stretch from end to end the universe, And shine beyond the ruin of the stars.” China's Emperor, craving beauty that might shake an empire, Was on the throne for many years, searching, never finding, Till a little child of the Yang clan, hardly even grown, Bred in an inner chamber, with no one knowing her, But with graces granted by heaven and not to be concealed, At last one day was chosen for the imperial household. If she but turned her head and smiled, there were cast a hundred spells, And the powder and paint of the Six Palaces faded into nothing. ... It was early spring. They bathed her in the Flower-Pure Pool, Which warmed and smoothed the creamy-tinted crystal of her skin, And, because of her languor, a maid was lifting her When first the Emperor noticed her and chose her for his bride. The cloud of her hair, petal of her cheek, gold ripples of her crown when she moved, Were sheltered on spring evenings by warm hibiscus-curtains; But nights of spring were short and the sun arose too soon, And the Emperor, from that time forth, forsook his early hearings And lavished all his time on her with feasts and revelry, His mistress of the spring, his despot of the night. There were other ladies in his court, three thousand of rare beauty, But his favours to three thousand were concentered in one body. By the time she was dressed in her Golden Chamber, it would be almost evening; And when tables were cleared in the Tower of Jade, she would loiter, slow with wine. Her sisters and her brothers all were given titles; And, because she so illumined and glorified her clan, She brought to every father, every mother through the empire, Happiness when a girl was born rather than a boy. ... High rose Li Palace, entering blue clouds, And far and wide the breezes carried magical notes Of soft song and slow dance, of string and bamboo music. The Emperor's eyes could never gaze on her enough— Till war-drums, booming from Yü-yang, shocked the whole earth And broke the tunes of The Rainbow Skirt and the Feathered Coat. The Forbidden City, the nine-tiered palace, loomed in the dust From thousands of horses and chariots headed southwest. The imperial flag opened the way, now moving and now pausing— But thirty miles from the capital, beyond the western gate, The men of the army stopped, not one of them would stir Till under their horses' hoofs they might trample those moth-eyebrows ... Flowery hairpins fell to the ground, no one picked them up, And a green and white jade hair-tassel and a yellow-gold hair-bird. The Emperor could not save her, he could only cover his face. And later when he turned to look, the place of blood and tears Was hidden in a yellow dust blown by a cold wind. ... At the cleft of the Dagger-Tower Trail they criss-crossed through a cloud-line Under O-mêi Mountain. The last few came. Flags and banners lost their colour in the fading sunlight ... But as waters of Shu are always green and its mountains always blue, So changeless was His Majesty's love and deeper than the days. He stared at the desolate moon from his temporary palace. He heard bell-notes in the evening rain, cutting at his breast. And when heaven and earth resumed their round and the dragon-car faced home, The Emperor clung to the spot and would not turn away From the soil along the Ma-wêi slope, under which was buried That memory, that anguish. Where was her jade-white face? Ruler and lords, when eyes would meet, wept upon their coats As they rode, with loose rein, slowly eastward, back to the capital. ... The pools, the gardens, the palace, all were just as before, The Lake T'ai-yi hibiscus, the Wêi-yang Palace willows; But a petal was like her face and a willow-leaf her eyebrow— And what could he do but cry whenever he looked at them? ... Peach-trees and plum-trees blossomed, in the winds of spring; Lakka-foliage fell to the ground, after autumn rains; The Western and Southern Palaces were littered with late grasses, And the steps were mounded with red leaves that no one swept away. Her Pear-Garden Players became white-haired And the eunuchs thin-eyebrowed in her Court of Pepper-Trees; Over the throne flew fire-flies, while he brooded in the twilight. He would lengthen the lamp-wick to its end and still could never sleep. Bell and drum would slowly toll the dragging night-hours And the River of Stars grow sharp in the sky, just before dawn, And the porcelain mandarin-ducks on the roof grow thick with morning frost And his covers of kingfisher-blue feel lonelier and colder With the distance between life and death year after year; And yet no beloved spirit ever visited his dreams. ... At Ling-ch'ün lived a Taoist priest who was a guest of heaven, Able to summon spirits by his concentrated mind. And people were so moved by the Emperor's constant brooding That they besought the Taoist priest to see if he could find her. He opened his way in space and clove the ether like lightning, Up to heaven, under the earth, looking everywhere. Above, he searched the Green Void, below, the Yellow Spring; But he failed, in either place, to find the one he looked for. And then he heard accounts of an enchanted isle at sea, A part of the intangible and incorporeal world, With pavilions and fine towers in the five-coloured air, And of exquisite immortals moving to and fro, And of one among them—whom they called The Ever True— With a face of snow and flowers resembling hers he sought. So he went to the West Hall's gate of gold and knocked at the jasper door And asked a girl, called Morsel-of-Jade, to tell The Doubly-Perfect. And the lady, at news of an envoy from the Emperor of China, Was startled out of dreams in her nine-flowered canopy. She pushed aside her pillow, dressed, shook away sleep, And opened the pearly shade and then the silver screen. Her cloudy hair-dress hung on one side because of her great haste, And her flower-cap was loose when she came along the terrace, While a light wind filled her cloak and fluttered with her motion As though she danced The Rainbow Skirt and the Feathered Coat. And the tear-drops drifting down her sad white face Were like a rain in spring on the blossom of the pear. But love glowed deep within her eyes when she bade him thank her liege, Whose form and voice had been strange to her ever since their parting— Since happiness had ended at the Court of the Bright Sun, And moons and dawns had become long in Fairy-Mountain Palace. But when she turned her face and looked down toward the earth And tried to see the capital, there were only fog and dust. So she took out, with emotion, the pledges he had given. And, through his envoy, sent him back a shell box and gold hairpin, But kept one branch of the hairpin and one side of the box, Breaking the gold of the hairpin, breaking the shell of the box; "Our souls belong together," she said, "like this gold and this shell— Somewhere, sometime, on earth or in heaven, we shall surely meet." And she sent him, by his messenger, a sentence reminding him Of vows which had been known only to their two hearts: "On the seventh day of the Seventh-month, in the Palace of Long Life, We told each other secretly in the quiet midnight world That we wished to fly in heaven, two birds with the wings of one, And to grow together on the earth, two branches of one tree." ... Earth endures, heaven endures; some time both shall end, While this unending sorrow goes on and on for ever. The Lord of Han loved beauty; in love's desire he pined. For years within his palace Such love he could not find. A maiden in the house of Yang To wedlock's age had grown. Brought up within the harem, And to the world unknown. A lovely form of Heaven's mould Is never cast aside. And so this maid was chosen To be a Prince's bride. If she but turned her smiling, A hundred loves were born. There are no arts, no graces, But by her looked forlorn. 'Twas in the chilly Springtime, They bathed in Hua-ch'ing Lake; And in the tepid waters The crusted winter slake. When thence attendants bore her, So helpless and so fair; Then first beat in her Prince's breast Desire and tender care. With cloud-like hair and flower-like face Her tinkling footsteps ring. How warm in her pure curtains To pass a night of Spring! The nights of Spring are short, alas! Too soon the sun-lit dawn! From then no longer held the Prince His Court at early morn. But steeped in love, at banquet's side, No other business knew. One Spring behind another came. One night the next renew. Although within his palace Three thousand beauties dwelt, His love for these three thousand Did on one bosom melt. When dressed, in secret chamber Her beauty served the night. In gilded hall, the banquet done, The wine brought love's delight. Her brothers and her sisters Were ranked on steps of fame. And all her humble cottage Was lit with honour's flame. Until throughout the Empire All parents hailed with joy The birth of some fair maiden; And wanted not a boy. The lofty palace balconies Amid blue clouds abide, Their fairy storm of sweet delights Goes echoing far and wide. 'Twas wanton song, lascivious dance, And stringèd music's fire. The whole day long the Emperor gazed, And never seemed to tire. When like an earthquake came the boom Of drums and war's alarms, To shatter that sweet rainbow song Of Beauty in Love's arms. The clouds of dust rolled gloomily About the palace doors, As chariots, troops of horsemen, Went westward to the wars. That lady fair would go with him. And then she stayed again. At last she came for forty miles; And lodged her on the plain. Alas! the armies will not start. No hope is there at all, Till those persuasive eyebrows Before the chargers fall. Her ornaments the earth receives; Neglected there they lie. Her feathers, golden hair clasp, And pins her blood stains dye. Her Lord now cannot rescue. His mantle hides his face. With that last look the tears of blood In trickling sorrow race. The yellow dust is scattered wide, And desolate the wind, As up a spiral bridge of cloud She leaves the earth behind. Below great O-mi Mountain But rarely people go; And dimly falls the sunlight; And dull the banners flow. Are green the streams of Szechuen; And verdant Szechuen's hills. Yet morn by morn and night by night What grief his bosom fills! When from his tent the Moon he sees, His breast is charged with woe. The rain of night, the watches' bell, Like torments through him go. But loud rebellion's din resounds. He to his chariot fares. With steps unequal came he there; And halting thence repairs. Beneath the slope of Ma-wei, And hidden in the soil, He cannot see that lovely face That death has made its spoil. The Prince gazed on his Ministers. Their tears together flow. They eastward saw the city; And turned their steeds to go. Her lake, her garden still were there; Unchangèd were they all: The lotus in the T'ai-yeh Lake, The willow by the hall. The lotus seemed her face to be. Her brows the willows seem. The sight of them made gush again His tears in bitter stream. When plum and peach the spring renewed, And blossoms opened well; When wu-tung leaves in autumn rain Before the breezes fell, Within the courts unheeded grew And rank the autumn grass; And all the steps were red with leaves, Ne'er swept for him to pass. The tresses of her comrades Were newly streaked with grey. The eunuchs of her palace And women pined away. The firefly flitting through the room Her spirit seemed to be; The whole wick of his lamp he trimmed, Yet sleep his eyes would flee. How slowly through the dreary night The bell the watches tolled. How sleepless blinked the Milky Way, Ere dawn the light unrolled! When chill the roof where true love dwelt, How thick the frost flakes form! When cold the halcyon's coverlet, Who then can make it warm? In dreary gloom his life wore on; And years have passed, I deem; But never yet her spirit came To soothe him in a dream. By chance there came a wandering priest, Was steeped in magic lore, And skilled to call the spirit home That dwelt on Pluto's shore. In pity for the Prince's grief, That never let him rest, He Fang-Shih sent to seek her; And bade him do his best. The driving power of air he fixed, Like lightning thence he flew. The highest heaven, the lowest earth He searchèd through and through. Above he searched the azure vault, The yellow Styx below; Both stretched in gloomy emptiness, Nor traces of her show. And then he learnt that on the sea There was a fairy hill. It stood upon the void obscure, That glamour covers still. Fair, glinting, high its turrets rose, And spanned with rainbow hair; Where many fairies stood about, So modestly and fair. And one among them, T'ai-chen called, Than all the rest more rare, So whtie her skin, so sweet her face, None could with her compare. He knocked him on the fairy door, The palace western hall; And bade the young attendants That lady fair to call. And when she heard that tidings From Han Huang waited by, From out the silken curtains Her dream did swiftly fly. She thrust aside the pillow; Her garments hurried on; And through the rich-set doorway Her wav'ring steps have gone. Her cloud-like hair hung all awry, So fresh from sleep the dame. With coronal all slanted, Into the hall she came. Her fairy sleeves the wind blew up, They floated on the air. Like rainbows seemed her raiment. Like wings her garment fair. Her lovely face looked wist and sad, And tears were in her eyes. She seemed a sweet plum blossom Where spring rain pearling lies. Her heart she stilled: her glances veiled; And thanked her Emperor's care. "My voice,"she said, "since parting, My face my sorrows wear. "In Chao-yang Court my love remains. It knows no other sway. Through palaces of Fairyland But slowly drags the day. "When I would turn my head to view The world of men below, I never can see Ch'ang-an; So thick the mist wreaths flow. "But take the former things I had, To show my love how true. This ornament and golden pin To take him, give I you. "One half this golden pin I keep, Now broken in my grasp. The other half to him I send, With half this golden clasp. "And tell him that my heart is fixed, As true as is the gold. In heaven mortals meet again. I wait him purely bold.'' The messenger was going thence He asked one word again. "There is one thing," she said to him, "Known only to us twain. "The seventh moon, the seventh day We stood in Ch'ang-sheng Hall. 'Twas night, and none beside us. We two were all in all. "We swore that in the heaven above We never would dispart: One tomb on earth enclose of us The frail and mortal part." The heaven is vast; and earth is old; And Time will wear away. But this their endless sorrow Shall never know decay. The Lord of Han loved beauty; in love's desire he pined. For years within his palace Such love he could not find. A maiden in the house of Yang To wedlock's age had grown. Brought up within the harem, And to the world unknown. A lovely form of Heaven's mould Is never cast aside. And so this maid was chosen To be a Prince's bride. If she but turned her smiling, A hundred loves were born. There are no arts, no graces, But by her looked forlorn. 'Twas in the chilly Springtime, They bathed in Hua-ch'ing Lake; And in the tepid waters The crusted winter slake. When thence attendants bore her, So helpless and so fair; Then first beat in her Prince's breast Desire and tender care. With cloud-like hair and flower-like face Her tinkling footsteps ring. How warm in her pure curtains To pass a night of Spring! The nights of Spring are short, alas! Too soon the sun-lit dawn! From then no longer held the Prince His Court at early morn. But steeped in love, at banquet's side, No other business knew. One Spring behind another came. One night the next renew. Although within his palace Three thousand beauties dwelt, His love for these three thousand Did on one bosom melt. When dressed, in secret chamber Her beauty served the night. In gilded hall, the banquet done, The wine brought love's delight. Her brothers and her sisters Were ranked on steps of fame. And all her humble cottage Was lit with honour's flame. Until throughout the Empire All parents hailed with joy The birth of some fair maiden; And wanted not a boy. The lofty palace balconies Amid blue clouds abide, Their fairy storm of sweet delights Goes echoing far and wide. 'Twas wanton song, lascivious dance, And stringèd music's fire. The whole day long the Emperor gazed, And never seemed to tire. When like an earthquake came the boom Of drums and war's alarms, To shatter that sweet rainbow song Of Beauty in Love's arms. The clouds of dust rolled gloomily About the palace doors, As chariots, troops of horsemen, Went westward to the wars. That lady fair would go with him. And then she stayed again. At last she came for forty miles; And lodged her on the plain. Alas! the armies will not start. No hope is there at all, Till those persuasive eyebrows Before the chargers fall. Her ornaments the earth receives; Neglected there they lie. Her feathers, golden hair clasp, And pins her blood stains dye. Her Lord now cannot rescue. His mantle hides his face. With that last look the tears of blood In trickling sorrow race. The yellow dust is scattered wide, And desolate the wind, As up a spiral bridge of cloud She leaves the earth behind. Below great O-mi Mountain But rarely people go; And dimly falls the sunlight; And dull the banners flow. Are green the streams of Szechuen; And verdant Szechuen's hills. Yet morn by morn and night by night What grief his bosom fills! When from his tent the Moon he sees, His breast is charged with woe. The rain of night, the watches' bell, Like torments through him go. But loud rebellion's din resounds. He to his chariot fares. With steps unequal came he there; And halting thence repairs. Beneath the slope of Ma-wei, And hidden in the soil, He cannot see that lovely face That death has made its spoil. The Prince gazed on his Ministers. Their tears together flow. They eastward saw the city; And turned their steeds to go. Her lake, her garden still were there; Unchangèd were they all: The lotus in the T'ai-yeh Lake, The willow by the hall. The lotus seemed her face to be. Her brows the willows seem. The sight of them made gush again His tears in bitter stream. When plum and peach the spring renewed, And blossoms opened well; When wu-tung leaves in autumn rain Before the breezes fell, Within the courts unheeded grew And rank the autumn grass; And all the steps were red with leaves, Ne'er swept for him to pass. The tresses of her comrades Were newly streaked with grey. The eunuchs of her palace And women pined away. The firefly flitting through the room Her spirit seemed to be; The whole wick of his lamp he trimmed, Yet sleep his eyes would flee. How slowly through the dreary night The bell the watches tolled. How sleepless blinked the Milky Way, Ere dawn the light unrolled! When chill the roof where true love dwelt, How thick the frost flakes form! When cold the halcyon's coverlet, Who then can make it warm? In dreary gloom his life wore on; And years have passed, I deem; But never yet her spirit came To soothe him in a dream. By chance there came a wandering priest, Was steeped in magic lore, And skilled to call the spirit home That dwelt on Pluto's shore. In pity for the Prince's grief, That never let him rest, He Fang-Shih sent to seek her; And bade him do his best. The driving power of air he fixed, Like lightning thence he flew. The highest heaven, the lowest earth He searchèd through and through. Above he searched the azure vault, The yellow Styx below; Both stretched in gloomy emptiness, Nor traces of her show. And then he learnt that on the sea There was a fairy hill. It stood upon the void obscure, That glamour covers still. Fair, glinting, high its turrets rose, And spanned with rainbow hair; Where many fairies stood about, So modestly and fair. And one among them, T'ai-chen called, Than all the rest more rare, So whtie her skin, so sweet her face, None could with her compare. He knocked him on the fairy door, The palace western hall; And bade the young attendants That lady fair to call. And when she heard that tidings From Han Huang waited by, From out the silken curtains Her dream did swiftly fly. She thrust aside the pillow; Her garments hurried on; And through the rich-set doorway Her wav'ring steps have gone. Her cloud-like hair hung all awry, So fresh from sleep the dame. With coronal all slanted, Into the hall she came. Her fairy sleeves the wind blew up, They floated on the air. Like rainbows seemed her raiment. Like wings her garment fair. Her lovely face looked wist and sad, And tears were in her eyes. She seemed a sweet plum blossom Where spring rain pearling lies. Her heart she stilled: her glances veiled; And thanked her Emperor's care. "My voice,"she said, "since parting, My face my sorrows wear. "In Chao-yang Court my love remains. It knows no other sway. Through palaces of Fairyland But slowly drags the day. "When I would turn my head to view The world of men below, I never can see Ch'ang-an; So thick the mist wreaths flow. "But take the former things I had, To show my love how true. This ornament and golden pin To take him, give I you. "One half this golden pin I keep, Now broken in my grasp. The other half to him I send, With half this golden clasp. "And tell him that my heart is fixed, As true as is the gold. In heaven mortals meet again. I wait him purely bold.'' The messenger was going thence He asked one word again. "There is one thing," she said to him, "Known only to us twain. "The seventh moon, the seventh day We stood in Ch'ang-sheng Hall. 'Twas night, and none beside us. We two were all in all. "We swore that in the heaven above We never would dispart: One tomb on earth enclose of us The frail and mortal part." The heaven is vast; and earth is old; And Time will wear away. But this their endless sorrow Shall never know decay. The beauty-loving monarch longed year after year To find a beautiful lady without a peer. A maiden of the Yangs to womanhood just grown, In inner chambers bred, to the world was unknown. Endowed with natural beauty too hard to hide, One day she stood selected for the monarch's side. Turning her head, she smiled so sweet and full of grace That she outshone in six palaces the fairest face. She bathed in glassy water of warm-fountain pool Which laved and smoothed her creamy skin when spring was cool. Upborne by her attendants, she rose too faint to move. And this was when she first received the monarch's love. Flower like face and cloud-like hair, golden headdressed, In lotus-adorned curtain she spent the night blessed. She slept till sun rose high for the blessed night was short, From then on the monarch held no longer morning court. In revels as in feasts she shared her lord's delight, His companion on trips and his mistress at night. In inner palace dwelt three thousand ladies fair, On her alone was lavished royal love and care. Her beauty served the night when dressed in Golden Bower, She was drunk with wine and spring at banquet in Jade Tower. Her sisters and brothers all received rank and fief And honors showered on her household, to the grief Of fathers and mothers who would rather give birth To a fair maiden than to any son on earth. The lofty palace towered high into blue cloud, With divine music borne on the breeze, the air was loud. Seeing slow dance and hearing fluted or stringed song, The emperor was never tired all the day long. But rebels beat their war drums, making the earth quake. And Song of Rainbow Skirt and Coat of Feathers break. A cloud of dust was raised o'er city walls nine-fold: Thousands of chariots and horsemen southwestward rolled. Imperial flags moved slowly now and halted then, And thirty miles from Western Gate they stopped again. Six armies would not march – what could be done? – with speed Until the Lady Yang was killed before the steed. None would pick up her hairpin fallen to the ground Or golden bird and comb with which her head was crowned. The monarch could not save her, hid his face in fear, Turning his head, he saw her blood mix with his tear. The yellow dust spread wide, the wind blew desolate, A serpentine plank path led to cloud-capped Sword Gate. Below the Eyebrows Mountains wayfarers were few, In fading sunlight royal standards lost their hue. On Western waters blue and Western mountains green, The monarch's heart was daily gnawed by sorrow keen. The moon viewed from his tent shed a soul-searing light; The bells heard in night rain made a heart-rending sound. Suddenly turned the tide. Returning from his flight, The monarch could not tear himself away from the ground Where 'mid the clods beneath the Slope he couldn't forget The fair-faced lady Yang who was unfairly slain. He looked at his courtiers, with tears his robe was wet, They rode east to the capital, but with loose rein. Come back, he found her pond and garden in old place, With lotus in the lake and willows by the hall. Willow leaves like her brows and lotus like her face, At the sight of all these, how could his tears not fall Or when in vernal breeze were peach and plum full-blown Or when in autumn rain parasol leaves were shed? In Western as in Southern Court was grass o'ergrown, With fallen leaves unswept the marble steps turned red. Actors, although still young, began to have hair gray; Eunuchs and waiting-maids look'd old in palace deep. Fireflies flitting the hall, mutely he pined away, The lonely lamp-wick burned out, still he could not sleep. Slowly beat drums and rang bells, night began to grow long; Bright shone the Milky Way, daybreak seemed to come late. The love-bird tiles grew chilly with hoar frost so strong; His kingfisher quilt was cold, not shared by a mate. One long, long year the dead and the living were parted, Her soul came not in dreams to see the broken-hearted. A Taoist magician came to the palace door, Skilled to summon the spirit from the other shore. Moved by the monarch's yearning for the departed fair, He was ordered to seek for her everywhere. Borne on the air, like flash of lightning he flew, In heaven and on earth he searched through and through. Up to the azure vault and down to deepest place, Nor above nor below could he e'er find her trace. He learned that on the sea were fairy mountains proud Which now appeared, now disappeared amid the cloud Of rainbow colors, where rose magnificent bowers And dwelt so many fairies as graceful as flowers. Among them was a queen whose nane was "'Ever True", Her snow-white skin and sweet face might afford a clue. Knocking at western gate of palace hall, he bade The porter fair to inform the queen's waiting-maid. When she heard that there came the monarch's embassy, The queen was startled out of dreams in her canopy. Pushing acide the pillow, she rose and got dressed, Passing through silver screen and pearl shade to meet the guest. Her cloud-like hair awry, not full awake at all, Her flowery cap slant'd, she came into the hall. The wind blew up her fairy sleeves and made them float As if she danced the "Rainbow Skirt and Feathered Coat", Her jade-white face criss-crossed with tears in lonely world Like a spray of pear blossoms in spring rain impearled. She bade him thank her lord, love-sick and broken-hearted, They knew nothing of each other after they parted. Love and happiness long end'd within palace walls; Days and months appeared long in the Fairyland halls. Turning her head and fixing on the earth her gaze, She saw not Changan 'mid the clouds of dust and haze, To show her love was deep, she took out keepsakes old For him to carry back, hairpin and case of gold. Keeping one side of the case and one wing of the pin, She sent to her lord the other half of the twin. "'If our two hearts as firm as the gold should remain, In heaven or on earth we'll some time meet again." At parting, she confided to the messenger A secret vow known only to her lord and her. On seventh day of seventh month when none was near, At midnight in Long Life Hall he whispered in her ear: "On high, we'd be two love-birds flying wing to wing; On earth, two trees with branches twined from spring to spring." The boundless sky and endless earth may pass away, But this vow unfulfilled will be regrett'd for aye. |
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