In whom the virtues all combine.

The _t[']ung_ and _e_ their fruits display,
Pendant from every graceful spray.
My guests are joyous and serene,
No haggard eye, no ruffled mien.

BOOK III

_The Decade of T[']ung Kung_

CELEBRATING A HUNTING EXPEDITION

Our chariots were well-built and firm,
Well-matched our steeds, and fleet and strong.
Four, sleek and large, each chariot drew,
And eastward thus we drove along.

Our hunting cars were light and good,
Each with its team of noble steeds.
Still further east we took the way
To Foo-mere's grassy plains that leads.

Loud-voiced, the masters of the chase
Arranged the huntsmen, high and low.
While banners streamed, and ox-tails flew,
We sought the prey on distant Gaou.

Each with full team, the princes came,
A lengthened train in bright array.
In gold-wrought slippers, knee-caps red,
They looked as on an audience day.

Each right thumb wore the metal guard;
On the left arm its shield was bound.
In unison the arrows flew;
The game lay piled upon the ground.

The leaders of the tawny teams
Sped on their course, direct and true.
The drivers perfect skill displayed;
Like blow well aimed each arrow flew.

Neighing and pleased, the steeds returned;
The bannered lines back slowly came.
No jostling rude disgraced the crowd;
The king declined large share of game.

So did this famous hunt proceed!
So free it was from clamorous sound!
Well does our King become his place,
And high the deeds his reign have crowned!

THE KING'S ANXIETY FOR HIS MORNING LEVEE

How goes the night? For heavy morning sleep
Ill suits the king who men would loyal keep.
The courtyard, ruddy with the torch's light,
Proclaims unspent the deepest hour of night.
Already near the gate my lords appear;
Their tinkling bells salute my wakeful ear.

How goes the night? I may not slumber on.
Although not yet the night is wholly gone,
The paling torch-light in the court below
Gives token that the hours swift-footed go.
Already at the gate my lords appear;
Their tinkling bells with measured sound draw near.

How goes the night? I may not slumber now.
The darkness smiles with morning on its brow.
The courtyard torch no more gives forth its ray,