ar horse, stop your sad cries!
Sweet Su, dry your bitter tears!
For you shall go back to your stall;
And you to the women's room.
For though I am ill indeed,
And though my years are at their close,
The doom of Hsiang Chi[3] has not befallen me yet.
Must I in a single day
Lose the horse I rode and the lady I loved?
Su, O Su!
Sing once again the Song of the Willow Branch!
And I will pour you wine in that golden cup
And take you with me to the Land of Drunkenness."_

[1] I.e., Po Chuu-i himself.

[2] I.e., performing the functions of a wife.

[3] Who, surrounded at the battle of Kai-hsia (202 B.C.), gave his horse
to a boatman, lest it should fall into the hands of the enemy.

[61] ILLNESS

[_Written circa 842, when he was paralyzed_]

Dear friends, there is no cause for so much sympathy.
I shall certainly manage from time to time to take my walks abroad.
All that matters is an active mind, what is the use of feet?
By land one can ride in a carrying-chair; by water, be rowed in a boat.

[62] RESIGNATION

Keep off your thoughts from things that are past and done;
For thinking of the past wakes regret and pain.
Keep off your thoughts from thinking what will happen;
To think of the future fills one with dismay.
Better by day to sit like a sack in your chair;
Better by night to lie a stone in your bed.
When food comes, then open your mouth;
When sleep comes, then close your eyes.

YUUAN CHEN

[_A.D. 799-831_]

[63] THE STORY OF TS`UI YING-YING

During the Cheng1-Yuuan[1] period of the T`ang dynasty there lived a
man called Chang.[2] His nature was gentle and refined, and his person
of great beauty. But his deeper feelings were resolutely held in
restraint, and he would indulge in no license. Sometimes his friends
took him to a party and he would try to join their frolics; but when the
rest were shouting and scuffling their hardest, Chang only pretended to
take his share. For he could never overcome his shyness. So it came
about that though already twenty-three, he had not yet enjoyed a woman's
beauty. To those who questioned him he answered, "It is not such as
Master Teng1-t'u[3] who are true lovers of beauty; for they are merely
profligates. I consider myself a lover of beauty, who happens never to
have met with it. And I am of this opinion because I know that, in other
things, wh