He ten thousand joys possesses,
And escapes each trouble rude.
Whoso into deed shall carry
Of the law each precept, he
Through all time alive shall tarry,
And from birth and death be free.
Foutsa, thou, who best of any
Know'st the truth of what I've told,
Spread the tale through regions, many
As the Ganges' sands of gold.
MORAL METAPHORS.
From the Chinese.
1.
From out the South the genial breezes sigh,
They shake the bramble branches to and fro,
Whose lovely green delights the gazer's eye--
A mother's thoughts are troubled even so.
From out the South the genial breezes move,
They shake the branches of the bramble-tree;
Unless the sons fair men and honest prove,
The virtuous mother will dishonor'd be.
The frigid fount with violence and spray
By Shiyoun's town upcasts its watery store;
Though full seven sons she give to life and day
The mother's heart is but disturb'd the more.
When sings the redbreast it is bliss to hear
The dulcet notes the little songster breeds;
But ah, more blissful to a mother's ear
The fair report of seven good children's deeds.
2.
Survey, survey Gi Shoi's murmuring flood!
How its bamboos with living green are gay;
Survey the great, illustrious and good--
How sculptur'd, polish'd and refin'd are they!
What elegance and majesty they bear!
What witchery lurketh in their voice and eyes;
View them but once, and whilst thou breath'st the air
Thou'lt ne'er forget the great, the good and wise.
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