No More Learning

Here again the relative merit
was very difficult to be decided at once. That of the right had
apparently more charms than that of the other, since it beautifully
represented the society of a more recent period.

Hei-Naishi, of the left, therefore said,

"If leaving the depths of Ise's night-sea,
We follow the fancies of new-fashioned dreams,
All the beauty and skill of the ancients will be
Swept away by the current of art's modern streams.

Who would run down the fame of Narihira for the sake of the
pretentious humbug of our own days? "

Then Daini-no-Naishi-no-Ske, of the right, replied,

"The noble mind that soars on high,
Beyond the star-bespangled sky;
Looks down with ease on depths that lie
A thousand fathoms 'neath his eye. "[130]

Upon this, the Empress-mother interceded. She said, that "The exalted
nobility of Lord Hioye[131] may not, indeed, be passed over without
notice, yet the name of Narihira could not altogether be eclipsed by
his.

Though too well-known to all may be
The lovely shore of Ise's sea;
Its aged fisher's honored name,
A tribute of respect may claim. "

There were several more rolls to be exhibited, and the rival
protestations on both sides became very warm, so that one roll
occasioned considerable discussion.

While this was going on, Genji arrived on the scene. He suggested to
them that if there was any competition at all it should be decided on
a specially appointed day, in a more solemn manner, in the presence of
the Emperor. This suggestion having been adopted, the discussion came
to an end.

The day for this purpose was fixed. The ex-Emperor, who had been
informed of this, presented several pictures to the lady of the
plum-chamber. They were mostly illustrations of Court Festivals, on
which there were explanatory remarks written by the Emperor Yenghi.
Besides these, there was one which had been expressly executed at his
own order by Kim-mochi. This was an illustration of the ceremony which
took place at his palace on the departure of the lady for Ise, some
time back, when she had gone there as the Saigu. It was also probable
that some of his pictures came into the possession of her rival, the
Lady Kokiden, through his mother (as the mother of the former was a
sister of the latter).

When the day arrived every arrangement was made in the large saloon at
the rear of the Palace, where the Imperial seat was placed at the top.
The Court ladies of both parties--those of the lady of the
plum-chamber, and those of the lady of Kokiden--were arranged
respectively left and right, the left, or those of the lady of the
plum-chamber, facing southwards, and those of the right, northwards.
All the courtiers also took the places allotted to them. Here the
pictures were brought. The box, containing those of the left was of
purple Azedarach. The stand on which the box was placed was of safran,
and over this was thrown a cover of Chinese brocade with a mauve
ground. The seat underneath was of Chinese colored silk. Six young
girls brought all this in, and arranged it all in order. Their Kazami
(outer dress) was of red and cherry color, with tunics of Wistaria
lining (light purple outside, and light green within).

The box which contained the pictures of the right was of "Jin" wood,
the stand of light colored "Jin," the cover of Corean silk with a
green ground. The legs of the stand, which were trellised round with a
silken cord, showed modern and artistic taste. The Kazami of the young
girls was of willow lining (white outside and green within), and their
tunics were of Kerria japonica lining (or yellow outside and light red
within). Both Genji and Gon-Chiunagon were present, by the Emperor's
special invitation, as also the Prince Lord-Lieutenant of Tzkushi who
loved pictures above all things, and he was consequently chosen umpire
for this day's competition. Many of the pictures were highly
admirable, and it was most difficult to make any preference between
them. For instance, if there was produced by one party a roll of "The
Season," which was the masterpiece of some old master, on selected
subjects; there was produced also, by the other party, a roll of
sketches on paper, which were scarcely inferior to, and more
ornamented with flourishing than the ancient works, in spite of the
necessary limitation of space which generally makes the wide expanse
of scenery almost too difficult to express. Thus the disputes on both
sides were very warm.

Meanwhile the Imperial-mother (the Princess Wistaria) also came into
the saloon, pushing aside the sliding screen of the breakfast chamber.
The criticisms still continued, in which Genji made, now and then,
suggestive remarks. Before all was finished the shades of evening
began to fall on them. There remained, on the right, one more roll,
when the roll of "Suma" was produced on the left. It made
Gon-Chiunagon slightly embarrassed. The last roll of the right was, of
course, a selected one, but it had several disadvantages in comparison
with that of "Suma. " The sketches on this roll had been done by Genji,
with great pains and time. They were illustrations of different bays
and shores. They were most skilfully executed, and carried away the
minds of the spectators to the actual spots. On them illustrative
remarks were written, sometimes in the shape of a diary, occasionally
mingled with poetical effusions in style both grave and easy. These
made a great impression on the Emperor, and on everyone present; and
finally, owing to this roll, the left was decided to have won the
victory.

Then followed the partaking of refreshments, as was usual on such
occasions. In the course of conversation, Genji remarked to the
Lord-Lieutenant, "From my boyhood I paid much attention to reading and
writing, and perhaps my father noticed that I had benefited by these
pursuits. He observed that 'few very clever men enjoyed worldly
happiness and long life'; perhaps because ability and knowledge are
too highly valued in the world to admit of other blessings. True it
is, that even a man whose high birth assures him a certain success in
life, ought not to be devoid of learning, but I advise you to moderate
your exertions. After this time, he took more pains in instructing me
in the ways and manners of men of high position than in the minute
details of science. For these reasons, though on the one hand I was
not quite clumsy, I cannot, on the other, say in what particular
subject I am well versed and efficient. Drawing, however, was a
favorite object of my taste and ambition, and I also desired to
execute a work to the full extent of my ideas. In the meantime, I
enjoyed quiet leisure by the sea-shore, and as I contemplated the wide
expanse of scenery, my conception seemed to enlarge as I gazed upon
it. This made me take up my brush, but not a few parts of the work
have fallen short of those conceptions. Therefore, I thought them
altogether unworthy to be shown expressly, though I have now boldly
submitted them to your inspection on this good opportunity. "

"Nothing can be well learned that is not agreeable to one's natural
taste," replied the Lord-Lieutenant. "It is true, but every art has
its special instructor, and by this means their methods can be copied
by their pupils, though there may be differences in skill and
perfection. Among arts, however, nothing betrays one's tastes and
nature more than work of pen or brush (writing and painting), and
playing the game of Go. Of course men of low origin, and of little
accomplishment, often happen to excel in these arts, but not so
frequently as persons of position. Under the auspicious care of the
late Emperor, what prince or princess could have failed to attain the
knowledge of such arts? a care which was directed towards yourself
especially. I will not speak of literature and learning too. Your
accomplishments comprised the _kin_, next the flute, the mandolin, and
_soh-koto_--this we all knew, and so, too, the late Emperor said: your
painting, however, has been hitherto thought to be mere amusement, but
we now have seen your sketches executed with a skill not unequal to
the ancient famous draughtsmen in black ink. "

It was about the twentieth of the month, and the evening moon appeared
in the sky, while they were thus conversing. Her radiance was too weak
to make the ground near them bright, but afar-off the sky became
palely white. Several musical instruments were sent for from the
guardian of the library. Genji played a _kin_, Gon-Chiunagon a
_wagon_, the Lord-Lieutenant a _soh-koto_, and Shioshio-no-Miobu a
mandolin. The _hioshi_ (beating time to music) was undertaken by a
courtier. As this went on, the darkness of night began to diminish,
and the hues of the flowers in the garden, and the countenance of each
of the party, became gradually visible, while the birds themselves
began to chirp in the trees. It was a pleasant dawn. Several presents
were made to the company by the Imperial-mother, and to the
Lord-Lieutenant a robe was given in addition, as an acknowledgment of
his services as judge in the competition. And so the party broke up.
The roll of "Suma" was left, as was requested, in the hands of the
Imperial-mother. Genji had some more rolls of the same series, but
they were reserved for some future occasion.

During the reign of this Emperor every care was taken on the occasion
of all Court Festivals, so that future generations should hold that
such and such precedents took their origin in this reign. Hence a
meeting even such as above described, which was only private in its
nature, was carried out in a manner as pleasant and enlightened as
possible.

As to Genji, he thought he had obtained a position too exalted, and an
influence too great. There were, indeed, several instances of public
men surprised by misfortune, who, in premature age, obtained high
position and vast influence. He thought of these examples, and though
he had hitherto enjoyed his position and authority, as if he regarded
them as a compensation for his former fall, he began, as the Emperor
was now becoming older, to retire gradually from public life, so as to
prepare his mind and thoughts, and devote himself to the attainment of
happiness in the world to come, and also for the prolongation of life.
For these reasons he ordered a chapel to be built for himself on a
mountain side, where he might retire. In the meantime he had the
ambition to see his children satisfactorily brought out into the
world--an ambition which restrained him from carrying out his wishes
of retiring.

It is not easy to understand or define the exact state of his mind at
this period.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 125: A short romance, supposed to be the oldest work of the
kind ever written in Japan, as the authoress states. The story is,
that once upon a time there was an aged man whose occupation was to
cut bamboo. One day he found a knot in a bamboo cane which was radiant
and shining, and upon cutting it he found in it a little girl who was
named Kakya-hime. He took her home and brought her up. She grew a
remarkable beauty. She had many suitors, but she refused to listen to
their addresses, and kept her maiden reputation unsullied. Finally, in
leaving this world, she ascended into the moon, from which she
professed to have originally come down. ]

[Footnote 126: This is another old romance, and Toshikage is its
principal hero. When twelve or thirteen years of age he was sent to
China, but the ship in which he was, being driven by a hurricane to
Persia, he met there with a mystic stranger, from whom he learned
secrets of the "Kin;" from thence he reached China, and afterwards
returned to Japan. ]

[Footnote 127: This man was one of the maiden's suitors. He was told
by her that if he could get for her the skin of the fire-proof rat she
might possibly accept his hand. With this object he gave a vast sum of
money to a Chinese merchant, who brought him what he professed to be
the skin of the fire-proof rat, but when it was put to the test, it
burnt away, and he lost his suit. ]

[Footnote 128: This Prince was another suitor of the maiden. His task
was to find a sacred island called Horai, and to get a branch of a
jewelled tree which grew in this island. He pretended to have embarked
for this purpose, but really concealed himself in an obscure place. He
had an artificial branch made by some goldsmith; but, of course, this
deception was at once detected. ]

[Footnote 129: Japanese pictures usually have explanatory notes
written on them. ]

[Footnote 130: It seems that this stanza alludes to some incident in
the Shio-Sammi, at the same time praising the picture. ]

[Footnote 131: This seems to be the name of the hero in the story
alluded to above. ]

* * * * *




CLASSICAL POETRY OF JAPAN

[_Selections translated by Basil Hall Chamberlain_]




INTRODUCTION


The poetry of a nation is always the best revealer of its genuine
life: the range of its spiritual as well as of its intellectual
outlook. This is the case even where poetry is imitative, for
imitation only pertains to the form of poetry, and not to its essence.
Vergil copied the metre and borrowed the phraseology of Homer, but is
never Homeric. In one sense, all national poetry is original, even
though it be shackled by rules of traditional prosody, and has adopted
the system of rhyme devised by writers in another language, whose
words seem naturally to bourgeon into assonant terminations. But
Japanese poetry is original in every sense of the term. Imitative as
the Japanese are, and borrowers from other nations in every department
of plastic, fictile, and pictorial art, as well as in religion,
politics, and manufactures, the poetry of Japan is a true-born flower
of the soil, unique in its mechanical structure, spontaneous and
unaffected in its sentiment and subject.

The present collection of Japanese poetry is compiled and translated
into English from what the Japanese call "The Collection of Myriad
Leaves," and from a number of other anthologies made by imperial
decree year by year from the tenth until the fifteenth century. This
was the golden age of Japanese literature, and nowadays, when poetry
is dead in Japan, and the people and their rulers are aiming at
nothing but the benefits of material civilization, these ancient
anthologies are drawn upon for vamping up and compiling what pass for
the current verses of the hour. The twenty volumes of the "Myriad
Leaves" were probably published first in the latter half of the eighth
century, in the reign of the Mikado Shiyaumu; the editor was Prince
Moroye, for in those days the cultivation of verse was especially
considered the privilege of the princely and aristocratic. A poem
written by a man of obscure rank was sometimes included in the royal
collections, but the name of the author never. And indeed some of the
distinctive quality of Japanese poetry is undoubtedly due to the air
in which it flourished. It is never religious, and it is often
immoral, but it is always suffused with a certain hue of courtliness,
even gentleness. The language is of the most refined delicacy, the
thought is never boorish or rude; there is the self-collectedness
which we find in the poetry of France and Italy during the
Renaissance, and in England during the reign of Queen Anne. It
exhibits the most exquisite polish, allied with an avoidance of every
shocking or perturbing theme. It seems to combine the enduring lustre
of a precious metal with the tenuity of gold-leaf. Even the most vivid
emotions of grief and love, as well as the horrors of war, were
banished from the Japanese Parnassus, where the Muse of Tragedy
warbles, and the lyric Muse utters nothing but ditties of exquisite
and melting sweetness, which soothe the ear, but never stir the heart:
while their meaning is often so obscure as even to elude the
understanding.

Allied to this polite reserve of the courtly poets of Japan is the
simplicity of their style, which is, doubtless, in a large measure,
due to the meagre range of spiritual faculties which characterize the
Japanese mind. This intellectual poverty manifests itself in the
absence of all personification and reference to abstract ideas. The
narrow world of the poet is here a concrete and literal sphere of
experience. He never rises on wings above the earth his feet are
treading, and the things around him that his fingers touch. But within
this limited area he revels in a great variety of subjects. In the
present anthology will be found ballads, love-songs, elegies, as well
as short stanzas composed with the strictest economy of word and
phrase. These we must characterize as epigrams. They are gems,
polished with almost passionless nicety and fastidious care. They
remind us very much of Roman poetry under the later Empire, and many
of them might have been written by Martial, at the court of Domitian.
They contain references to court doings, compliments, and sentiments
couched in pointed language. The drama of Japan is represented by two
types, one of which may be called lyrical, and the other the comedy of
real life. Specimens of both are found in the present collection,
which will furnish English readers with a very fair idea of what the
most interesting and enterprising of Oriental nations has done in the
domain of imaginative literature.

E. W.




BALLADS

THE FISHER-BOY URASHIMA


'Tis spring, and the mists come stealing
O'er Suminoye's shore,
And I stand by the seaside musing
On the days that are no more.

I muse on the old-world story,
As the boats glide to and fro,
Of the fisher-boy, Urashima,
Who a-fishing loved to go;

How he came not back to the village
Though sev'n suns had risen and set,
But rowed on past the bounds of ocean,
And the sea-god's daughter met;

How they pledged their faith to each other,
And came to the Evergreen Land,
And entered the sea-god's palace
So lovingly hand in hand,

To dwell for aye in that country,
The ocean-maiden and he--
The country where youth and beauty
Abide eternally.

But the foolish boy said, "To-morrow
I'll come back with thee to dwell;
But I have a word to my father,
A word to my mother to tell. "

The maiden answered, "A casket
I give into thine hand;
And if that thou hopest truly
To come back to the Evergreen Land,

"Then open it not, I charge thee!
Open it not, I beseech! "
So the boy rowed home o'er the billows
To Suminoye's beach.

But where is his native hamlet?
Strange hamlets line the strand.
Where is his mother's cottage?
Strange cots rise on either hand.

"What, in three short years since I left it,"
He cries in his wonder sore,
"Has the home of my childhood vanished?
Is the bamboo fence no more?

"Perchance if I open the casket
Which the maiden gave to me,
My home and the dear old village
Will come back as they used to be. "

And he lifts the lid, and there rises
A fleecy, silvery cloud,
That floats off to the Evergreen Country:--
And the fisher-boy cries aloud;

He waves the sleeve of his tunic,
He rolls over on the ground,
He dances with fury and horror,
Running wildly round and round. [132]

But a sudden chill comes o'er him
That bleaches his raven hair,
And furrows with hoary wrinkles
The form erst so young and fair.

His breath grows fainter and fainter,
Till at last he sinks dead on the shore;
And I gaze on the spot where his cottage
Once stood, but now stands no more.

_Anon_.




ON SEEING A DEAD BODY


Methinks from the hedge round the garden
His bride the fair hemp hath ta'en,
And woven the fleecy raiment
That ne'er he threw off him again.

For toilsome the journey he journeyed
To serve his liege and lord,[133]
Till the single belt that encircled him
Was changed to a thrice-wound cord;

And now, methinks, he was faring
Back home to the country-side,
With thoughts all full of his father,
Of his mother, and of his bride.

But here 'mid the eastern mountains,
Where the awful pass climbs their brow,
He halts on his onward journey
And builds him a dwelling low;

And here he lies stark in his garments,
Dishevelled his raven hair,
And ne'er can he tell me his birthplace,
Nor the name that he erst did bear.

_Sakimaro_.




THE MAIDEN OF UNAHI[134]


In Ashinoya village dwelt
The Maiden of Unahi,
On whose beauty the next-door neighbors e'en
Might cast no wandering eye;

For they locked her up as a child of eight,
When her hair hung loosely still;
And now her tresses were gathered up,
To float no more at will. [135]

And the men all yearned that her sweet face
Might once more stand reveal'd,
Who was hid from gaze, as in silken maze
The chrysalis lies concealed.

And they formed a hedge round the house,
And, "I'll wed her! " they all did cry;
And the Champion of Chinu he was there,
And the Champion of Unahi.

With jealous love these champions twain
The beauteous girl did woo,
Each had his hand on the hilt of his sword,
And a full-charged quiver, too,

Was slung o'er the back of each champion fierce,
And a bow of snow-white wood
Did rest in the sinewy hand of each;
And the twain defiant stood.

Crying, "An 'twere for her dear sake,
Nor fire nor flood I'd fear! "
The maiden heard each daring word,
But spoke in her mother's ear:--

"Alas! that I, poor country girl,
Should cause this jealous strife!
As I may not wed the man I love
What profits me my life?

"In Hades' realm I will await
The issue of the fray. "
These secret thoughts, with many a sigh,
She whisper'd and pass'd away.

To the Champion of Chinu in a dream
Her face that night was shown;
So he followed the maid to Hades' shade,
And his rival was left alone;

Left alone--too late! too late!
He gapes at the vacant air,
He shouts, and he yells, and gnashes his teeth,
And dances in wild despair.

"But no! I'll not yield! " he fiercely cries,
"I'm as good a man as he! "
And girding his poniard, he follows after,
To search out his enemy.

The kinsmen then, on either side,
In solemn conclave met,
As a token forever and evermore--
Some monument for to set,

That the story might pass from mouth to mouth,
While heav'n and earth shall stand;
So they laid the maiden in the midst,
And the champions on either hand.

And I, when I hear the mournful tale,
I melt into bitter tears,
As though these lovers I never saw
Had been mine own compeers.

_Mushimaro_.




THE GRAVE OF THE MAIDEN OF UNAHI


I stand by the grave where they buried
The Maiden of Unahi,
Whom of old the rival champions
Did woo so jealously.

The grave should hand down through ages
Her story for evermore,
That men yet unborn might love her,
And think on the days of yore.

And so beside the causeway
They piled up the bowlders high;
Nor e'er till the clouds that o'ershadow us
Shall vanish from the sky,

May the pilgrim along the causeway
Forget to turn aside,
And mourn o'er the grave of the Maiden;
And the village folk, beside,

Ne'er cease from their bitter weeping,
But cluster around her tomb;
And the ages repeat her story,
And bewail the Maiden's doom.

Till at last e'en I stand gazing
On the grave where she now lies low,
And muse with unspeakable sadness
On the old days long ago.

_Sakimaro_.

[Note. --The existence of the Maiden of Unahi is not doubted by any of
the native authorities, and, as usual, the tomb is there (or said to
be there, for the present writer's search for it on the occasion of a
somewhat hurried visit to that part of the country was vain) to attest
the truth of the tradition. Ashinoya is the name of the village, and
Unahi of the district. The locality is in the province of Setsutsu,
between the present treaty ports of Kobe and Osaka. ]




THE MAIDEN OF KATSUSHIKA


Where in the far-off eastern land
The cock first crows at dawn,
The people still hand down a tale
Of days long dead and gone.

They tell of Katsushika's maid,
Whose sash of country blue
Bound but a frock of home-spun hemp,
And kirtle coarse to view;

Whose feet no shoe had e'er confined,
Nor comb passed through her hair;
Yet all the queens in damask robes
Might nevermore compare.

With this dear child, who smiling stood,
A flow'ret of the spring--
In beauty perfect and complete,
Like to the moon's full ring.

And, as the summer moths that fly
Towards the flame so bright,
Or as the boats that deck the port
When fall the shades of night,

So came the suitors; but she said:--
"Why take me for your wife?
Full well I know my humble lot,
I know how short my life. "[136]

So where the dashing billows beat
On the loud-sounding shore,
Hath Katsushika's tender maid
Her home for evermore.

Yes! 'tis a tale of days long past;
But, listening to the lay,
It seems as I had gazed upon
Her face but yesterday.

_Anon_.




THE BEGGAR'S COMPLAINT[137]


The heaven and earth they call so great,
For me are mickle small;
The sun and moon they call so bright,
For me ne'er shine at all.

Are all men sad, or only I?
And what have I obtained--
What good the gift of mortal life,
That prize so rarely gained,[138]

If nought my chilly back protects
But one thin grass-cloth coat,
In tatters hanging like the weeds
That on the billows float--

If here in smoke-stained, darksome hut,
Upon the bare cold ground,
I make my wretched bed of straw,
And hear the mournful sound--

Hear how mine aged parents groan,
And wife and children cry,
Father and mother, children, wife,
Huddling in misery--

If in the rice-pan, nigh forgot,
The spider hangs its nest,[139]
And from the hearth no smoke goes up
Where all is so unblest?

And now, to make our wail more deep,
That saying is proved true
Of "snipping what was short before":--
Here comes to claim his due,

The village provost, stick in hand
He's shouting at the door;--
And can such pain and grief be all
Existence has in store?

_Stanza_

Shame and despair are mine from day to day;
But, being no bird, I cannot fly away.

_Anon. _




A SOLDIER'S REGRETS ON LEAVING HOME


When _I left_ to keep guard on the frontier
(For such was the monarch's decree),
My mother, with skirt uplifted,[140]
Drew near and fondled me;

And my father, the hot tears streaming
His snow-white beard adown,
Besought me to tarry, crying:--
"Alas! when thou art gone,

"When thou leavest our gate in the morning,
No other sons have I,
And mine eyes will long to behold thee
As the weary years roll by;

"So tarry but one day longer,
And let me find some relief
In speaking and hearing thee speak to me! "
So wail'd the old man in his grief.
And on either side came pressing
My wife and my children dear,
Fluttering like birds, and with garments
Besprinkled with many a tear;

And clasped my hands and would stay me,
For 'twas so hard to part;
But mine awe of the sovereign edict
Constrained my loving heart.

I went; yet each time the pathway
O'er a pass through the mountains did wind,
I'd turn me round--ah! so lovingly! --
And ten thousand times gaze behind.

But farther still, and still farther,
Past many a land I did roam,
And my thoughts were all thoughts of sadness,
All loving, sad thoughts of home;--

Till I came to the shores of Sumi,
Where the sovereign gods I prayed,
With off'rings so humbly offered--
And this the prayer that I made:--

"Being mortal, I know not how many
The days of my life may be;
And how the perilous pathway
That leads o'er the plain of the sea,

"Past unknown islands will bear me:--
But grant that while I am gone
No hurt may touch father or mother,
Or the wife now left alone! "

Yes, such was my prayer to the sea-gods;
And now the unnumbered oars,
And the ship and the seamen to bear me
From breezy Naniha's shores,

Are there at the mouth of the river:--
Oh! tell the dear ones at home,
That I'm off as the day is breaking
To row o'er the ocean foam.

_Anon. _

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 132: Such frantic demonstrations of grief are very
frequently mentioned in the early poetry, and sound strangely to those
who are accustomed to the more than English reserve of the modern
Japanese. Possibly, as in Europe, so in Japan, there may have been a
real change of character in this respect. ]

[Footnote 133: The Mikado is meant. The feudal system did not grow up
till many centuries later. ]

[Footnote 134: The N-a-h-i are sounded like our English word nigh, and
therefore form but one syllable to the ear. ]

[Footnote 135: Anciently (and this custom is still followed in some
parts of Japan) the hair of female children was cut short at the neck
and allowed to hang down loosely till the age of eight. At twelve or
thirteen the hair was generally bound up, though this ceremony was
often frequently postponed till marriage. At the present day, the
methods of doing the hair of female children, of grown-up girls, and
of married women vary considerably. ]

[Footnote 136: The original of this stanza is obscure, and the native
commentators have no satisfactory interpretation to offer. ]

[Footnote 137: In the original the title is "The Beggar's Dialogue,"
there being two poems, of which that here translated is the second.
The first one, which is put into the mouth of an unmarried beggar, who
takes a cheerier view of poverty, is not so well fitted for
translation into English. ]

[Footnote 138: Because, according to the Buddhist doctrine of
perpetually recurring births, it is at any given time more probable
that the individual will come into the world in the shape of one of
the lower animals. ]

[Footnote 139: A literal translation of the Japanese idiom. ]

[Footnote 140: The Japanese commentators are puzzled over the meaning
of the passage "with skirt uplifted, drew near and fondled me. " To the
European mind there seems to be nothing obscure in it. The mother
probably lifted her skirt to wipe her eyes, when she was crying. It is
evidently a figurative way of saying that the mother was crying. ]




LOVE SONGS

ON BEHOLDING THE MOUNTAIN

_Composed by the commander of the forces of the Mikado Zhiyomei_


The long spring day is o'er, and dark despond
My heart invades, and lets the tears flow down,
As all alone I stand, when from beyond
The mount our heav'n-sent monarch's throne doth crown.

There breathes the twilight wind and turns my sleeve.
Ah, gentle breeze! to turn, home to return,
Is all my prayer; I cannot cease to grieve
On this long toilsome road; I burn, I burn!

Yes! the poor heart I used to think so brave
Is all afire, though none the flame may see,
Like to the salt-kilns there by Tsunu's wave,
Where toil the fisher-maidens wearily.

_Anon_.




LOVE IS PAIN


'Twas said of old, and still the ages say,
"The lover's path is full of doubt and woe. "
Of me they spake: I know not, nor can know,
If she I sigh for will my love repay.
My heart sinks on my breast; with bitter strife
My heart is torn, and grief she cannot see.
All unavailing is this agony
To help the love that has become my life.

_Anon_.




HITOMARO TO HIS MISTRESS


Tsunu's shore, Ihami's brine,
To all other eyes but mine
Seem, perchance, a lifeless mere,
And sands that ne'er the sailor cheer.

Ah, well-a-day! no ports we boast,
And dead the sea that bathes our coast;
But yet I trow the winged breeze
Sweeping at morn across our seas,

And the waves at eventide
From the depths of ocean wide,
Onward to Watadzu bear
The deep-green seaweed, rich and fair;

And like that seaweed gently swaying,
Winged breeze and waves obeying,
So thy heart hath swayed and bent
And crowned my love with thy content.

But, dear heart! I must away,
As fades the dew when shines the day;
Nor aught my backward looks avail,
Myriad times cast down the vale,

From each turn the winding road
Takes upward; for thy dear abode
Farther and still farther lies,
And hills on hills between us rise.

Ah! bend ye down, ye cruel peaks,
That the gate my fancy seeks,
Where sits my pensive love alone,
To mine eyes again be shown!

_Hitomaro. _




NO TIDINGS


The year has come, the year has gone again,
And still no tidings of mine absent love!
Through the long days of spring all heaven above
And earth beneath, re-echo with my pain.

In dark cocoon my mother's silk-worms dwell;
Like them, a captive, through the livelong day
Alone I sit and sigh my soul away,
For ne'er to any I my love may tell.

Like to the pine-trees I must stand and pine,[141]
While downward slanting fall the shades of night,
Till my long sleeve of purest snowy white,
With showers of tears, is steeped in bitter brine.

_Anon. _




HOMEWARD


From Kaminabi's crest
The clouds descending pour in sheeted rain,
And, 'midst the gloom, the wind sighs o'er the plain:--
Oh! he that sadly press'd,
Leaving my loving side, alone to roam
Magami's des'late moor, has he reached home?

_Anon. _




THE MAIDEN AND THE DOG


As the bold huntsman on some mountain path
Waits for the stag he hopes may pass that way,
So wait I for my love both night and day:--
Then bark not at him, as thou fearest my wrath.

_Anon_.




LOVE IS ALL


Where in spring the sweetest flowers
Fill Mount Kaminabi's bowers,
Where in autumn dyed with red,
Each ancient maple rears its head,
And Aska's flood, with sedges lin'd,
As a belt the mound doth bind:--
There see my heart--a reed that sways,
Nor aught but love's swift stream obeys,
And now, if like the dew, dear maid,
Life must fade, then let it fade:--
My secret love is not in vain,
For thou lov'st me back again.




HUSBAND AND WIFE


WIFE. --

Though other women's husbands ride
Along the road in proud array,
My husband, up the rough hill-side,
On foot must wend his weary way.

The grievous sight with bitter pain
My bosom fills, and many a tear
Steals down my cheek, and I would fain
Do aught to help my husband dear.

Come! take the mirror and the veil,
My mother's parting gifts to me;
In barter they must sure avail
To buy an horse to carry thee!

HUSBAND. --

And I should purchase me an horse,
Must not my wife still sadly walk?
No, no! though stony is our course,
We'll trudge along and sweetly talk.

_Anon. _




HE COMES NOT


He comes not! 'tis in vain I wait;
The crane's wild cry strikes on mine ear,
The tempest howls, the hour is late,
Dark is the raven night and drear:--
And, as I thus stand sighing,
The snowflakes round me flying
Light on my sleeve, and freeze it crisp and clear.

Sure 'tis too late! he cannot come;
Yet trust I still that we may meet,
As sailors gayly rowing home
Trust in their ship so safe and fleet.
Though waking hours conceal him,
Oh! may my dreams reveal him,
Filling the long, long night with converse sweet!

_Anon_.




HE AND SHE


HE. --To Hatsuse's vale I'm come,
To woo thee, darling, in thy home;
But the rain rains down apace,
And the snow veils ev'ry place,
And now the pheasant 'gins to cry,
And the cock crows to the sky:--
Now flees the night, the night hath fled,
Let me in to share thy bed!

SHE. --To Hatsuse's vale thou'rt come,
To woo me, darling, in my home:--
But my mother sleeps hard by,
And my father near doth lie;
Should I but rise, I'll wake her ear;
Should I go out, then he will hear:--
The night hath fled! it may not be,
For our love's a mystery!

_Anon. _




THE PEARLS


Oh! he my prince, that left my side
O'er the twain Lover Hills[142] to roam,
Saying that in far Kishiu's tide
He'd hunt for pearls to bring them home.

When will he come? With trembling hope
I hie me on the busy street,
To ask the evening horoscope,
That straightway thus gives answer meet--

The lover dear, my pretty girl,
For whom thou waitest, comes not yet,
Because he's seeking ev'ry pearl
Where out at sea the billows fret.

"He comes not yet, my pretty girl!
Because among the riplets clear
He's seeking, finding ev'ry pearl;
'Tis that delays thy lover dear.

"Two days at least must come and go,
Sev'n days at most will bring him back;
'Twas he himself that told me so:--
Then cease, fair maid, to cry Alack! "

_Anon. _




A DAMSEL CROSSING A BRIDGE


Across the bridge, with scarlet lacquer glowing,
That o'er the Katashiha's stream is laid,
All trippingly a tender girl is going,
In bodice blue and crimson skirt arrayed.
None to escort her: would that I were knowing
Whether alone she sleeps on virgin bed,
Or if some spouse has won her by his wooing:--
Tell me her house! I'll ask the pretty maid!

_Anon_.




SECRET LOVE


If as my spirit yearns for thine
Thine yearns for mine, why thus delay?
And yet, what answer might be mine
If, pausing on her way,
Some gossip bade me tell
Whence the deep sighs that from my bosom swell?

And thy dear name my lips should pass,
My blushes would our love declare;
No, no! I'll say my longing was
To see the moon appear
O'er yonder darkling hill;
Yet 'tis on thee mine eyes would gaze their fill.

_Anon_.




THE OMEN[143]


Yes! 'twas the hour when all my hopes
Seemed idle as the dews that shake
And tremble in their lotus-cups
By deep Tsurugi's lake--
'Twas then the omen said:--
"Fear not! he'll come his own dear love to wed. "
What though my mother bids me flee
Thy fond embrace? No heed I take;
As pure, as deep my love for thee
As Kiyosumi's lake.
One thought fills all my heart:--
When wilt thou come no more again to part?

_Anon_.




A MAIDEN'S LAMENT


Full oft he swore, with accents true and tender,
"Though years roll by, my love shall ne'er wax old! "
And so to him my heart I did surrender,
Clear as a mirror of pure burnished gold;

And from that day, unlike the seaweed bending
To ev'ry wave raised by the summer gust,
Firm stood my heart, on him alone depending,
As the bold seaman in his ship doth trust.

Is it some cruel god that hath bereft me?
Or hath some mortal stol'n away his heart?
No word, no letter since the day he left me,
Nor more he cometh, ne'er again to part!

In vain I weep, in helpless, hopeless sorrow,
From earliest morn until the close of day;
In vain, till radiant dawn brings back the morrow,
I sigh the weary, weary nights away.

No need to tell how young I am and slender--
A little maid that in thy palm could lie:--
Still for some message comforting and tender,
I pace the room in sad expectancy.

_The Lady Sakanouhe_.




RAIN AND SNOW


Forever on Mikane's crest,
That soars so far away,
The rain it rains in ceaseless sheets,
The snow it snows all day.

And ceaseless as the rain and snow
That fall from heaven above,
So ceaselessly, since first we met,
I love my darling love.

_Anon_.




MOUNT MIKASH


Oft in the misty spring
The vapors roll o'er Mount Mikash's crest,
While, pausing not to rest,
The birds each morn with plaintive note do sing.
Like to the mists of spring
My heart is rent; for, like the song of birds,
Still all unanswered ring
The tender accents of my passionate words.
I call her ev'ry day
Till daylight fades away;
I call her ev'ry night
Till dawn restores the light;--
But my fond prayers are all too weak to bring
My darling back to sight.

_Akahito. _




EVENING


From the loud wave-washed shore
Wend I my way,
Hast'ning o'er many a flow'r,
At close of day--
On past Kusaka's crest,
Onward to thee,
Sweet as the loveliest
Flower of the lea!

_Anon. _

[Note. --A note to the original says: "The name of the composer of the
above song was not given because he was of obscure rank," a reason
which will sound strange to European ears. ]

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 141: The play in the original is on the word Matsu, which
has the double signification of "a pine-tree" and "to wait. "]

[Footnote 142: Mount Lover and Mount Lady-love (Se-yama and Imo-yama)
in the province of Yamato. ]

[Footnote 143: The reference in this song is to an old superstition.
It used to be supposed that the chance words caught from the mouths of
passers-by would solve any doubt on questions to which it might
otherwise be impossible to obtain an answer. This was called the
yufu-ura, or "evening divination," on account of its being practised
in the evening. It has been found impossible in this instance to
follow the original very closely. ]




ELEGIES

ON THE DEATH OF THE MIKADO TENJI[144]

_By One of His Ladies_


Alas! poor mortal maid! unfit to hold
High converse with the glorious gods above,[145]
Each morn that breaks still finds me unconsoled,
Each hour still hears me sighing for thy love.

Wert thou a precious stone, I'd clasp thee tight
Around mine arm; wert thou a silken dress
I'd ne'er discard thee, either day or night:--
Last night, sweet love! I dreamt I saw thy face.




ON THE DEATH OF THE POET'S MISTRESS


How fondly did I yearn to gaze
(For was there not the dear abode
Of her whose love lit up my days? )
On Karu's often-trodden road.

But should I wander in and out,
Morning and evening ceaselessly,
Our loves were quickly noised about,
For eyes enough there were to see.

So, trusting that as tendrils part
To meet again, so we might meet,
As in deep rocky gorge my heart,
Unseen, unknown, in secret beat.

But like the sun at close of day,
And as behind a cloud the moon,
So passed my gentle love away,
An autumn leaf ta'en all too soon.

When came the fatal messenger,
I knew not what to say or do:--
But who might sit and simply hear?
Rather, methought, of all my woe.

Haply one thousandth part might find
Relief if my due feet once more,
Where she so often trod, should wind
Through Karu's streets and past her door.

But mute that noise, nor all the crowd
Could show her like, or soothe my care;
So, calling her dear name aloud,
I waved my sleeve in blank despair.

_Hitomaro_.




ELEGY ON THE POET'S WIFE


The gulls that twitter on the rush-grown shore
When fall the shades of night,
That o'er the waves in loving pairs do soar
When shines the morning light--
'Tis said e'en these poor birds delight
To nestle each beneath his darling's wing
That, gently fluttering,
Through the dark hours wards off the hoar-frost's might.

Like to the stream that finds
The downward path it never may retrace,
Like to the shapeless winds,
Poor mortals pass away without a trace:--
So she I love has left her place,
And, in a corner of my widowed couch,
Wrapped in the robe she wove me,
I must crouch,
Far from her fond embrace.

_Nibi_.




ON THE DEATH OF PRINCE HINAMI


I

When began the earth and heaven,
By the banks of heaven's river[146]
All the mighty gods assembled,
All the mighty gods in council.
And, for that her sov'reign grandeur
The great goddess of the day-star
Rul'd th' ethereal realms of heaven,
Downward through the many-piled
Welkin did they waft her grandson,
Bidding him, till earth and heaven,
Waxing old, should fall together,
O'er the middle land of reed-plains,
O'er the land of waving rice-fields,
Spread abroad his power imperial.

II

But not his Kiyomi's palace:--
'Tis his sov'reign's, hers the empire;
And the sun's divine descendant,
Ever soaring, passeth upward
Through the heav'n's high rocky portals.

III

Why, dear prince, oh! why desert us?
Did not all beneath the heaven,
All that dwell in earth's four quarters,
Pant, with eye and heart uplifted,
As for heav'n-sent rain in summer,
For thy rule of flow'ry fragrance,
For thy plenilune of empire?
Now on lone Mayumi's hillock,
Firm on everlasting columns,
Pilest thou a lofty palace,
Whence no more, when day is breaking,
Sound thine edicts, awe-compelling.
Day to day is swiftly gathered,
Moon to moon, till e'er thy faithful
Servants from thy palace vanish.

_Hitomaro_.




ON THE DEATH OF THE NUN RIGUWAN


Ofttimes in far Corea didst thou hear
Of our Cipango as a goodly land;
And so, to parents and to brethren dear
Bidding adieu, thou sailed'st to the strand
Of these domains, that own th' imperial pow'r,
Where glittering palaces unnumbered rise;
Yet such might please thee not, nor many a bow'r
Where village homesteads greet the pilgrim's eyes:--
But in this spot, at Sahoyama's base,
Some secret influence bade thee find thy rest--
Bade seek us out with loving eagerness,
As seeks the weeping infant for the breast.
And here with aliens thou didst choose to dwell,
Year in, year out, in deepest sympathy;
And here thou buildest thee an holy cell;
And so the peaceful years went gliding by.
But ah! what living thing mote yet avoid
Death's dreary summons? --And thine hour did sound
When all the friends on whom thine heart relied
Slept on strange pillows on the mossy ground.
So, while the moon lit up Kasuga's crest,
O'er Sahogaha's flood thy corse they bore
To fill a tomb upon yon mountain's breast,
And dwell in darkness drear for evermore.
No words, alas! nor efforts can avail:--
Nought can I do, poor solitary child!
Nought can I do but make my bitter wail,
And pace the room with cries and gestures wild,
Ceaselessly weeping, till my snowy sleeve
Is wet with tears. Who knows? Perchance, again
Wafted, they're borne upon the sighs I heave,
On 'Arima's far distant heights to rain.

_Sakanouhe_.




ON THE POET'S SON FURUBI


Sev'n are the treasures mortals most do prize,
But I regard them not:--
One only jewel could delight mine eyes--
The child that I begot.

My darling boy, who with the morning sun
Began his joyous day;
Nor ever left me, but with child-like fun
Would make me help him play;

Who'd take my hand when eve its shadows spread,
Saying, "I'm sleepy grown;
'Twixt thee and mother I would lay my head:--
Oh! leave me not alone! "

Then with his pretty prattle in mine ears,
I'd lie awake and scan
The good and evil of the coming years,
And see the child a man.

And, as the seaman trusts his bark, I'd trust
That nought could harm the boy:--
Alas! I wist not that the whirling gust
Would shipwreck all my joy!

Then with despairing, helpless hands I grasp'd
The sacred mirror's[147] sphere;
And round my shoulder I my garments clasp'd,
And prayed with many a tear:--

"'Tis yours, great gods, that dwell in heav'n on high,
Great gods of earth! 'tis yours
To heed, or heed not, a poor father's cry,
Who worships and implores! "

Alas! vain pray'rs, that more no more avail!
He languished day by day,
Till e'en his infant speech began to fail,
And life soon ebbed away.

Stagg'ring with grief I strike my sobbing breast,
And wildly dance and groan:--
Ah! such is life! the child that I caress'd
Far from mine arms hath flown.




SHORT STANZA ON THE SAME OCCASION


So young, so young! he cannot know the way:--
On Hades' porter I'll a bribe bestow,
That on his shoulders the dear infant may
Be safely carried to the realms below.

_Attributed to Okura. _

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 144: Died A. D. 671. ]

[Footnote 145: Viz. , with the departed and deified Mikado. ]

[Footnote 146: The Milky Way. ]

[Footnote 147: The part played by the mirror in the devotions of the
Japanese is carried back by them to a tale in their mythology which
relates the disappearance into a cavern of the Sun-goddess Amaterasu,
and the manner in which she was enticed forth by being led to believe
that her reflection in a mirror that was shown to her was another
deity more lovely than herself. ]




MISCELLANEOUS POEMS

VIEW FROM MOUNT KAGO

_Composed by the Mikado Zhiyomei_


Countless are the mountain-chains
Tow'ring o'er Cipango's plains;
But fairest is Mount Kago's peak,
Whose heav'nward soaring heights I seek,
And gaze on all my realms beneath--
Gaze on the land where vapors wreath
O'er many a cot; gaze on the sea,
Where cry the sea-gulls merrily.
Yes! 'tis a very pleasant land,
Fill'd with joys on either hand,
Sweeter than aught beneath the sky,
Dear islands of the dragon-fly! [148]




THE MIKADO'S BOW[149]


When the dawn is shining,
He takes it up and fondles it with pride;
When the day's declining,
He lays it by his pillow's side.
Hark to the twanging of the string!
This is the Bow of our great Lord and King!
Now to the morning chase they ride,
Now to the chase again at eventide:
Hark to the twanging of the string!
This is the Bow of our great Lord and King!

_Hashibito_.




SPRING AND AUTUMN


When winter turns to spring,
Birds that were songless make their songs resound,
Flow'rs that were flow'rless cover all the ground;
Yet 'tis no perfect thing:--
I cannot walk, so tangled is each hill;
So thick the herbs I cannot pluck my fill.