122 CHINESE LITERATURE
and he comes across a famine-stricken woman who had thrown among the bushes a child she was unable to feed. Arriving at the Great River, the setting sun brings his feelings to a head :
" Streaks of light still cling to the hill-tops, While a deeper shade falls upon the steep slopes / The fox makes his -way to his burrow, Birds fly back to their homes in the wood, Clear sound the ripples of the rushing waves, Along the banks the gibbons scream and cry, My sleeves are fluttered by the whistling gale, The lapels of my robe are drenched with dew. The livelong night I cannot close my eyes. I arise and seize my guitar,
Which, ever in sympathy with man's changing moods, Now sounds responsive to my grief"
But music cannot make him forget his kith and kin
" Most of 'them, alas ! are prisoners, And weeping will be my portion to the end. With all the joyous spots in the empire, Why must I remain in this place?
Ah, like the grub in smartweed, I am growing insensible to bitterness."
By the last line he means to hint " how much a long communion tends to make us what we are."
There was YING YANG, who, when his own political career was cut short, wrote a poem with a title which may be interpreted as " Regret that a Bucephalus should stand idle."
There was Liu CHNG, who was put to death for daring to cast an eye upon one of the favourites of the great general Ts'ao Ts'ao, virtual founder of the House of Wei. CH'EN LIN and YUAN Yu complete the tale.
To these seven names an eighth and a ninth are added
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