Koremitz recognized her as an aunt of the latter. He then asked her about the Princess, and told her of Genji's intention. To his inquiries he soon obtained a satisfactory answer, and duly reported it to Genji, who now felt a pang of remorse for his long negligence of one so badly circumstanced. He descended from his carriage, but the pathway was all but overgrown with tall mugwort, which was wet with a passing shower; so Koremitz whisked them with his whip, and led him in.

Inside, meanwhile, the Princess, though she felt very pleased, experienced a feeling of shyness. Her aunt, it will be remembered, had presented her with a suitable dress, which she had hitherto had no pleasure in wearing, and had kept it in a box which had originally contained perfume. She now took this out and put it on. Genji was presently shown into the room.

"It is a long time since I saw you last," said Genji, "but still I have never forgotten you, only I heard nothing from you; so I waited till now, and here I find myself once more."

The Princess, as usual, said very little, only thanking him for his visit. He then addressed her in many kind and affectionate words, many of which he might not really have meant, and after a considerable stay he at last took his departure.

This was about the time of the feast in the Temple of Kamo, and Genji received several presents under various pretexts. He distributed these presents among his friends, such as those in the villa of "the falling flowers," and to the Princess. He also sent his servant to the mansion of the latter to cut down the rampant mugwort, and he restored the grounds to proper order. Moreover, he had a wooden enclosure placed all round the garden.

So far as the world hitherto knew about Genji, he was supposed only to cast his eyes on extraordinary and pre-eminent beauties; but we see in him a very different character in the present instance. He showed so much kindness to the Princess Hitachi, who was by no means distinguished for her beauty, and who still bore a mark on her nose which might remind one of a well-ripened fruit carried by mountaineers. How was this? it might have been preordained to be so.

The Princess continued to live in the mansion for two years, and then she removed to a part of a newly built "eastern mansion" belonging to Genji, where she lived happily under the kind care of the Prince, though he had much difficulty in coming often to see her. I would fain describe the astonishment of her aunt when she returned from the Western Island and saw the Princess's happy condition, and how Jijiu regretted having left her too hastily; but my head is aching and my fingers are tired, so I shall wait for some future opportunity when I may again take up the thread of my story.



CHAPTER XVI

BARRIER HOUSE

We left beautiful Cicada at the time when she quitted the capital with her husband. Now this husband Iyo-no-Kami, had been promoted to the governorship of Hitachi, in the year which followed that of the demise of the late ex-Emperor, and Cicada accompanied him to the province. It was a year after Genji's return that they came back to the capital. On the day when they had to pass the barrier house of Ausaka (meeting-path) on their homeward way, Hitachi's sons, the eldest known to us as Ki-no-Kami, now became Kawachi-no-Kami, and others went from the city to meet them. It so happened that Genji was to pay his visit to the Temple of Ishiyama on this very day. This became known to Hitachi, who, thinking it would be embarrassing if they met with his procession on the road, determined to start very early; but, somehow or another, time passed on, and when they came to the lake coast of Uchiide (modern Otz, a place along Lake Biwa), the sun had risen high, and this was the moment when Genji was crossing the Awata Road. In the course of a few hours the outriders of Genji's cortege came in sight; so that Hitachi's party left their several carriages, and seated themselves under the shade of the cedars on the hill-side of Ausaka, in order to avoid encountering Genji and his procession. It was the last day of September. All the herbage was fading under the influence of the coming winter, and many tinted autumn leaves displayed their different hues over the hills and fields. The scene was in every way pleasing to the eyes of the spectators. The number of the carriages of Hitachi's party was about ten in all, and the style and appearance of the party showed no traces of rusticity of taste. It might have been imagined that the party of the Saigu journeying towards or from Ise, might be something similar to this one.

Genji soon caught sight of them, and became aware that it was Hitachi. He therefore sent for Cicada's brother—whom we know as Kokimi, and who had now been made Uyemon-no-Ske—from the party, and told him that he hoped his attention in coming there to meet them would not be considered unfavorable. This Kokimi, as we know, had received much kindness from Genji up to the time of his becoming a man; but when Genji had to quit the capital he left him and joined his brother-in-law in his official province. This was not viewed as very satisfactory; but Genji manifested no bad feeling to him, and treated him still as one of his household attendants. Ukon-no-Jio, a brother-in-law of Cicada, on the other hand, had faithfully followed Genji to his exile, and after their return he was more than ever favored by Genji. This state of things made many feel for the bad taste of the ordinary weakness of the world, exhibited by the faithfully following of one when circumstances are flourishing, and deserting him in the time of adversity. Kokimi himself was one of those who fully realized these feelings, and was pained by them. When Genji finished his visit to the Temple, and was coming back, Kokimi once more came from the capital to meet him. Through him Genji sent a letter to his sister, asking her if she had recognized him when he passed at Ausaka, adding the following verse:—

"As onward we our way did take, On Meeting-Path, both I and you, We met not, for by the saltless lake, No milme[124] by its waters grew."

In handing the letter to Kokimi, Genji said, "Give this to your sister; it is a long time since I heard anything from her, still the past seems to me only like yesterday. But do you disapprove of my sending this?" Kokimi replied in a few words, and took the letter back to his sister, and told her, when he gave it, that she might easily give him some sort of answer. She did indeed disapprove of treating the matter in any way more seriously than she had formerly done, yet she wrote the following:—

"By Barrier-House—oh, name unkind, That bars the path of friendly greeting; We passed along with yearning mind, But passed, alas! without a meeting."

After this time some other correspondence now and then passed between them. As time rolled on the health of her aged husband visibly declined; and after fervently enjoining his sons to be kind and attentive to her, in due time he breathed his last.

For some time they were kind and attentive to her, as their father had requested, and there was nothing unsatisfactory in their behavior towards her, yet many things which were not altogether pleasant gradually presented themselves to her, and so it is always in life. Finally Cicada, telling her intentions to no one beforehand, became a nun.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 124: The name of a seaweed, but also meaning the eyes that meet, and hence the twofold sense of the word.]



CHAPTER XVII

COMPETITIVE SHOW OF PICTURES

The introduction of the late Saigu, the daughter of the Lady of Rokjio, at Court, was now arranged to take place, with the approval of the Empress-mother (the Princess Wistaria). All the arrangements and preparations were made, though not quite openly, under the eye of Genji, who took a parental interest in her. It may be remembered that the ex-Emperor was once struck by her charms, on the eve of her departure for Ise; and though he never encouraged this fancy to become anything more than an ordinary partiality, he took no small interest in all that concerned her welfare.

When the day of introduction arrived, he made her several beautiful presents, such as a comb-box, a dressing-table, and a casket containing rare perfumes. At her residence all her female attendants, and some others, assembled, who made every preparation with the utmost pains.

In the Palace, the Empress-mother was with her Royal son on this day. He was still a mere boy, and scarcely understood what was going on; but he was now fully informed on the subject by his mother, and was told that a very interesting lady was going to reside in the Palace to attend on him, and that he must be good and kind to her. The presentation took place late in the evening, and henceforth she was called the Niogo of the Ume-Tsubo (plum-chamber), from the name of her apartment.

She was a charming lady, and the Emperor was not without a certain liking for her; yet Lady Kokiden, the daughter of Gon-Chiunagon (To-no-Chiujio), who had been introduced some time previously, and consequently was an acquaintance of an older date, was much more frequently preferred by him to the other for society in daily amusement. When Gon-Chiunagon introduced his daughter, he did not of course do so without hope of her further elevation; but now Lady Plum came to assume a position through Genji's influence, as if to compete with his daughter for the royal favor; and it was by no means glad tidings for him. It may be here mentioned that Prince Hiob-Kio had also, as we have already seen, an intention of introducing one of his daughters at Court; but this hope was doomed to disappointment by the establishing of the two ladies already introduced, and he was induced to defer his intention, at least for the present.

The Emperor was very fond of pictures, and painted with considerable ability. Lady Plum, too, as it happened, possessed the same taste as the Emperor, and used often to amuse herself by painting. If, therefore, he liked ordinary courtiers who exhibited a taste for painting, it was no matter of surprise that he liked to see the delicate hands of the lady occupied in carefully laying on colors. This similarity of taste gradually drew his attention to her, and led to frequent visits to the "plum-chamber." When Gon-Chiunagon was informed of these circumstances, he took the matter into his own hands. He himself determined to excite a spirit of rivalry. He contrived means to counteract the influence of painting, and commissioned several famous artists of the times to execute some elaborate pictures. Most of these were subjects taken from old romances, as he conceived that these were always more attractive than mere fanciful pictures. He had also caused to be painted a representation of every month of the year, which would also be likely, he thought, to interest the Emperor. When these pictures were finished he took them to Court, and submitted them to his inspection; but he would not agree that he should take any of them to the plum-chamber; and they were all deposited in the chamber of his daughter.

Genji, when he heard of this, said of his brother-in-law, "He is young; he never could be behind others." He was, however, unable to pass the matter over unnoticed. He told the Emperor that he would present him with some old pictures, and returning to his mansion at Nijio he opened his picture cabinet, where numbers of old and new pictures were kept. From these, with the assistance of Violet, he made a selection of the best. But such pictures as illustrations of the "Long Regrets," or representations of "O-shio-kun," were reserved, because the terminations of these stories were not happy ones. He also took out of his cabinet the sketches which he had made while in Suma and Akashi, and showed them for the first time to Violet, who was a little angry at his not having shown them to her sooner.

It was about the tenth of February, and the face of Nature began to smile with the approach of spring, making the hearts and tempers of people more calm and cheerful; besides, it was just the time when the Court was unoccupied with the keeping of any festival. There could be no better chance than this for such an exhibition of pictures to attract the attention of people enjoying leisure. Genji, therefore, sent his collection of pictures to the Palace in behalf of the lady of the plum-chamber.

This soon created a sensation in the Palace. Most of the pictures that were in the possession of the lady of the plum-chamber were from old romances, and the pictures themselves were of ancient date, being rare, while those of Kokiden were more modern subjects and by living artists. Thus each of them had their special merits, so that it became difficult to say which were more excellent. Talking of these pictures became quite a fashionable subject of conversation of the courtiers of the day. The Imperial-mother happened to be at Court, and when she saw these pictures and heard different persons at Court discussing their relative merits, she suggested that they should divide themselves into two parties, right and left, and regularly to give their judgment. This was accordingly done: Hei-Naishi-no-Ske, Jijiu-no-Naishi, and Shioshio-no-Miobu took the left, on the side of the lady of the plum-chamber; while Daini-no-Naishi-no-Ske, Chiujio-no-Miobu, and Hioye-no-Miobu took the right, on the side of the Kokiden.

The first picture selected was the illustration of the "Bamboo Cutter,"[125] by the left, as it was the most appropriate to come first for the discussion of its merits, as being the parent of romance. To compete with this, that of "Toshikage,"[126] from "The Empty Wood," was selected by the right. The left now stated their case, saying, "The bamboo—indeed, its story too—may be an old and commonly known thing, but the maiden Kakya, in keeping her purity unsullied in this world, is highly admirable; besides, it was an occurrence that belongs to a pre-historical period. No ordinary woman would ever be equal to her, and so this picture has an excellence." Thereupon the right argued in opposition to this, saying, "The sky, where the maiden Kakya has gone away, may indeed be high, but it is beyond human reach, so we may put it aside. When she made her appearance in this world she was, after all, a creature of bamboo; and, indeed, we may consider her even lower than ourselves. It may also be true that she threw a bright radiance over the inside of a cottage, but she never shone in the august society of a palace. Abe-no-oshi's[127] spending millions of money in order to get the so-called fire-proof rat, which, when obtained, was consumed in the flames in a moment, is simply ridiculous. Prince Kuramochi's[128] pretended jewel branch was simply a delusion. Besides, this picture is by Kose-no-Omi, with notes[129] by Tsurayuki. These are not very uncommon. The paper is Kamiya, only covered with Chinese satin. The outer cover is reddish purple, and the centre stick is purple Azedarach. These are very common ornaments. Now Toshikage, though he had undergone a severe trial from the raging storm, and had been carried to a strange country, arrived at length at the country to which he was originally despatched, and from there returned to his native land, having achieved his object, and having made his ability recognized both at home and abroad. This picture is the life of this man, and it represents many scenes, not only of his country but of foreign ones, which cannot fail to be interesting. We therefore dare to place this one above the other in merit."

The ground of this picture was thick white tinted paper, the outer cover was green, and the centre stick jade. The picture was by Tsunenori, and the writing by Michikage. It was in the highest taste of the period.

The left made no more protestation against the right.

Next the romance of Ise by the left, and that of Shio-Sammi by the right, were brought into competition. 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. But in the autumn-tide I cull the scarlet leaves and love them dear, And let the green leaves stay, with many a tear, All on the fair hill-side:— No time so sweet as that. Away! Away! Autumn's the time I fain would keep alway.

Ohogimi.



SPRING

When winter turns to spring, The dews of morn in pearly radiance lie, The mists of eve rise circling to the sky, And Kaminabi's thickets ring With the sweet notes the nightingale doth sing.

Anon.



RECOLLECTIONS OF MY CHILDREN

Ne'er a melon can I eat, But calls to mind my children dear; Ne'er a chestnut crisp and sweet, But makes the lov'd ones seem more near. Whence did they come, my life to cheer? Before mine eyes they seem to sweep, So that I may not even sleep. What use to me the gold and silver hoard? What use to me the gems most rich and rare? Brighter by far—aye! bright beyond compare— The joys my children to my heart afford!

Yamagami-no Okura.



THE BROOK OF HATSUSE

Pure is Hatsuse mountain-brook— So pure it mirrors all the clouds of heaven; Yet here no fishermen for shelter look When sailing home at even:— 'Tis that there are no sandy reaches, Nor sheltering beaches, Where the frail craft might find some shelt'ring nook. Ah, well-a-day! we have no sandy reaches:— But heed that not; Nor shelving beaches:— But heed that not! Come a-jostling and a-hustling O'er our billows gayly bustling:— Come, all ye boats, and anchor in this spot!

Anon.



LINES TO A FRIEND

Japan is not a land where men need pray, For 'tis itself divine:— Yet do I lift my voice in prayer and say:— "May ev'ry joy be thine! And may I too, if thou those joys attain, Live on to see thee blest!" Such the fond prayer, that, like the restless main, Will rise within my breast.

Hitomaro.



A VERY ANCIENT ODE

Mountains and ocean-waves Around me lie; Forever the mountain-chains Tower to the sky; Fixed is the ocean Immutably:— Man is a thing of nought, Born but to die!

Anon.



THE BRIDGE TO HEAVEN[150]

Oh! that that ancient bridge, Hanging 'twixt heaven and earth, were longer still! Oh! that yon tow'ring mountain-ridge So boldly tow'ring, tow'red more boldly still! Then from the moon on high I'd fetch some drops of the life-giving stream— A gift that might beseem Our Lord, the King, to make him live for aye!

Anon.



ODE TO THE CUCKOO

Nightingales built the nest Where, as a lonely guest, First thy young head did rest, Cuckoo, so dear! Strange to the father-bird, Strange to the mother-bird, Sounded the note they heard, Tender and clear. Fleeing thy native bow'rs, Bright with the silv'ry flow'rs, Oft in the summer hours Hither thou fliest; Light'st on some orange tall, Scatt'ring the blossoms all, And, while around they fall, Ceaselessly criest. Through, through the livelong day Soundeth thy roundelay, Never its accents may Pall on mine ear:— Come, take a bribe of me! Ne'er to far regions flee; Dwell on mine orange-tree, Cuckoo, so dear!

Anon.



THE ASCENT OF MOUNT TSUKUBA

When my lord, who fain would look on Great Tsukuba, double-crested, To the highlands of Hitachi Bent his steps, then I, his servant, Panting with the heats of summer, Down my brow the sweat-drops dripping, Breathlessly toil'd onward, upward, Tangled roots of timber clutching. "There, my lord! behold the prospect!" Cried I, when we scaled the summit. And the gracious goddess gave us Smiling welcome, while her consort Condescended to admit us Into these, his sacred precincts, O'er Tsukuba, double-crested, Where the clouds do have their dwelling. And the rain forever raineth, Shedding his divine refulgence, And revealing to our vision Ev'ry landmark that in darkness And in shapeless gloom was shrouded;— Till for joy our belts we loosen'd, Casting off constraint, and sported. Danker now than in the dulcet Spring-time grew the summer grasses; Yet to-day our bliss was boundless.

Anon.



COUPLET

When the great men of old pass'd by this way, Could e'en their pleasures vie with ours to-day?

Anon.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 148: One of the ancient names of Japan, given to the country on account of a supposed resemblance in shape to that insect. The dragon-flies of Japan are various and very beautiful.]

[Footnote 149: The Mikado referred to is Zhiyomei, who died in A.D. 641.]

[Footnote 150: The poet alludes to the so-called Ama-no-Ukihashi, or "floating bridge of heaven"—the bridge by which, according to the Japanese mythology, the gods passed up and down in the days of old.]



SHORT STANZAS

I

Spring, spring has come, while yet the landscape bears Its fleecy burden of unmelted snow! Now may the zephyr gently 'gin to blow, To melt the nightingale's sweet frozen tears.

Anon.

II

Amid the branches of the silv'ry bowers The nightingale doth sing: perchance he knows That spring hath come, and takes the later snows For the white petals of the plum's sweet flowers.[151]

Sosei.

III

Too lightly woven must the garments be— Garments of mist—that clothe the coming spring:— In wild disorder see them fluttering Soon as the zephyr breathes adown the lea.

Yukihara.

IV

Heedless that now the mists of spring do rise, Why fly the wild geese northward?—Can it be Their native home is fairer to their eyes, Though no sweet flowers blossom on its lea?

Ise.

V

If earth but ceased to offer to my sight The beauteous cherry-trees when blossoming, Ah! then indeed, with peaceful, pure delight, My heart might revel in the joys of spring!

Narihira.

VI

Tell me, doth any know the dark recess Where dwell the winds that scatter the spring flow'rs? Hide it not from me! By the heav'nly pow'rs, I'll search them out to upbraid their wickedness!

Sosei.

VII

No man so callous but he heaves a sigh When o'er his head the withered cherry-flowers Come flutt'ring down.—Who knows? the spring's soft show'rs May be but tears shed by the sorrowing sky.

Kuronushi.

VIII

Whom would your cries, with artful calumny, Accuse of scatt'ring the pale cherry-flow'rs? 'Tis your own pinions flitting through these bow'rs That raise the gust which makes them fall and die!

Sosei.

IX

In blossoms the wistaria-tree to-day Breaks forth, that sweep the wavelets of my lake:— When will the mountain cuckoo come and make The garden vocal with his first sweet lay?

Attributed to Hitomaro.

X

Oh, lotus leaf! I dreamt that the wide earth Held nought more pure than thee—held nought more true:— Why, then, when on thee rolls a drop of dew, Pretend that 'tis a gem of priceless worth?[152]

Henzeu.

XI

Can I be dreaming? 'Twas but yesterday We planted out each tender shoot again;[153] And now the autumn breeze sighs o'er the plain, Where fields of yellow rice confess its sway.

Anon.

XII

A thousand thoughts of tender, vague regret, Crowd on my soul, what time I stand and gaze On the soft-shining autumn moon; and yet Not to me only speaks her silv'ry haze.

Chisato.

XIII

What bark impelled by autumn's fresh'ning gale Comes speeding t'ward me?—'Tis the wild geese arriv'n Across the fathomless expanse of Heav'n, And lifting up their voices for a sail!

Anon.

XIV

Autumn

The silv'ry dewdrops that in autumn light Upon the moors, must surely jewels be; For there they hang all over hill and lea, Strung on the threads the spiders weave so tight.

Asayasu.

XV

Autumn

The trees and herbage, as the year doth wane, For gold and russet leave their former hue— All but the wave-toss'd flow'rets of the main, That never yet chill autumn's empire knew.

Yasuhide.

XVI

Autumn

The dews are all of one pale silv'ry white:— Then tell me, if thou canst, oh! tell me why These silv'ry dews so marvellously dye The autumn leaves a myriad colors bright?

Toshiyuki.

XVII

Autumn

The warp is hoar-frost and the woof is dew— Too frail, alas! the warp and woof to be:— For scarce the woods their damask robes endue, When, torn and soiled, they flutter o'er the lea.

Sekiwo.

XVIII

Autumn

E'en when on earth the thund'ring gods held sway Was such a sight beheld?—Calm Tatsta's flood, Stain'd, as by Chinese art, with hues of blood, Rolls o'er Yamato's peaceful fields away.

Narihira.

XIX

Winter

When falls the snow, lo! ev'ry herb and tree, That in seclusion through the wintry hours Long time had been held fast, breaks forth in flow'rs That ne'er in spring were known upon the lea.

Tsurayuki.

XX

Winter

When from the skies, that wintry gloom enshrouds, The blossoms fall and flutter round my head, Methinks the spring e'en now his light must shed O'er heavenly lands that lie beyond the clouds.

Fukayabu.

XXI

Congratulations

A thousand years of happy life be thine! Live on, my lord, till what are pebbles now, By age united, to great rocks shall grow, Whose venerable sides the moss doth line!

Anon.

XXII

Congratulations[154]

Of all the days and months that hurry by Nor leave a trace, how long the weary tale! And yet how few the springs when in the vale On the dear flow'rets I may feast mine eye!

Okikaze.

XXIII

Congratulations

If ever mortal in the days of yore By Heav'n a thousand years of life was lent, I wot not; but if never seen before, Be thou the man to make the precedent.

Sosei.

XXIV

Parting

Mine oft-reiterated pray'rs in vain The parting guest would stay: Oh, cherry-flow'rs! Pour down your petals, that from out these bow'rs He ne'er may find the homeward path again!

Anon.

XXV

Travelling

With roseate hues that pierce th' autumnal haze The spreading dawn lights up Akashi's shore; But the fair ship, alas! is seen no more:— An island veils it from my loving gaze.

Attributed to Hitomaro.

XXVI

Travelling

Miyako-bird! if not in vain men give Thy pleasing name, my question deign to hear:— And has she pass'd away, my darling dear, Or doth she still for Narihira live?

Narihira.

* * * * *

XXVIII

Love

The barest ledge of rock, if but a seed Alight upon it, lets the pine-tree grow:— If, then, thy love for me be love indeed, We'll come together, dear; it must be so!

Anon.

XXIX

Love

There is on earth a thing more bootless still Than to write figures on a running stream:— And that thing is (believe me if you will) To dream of one who ne'er of you doth dream.

Anon.

* * * * *

XXXI

Love

Since that first night when, bath'd in hopeless tears, I sank asleep, and he I love did seem To visit me, I welcome ev'ry dream, Sure that they come as heav'n-sent messengers.

Komachi.

XXXII

Love

Methinks my tenderness the grass must be, Clothing some mountain desolate and lone; For though it daily grows luxuriantly, To ev'ry mortal eye 'tis still unknown.

Yoshiki.

XXXIII

Love

Upon the causeway through the land of dreams Surely the dews must plentifully light:— For when I've wandered up and down all night, My sleeve's so wet that nought will dry its streams.

Tsurayuki.

XXXIV

Love

Fast fall the silv'ry dews, albeit not yet 'Tis autumn weather; for each drop's a tear, Shed till the pillow of my hand is wet, As I wake from dreaming of my dear.

Anon.

XXXV

Love

I ask'd my soul where springs th' ill-omened seed That bears the herb of dull forgetfulness;[155] And answer straightway came:—Th' accursed weed Grows in that heart which knows no tenderness.

Sosei.

XXXVI

Elegies[156]

So frail our life, perchance to-morrow's sun May never rise for me. Ah! well-a-day! Till comes the twilight of the sad to-day, I'll mourn for thee, O thou beloved one!

Tsurayuki.

XXXVII

Elegies

The perfume is the same, the same the hue As that which erst my senses did delight:— But he who planted the fair avenue Is here no more, alas! to please my sight!

Tsurayuki.

XXXVIII

Elegies

One thing, alas! more fleeting have I seen Than wither'd leaves driv'n by the autumn gust:— Yea, evanescent as the whirling dust Is man's brief passage o'er this mortal scene!

Chisato.

XXXIX

Softly the dews upon my forehead light:— From off the oars, perchance, as feather'd spray, They drop, while some fair skiff bends on her way Across the Heav'nly Stream[157] on starlit night.

Anon.

XL

What though the waters of that antique rill That flows along the heath, no more are cold; Those who remember what it was of old Go forth to draw them in their buckets still.

Anon.

XLI[158]

Old Age is not a friend I wish to meet; And if some day to see me he should come, I'd lock the door as he walk'd up the street, And cry, "Most honored sir! I'm not at home!"

Anon.

XLII[159]

Yes, I am old; but yet with doleful stour I will not choose to rail 'gainst Fate's decree. An' I had not grown old, then ne'er for me Had dawned the day that brings this golden hour.

Toshiyuki.

XLIII[160]

The roaring torrent scatters far and near Its silv'ry drops:—Oh! let me pick them up! For when of grief I drain some day the cup, Each will do service as a bitter tear.

Yukihira.

XLIV

Composed on beholding the cascade of Otoha on Mount Hiye

Long years, methinks, of sorrow and of care Must have pass'd over the old fountain-head Of the cascade; for, like a silv'ry thread, It rolls adown, nor shows one jet-black hair.

Tadamine.

XLV

If e'en that grot where thou didst seek release From worldly strife in lonesome mountain glen Should find thee sometimes sorrowful, ah! then Where mayest thou farther flee to search for peace?

Mitsune.

XLVI[161]

So close thy friendly roof, so near the spring, That though not yet dull winter hath gone hence, The wind that bloweth o'er our parting fence From thee to me the first gay flow'rs doth bring.

Fukayabu.

XLVII

If to this frame of mine in spring's first hour, When o'er the moor the lightsome mists do curl, Might but be lent the shape of some fair flower, Haply thou 'dst deign to pluck me, cruel girl!

Okikaze.

XLVIII

"Love me, sweet girl! thy love is all I ask!" "Love thee?" she laughing cries; "I love thee not!" "Why, then I'll cease to love thee on the spot, Since loving thee is such a thankless task!"

Anon.

XLIX

A youth once lov'd me, and his love I spurn'd. But see the vengeance of the pow'rs above On cold indiff'rence:—now 'tis I that love, And my fond love, alas! is not returned.

Anon.

L

Beneath love's heavy weight my falt'ring soul Plods, like the packman, o'er life's dusty road. Oh! that some friendly hand would find a pole To ease my shoulders of their grievous load!

Anon.

FOOTNOTES:

[Footnote 151: The plum-tree, cherry-tree, etc., are in Japan cultivated, not for their fruit, but for their blossoms. Together with the wistaria, the lotus, the iris, the lespedeza, and a few others, these take the place which is occupied in the West by the rose, the lily, the violet, etc.]

[Footnote 152: The lotus is the Buddhist emblem of purity, and the lotus growing out of the bud is a frequent metaphor for the heart that remains unsullied by contact with the world.]

[Footnote 153: The transplanting of the rice occupies the whole rural population during the month of June, when men and women may all be seen working in the fields, knee-deep in water. The crops are gathered in October.]

[Footnote 154: This ode was composed on beholding a screen presented to the Empress by Prince Sadayasu at the festival held in honor of her fiftieth birthday, whereon was painted a man seated beneath the falling cherry blossoms and watching them flutter down.]

[Footnote 155: The "Herb of Forgetfulness" answers in the poetical diction of the Japanese to the classical waters Lethe.]

[Footnote 156: It is the young poet Ki-no-Tomonori who is mourned in this stanza.]

[Footnote 157: The Milky Way.]

[Footnote 158: This stanza is remarkable for being (so far as the present writer is aware) the only instance in Japanese literature of that direct impersonation of an abstract idea which is so very strongly marked a characteristic of Western thoughts and modes of expression.]

[Footnote 159: Composed on the occasion of a feast at the palace.]

[Footnote 160: One of a number of stanzas composed by a party of courtiers who visited the cascade of Nunobiki, near the site of the modern treaty-port of Kobe.]

[Footnote 161: This stanza was composed and sent to the owner of the neighboring house on the last day of winter, when the wind had blown some snow across from it into the poet's dwelling.]

* * * * *



THE DRAMA OF JAPAN

[Selected Plays, translated by Basil Hall Chamberlain]



NAKAMITSU

DRAMATIS PERSONAE

MITSUNAKA, Lord of the Horse to the Emperor Murakami.

BIJIYAU, Son of Mitsunaka, and still a boy.

NAKAMITSU, retainer of Mitsunaka.

KAUZHIYU, son of Nakamitsu, and foster-brother of Bijiyau.

WESHIN, Abbot of the great monastery on Mount Hiyei, near Kiyauto (Miaco).

The Chorus.

Scene.—The Temple of Chiynuzanzhi, and my Lord Mitsunaka's palace in Kiyauto.

Time.—Early in the Tenth Century.



NAKAMITSU

PART I

Scene I.—Near the Monastery of Chiynuzanzhi

Enter Nakamitsu.

NAKAMITSU.—I am Nakamitsu, a man of the Fujihara clan, and retainer of Mitsunaka, Lord of Tada in the land of Setsushiu. Now you must know that my lord hath an only son, and him hath he sent to a certain monastery amid the mountains named Chiynuzanzhi, while I, too, have a son called Kauzhiyu, who is gone as page to young my lord. But young my lord doth not condescend to apply his mind unto study, loving rather nothing so well as to spend from morn to night in quarrelling and disturbance. Wherefore, thinking doubtless to disinherit young my lord, my lord already this many a time, hath sent his messengers to the temple with summons to return home to Kiyauto. Nevertheless, as he cometh not, me hath he now sent on the same errand.

[The above words are supposed to be spoken during the journey, and Nakamitsu now arrives at the monastery[162].]

Prithee! is any within?

KAUZHIYU.—Who is it that deigneth to ask admittance?

NAKAMITSU.—What! Is that Kauzhiyu? Tell young my lord that I have come to fetch him home.

KAUZHIYU.—Your commands shall be obeyed. [He goes to his master's apartment.] How shall I dare address my lord? Nakamitsu is come to fetch my lord.

BIJIYAU.—Call him hither.

KAUZHIYU.—Your commands shall be obeyed. [He returns to the outer hall and addresses his father.] Condescend to come this way. [They go to Bijiyau's apartment.

NAKAMITSU.—It is long since I was last here.

BIJIYAU.—And what is it that hath now brought thee?

NAKAMITSU.—'Tis that my lord, your father, hath sent me to bid your lordship follow me home without delay.

BIJIYAU.—Shall I, then, go without saying anything to the priests, my preceptors?

NAKAMITSU.—Yes; if the priests be told, they will surely wish to see your lordship on the way, whereas, my lord, your father's commands were, that I alone was to escort you.