The lord of Han loved beauty;
In love's desire he pined.
For years within his palace
Such love he could not find.
 
A maiden in the house of Yang
To wedlock's age had grown.
Brought up within the harem,
And to the world unknown.
 
A lovely form of Heaven's mould
Is never cast aside.
And so this maid was chosen
To be a Prince's bride.
 
If she but turned her smiling,
A hundred loves were born.
There are no arts, no graces,
But by her, looked forlorn.
 
'Twas in the chilly Springtime,
They bathed in Hua-ch'ing Lake;
And in the tepid waters
The crusted winter slake.
 
When thence attendants bore her,
So helpless and so fair;
Then first beat in the Prince's breast
Desire and tender care.
 
With cloud-like hair and flower-like-face
Her tinkling footsteps ring.
How warm in her pure curtains
To pass a night of Spring!
 
The nights of Spring are short, alas!
Too soon the sunlit dawn!
From then no longer held the Prince
His court at early morn.
 
But steeped in love, at banquet's side
No other business knew.
One Spring behind another came,
One night the next renew.
 
Although within his palace
Three thousand beauties dwelt
His love for these three thousand
Did not one bosom melt.
 
When dressed, in secret chamber
Her beauty served the night.
In gilded hall, the banquet done,
The wine brought love's delight.
 
Her brothers and her sisters
Were ranked on steps of fame.
And all her humble cottage
Was lit with honour's flame.
 
Until throughout the Empire
All parents hailed with joy
The birth of some fair maiden;
And wanted not a boy.
 
The lofty palace balconies
Amid blue clouds abide,
Their fairy storm of sweet delights
Goes echoing far and wide.
 
'Twas wanton song, lascivious dance,
And stringèd music's fire.
The whole day long the Emperor gazed,
And never seemed to tire.
 
When like an earthquake came the boom
Of drums and war's alarms,
To shatter that sweet rainbow song
Of Beauty in Love's arms.
 
The clouds of dust rolled gloomily
About the palace doors,
As chariots, troops of horsemen,
Went westwards to the wars.
 
That lady fair would go with him,
And then she stayed again.
At last she came the forty miles;
And lodged her on the plain.
 
Alas! the armies will not start.
No hope is there at all,
Till those persuasive eyebrows
Before the chargers fall.
 
Her ornaments the earth receives;
Neglected there they lie.
Her feathers, golden hair clasp,
And pins her blood-stains dye.
 
Her Lord cannot now rescue.
His mantle hides his face.
With that last look the tears of blood
In trickling sorrow race.
 
The yellow dust is scattered wide,
And desolate the wind,
As up a spiral bridge of cloud
She leaves the earth behind.
 
Below great Omi Mountain
But rarely people go;
And dimly falls the sunlight;
And dull the banners flow.
 
Are green the streams of Szechuen;
And verdant Szechuen's hills
Yet morn by morn and night by night
What grief his bosom fills!
 
When from his tent the moon he sees,
His breast is charged with woe.
The rain of night, the watches' bell,
Like torments through him go.
 
But loud rebellion's din resounds,
He to his chariot fares
With steps unequal came he there;
And halting thence repairs,
 
Beneath the slope of Ma-wei,
And hidden in the soil,
He cannot see that lovely face
That death has made its spoil.
 
The prince gazed on his ministers.
Their tears together flow.
They eastwards saw the city;
And turned their steeds to go.
 
Her lake, her garden still were there;
Unchangèd were they all:
The lotus in the T'ai-yeh Lake,
the willow by the hall.
 
The lotus seemed her face to be.
Her brows the willow seem.
The sight of them made gush again
His tears in bitter stream.
 
When plum and peach the spring renewed,
And blossoms opened well
When wu-tung leaves in autumn rain
Before the breezes fell,
 
Within the courts unheeded grew
And rank the autumn grass;
And all the steps were red with leaves,
Ne'er swept for him to pass.
 
The tresses of her comrades
Were newly streaked with grey.
The eunuchs of her palace
And women pined away.
 
The firefly flitting the room
Her spirit seemed to be;
The whole wick of his lamp he trimmed,
Yet sleep his eyes would flee.
 
How slowly through the dreary night
The bell the watches tolled.
How sleepless blinked the Milky way,
Ere dawn the light unrolled!
 
When chill the roof where true love dwelt,
How thick the frost flakes form!
When cold the halcyon's coverlet
Who then can make it warm?
 
In dreary gloom his life wore on;
And years have passed, I deem;
But never yet her spirit came
To soothe him in a dream.
 
By chance there came a wandering priest,
Was steeped in magic lore,
And skilled to call the spirit home
That dwelt on Pluto's shore.
 
In pity for the Prince's grief,
That never let him rest,
He Fang-Shih sent to seek her,
And bade him do his best.
 
The driving power of air he fixed,
Like lightening thence he flew.
The highest heaven, the lowest earth
He searched through and through.
 
Above he searched the azure vault,
The yellow Styx below;
Both stretched in gloomy emptiness,
Nor traces of her show.
 
And then he learnt that on the sea
There was a fairy hill.
It stood upon the void obscure,
That glamour covers still.
 
Fair, glinting, high its turrets rose,
And spanned with rainbow hair;
Where many fairies stood about,
So modestly and fair.
 
And one among them, T'ai-chen called,
Than all the rest more rare,
So white her skin, so sweet her face,
None could with her compare.
 
He knocked him on the fairy door,
The palace western hall;
And bade the young attendants
That lady fair to call.
 
And when she heard that tidings
From Han Huang waited by,
From out the silken curtains
Her dream did swiftly fly.
 
She thrust aside the pillow;
Her garments hurried on;
And through the rich-set doorway
Her wav'ring steps have gone.
 
Her cloud-like hair hung all awry,
So fresh from sleep the dame.
With coronal all slanted,
Into the hall she came.
 
Her fairy sleeves the wind blew up
They floated on the air.
Like rainbows seemed her raiment,
Like wings her garment fair.
 
Her lovely face looked wist and sad,
And tears were in her eyes.
She seemed a sweet plum blossom
Where spring rain pearling lies.
 
Her heart she stilled; her glances veiled;
And thanked her Emperor's care.
"My voice," she said, "since parting.
My face my sorrows wear.
 
"In Chao-yang Court my love remains.
It knows no other sway.
Through palaces of Fairyland
But slowly drags the day.
 
"When I would turn my head to view
The world of men below,
I never can see Ch'ang-an;
So thick the mist wreaths flow.
 
"But take the former things I had,
To show my love how true.
This ornament and golden pin
To take him, give I you.
 
"One half this golden pin I keep
Now broken in my grasp.
The other half to him I send,
With half this golden clasp.
 
"And tell him that my heart is fixed,
As true as is the gold.
In heaven mortals meet again.
I wait him purely bold."
 
The messenger was going thence.
He asked one word again.
"There is one thing," she said to him,
"Known only to us twain.
 
"The seventh moon, the seventh day
We stood in Ch'ang-sheng Hall.
'Twas night, and none beside us;
We two were all in all.
 
"We swore that in the heaven above
We never would dispart:
One tomb on earth enclose of us
The frail and mortal part."
  
*****

The heaven is vast; and earth is old;
And Time will wear away.
But this their endless sorrow
Shall never know decay.