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| THE MUSIC-LESSON of Koung-tseu the wise, | |
| Known as Confucius in the Western world. | |
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| Of all the sages of the Flowery Land | |
| None knew so well as great Confucius | |
| The ancient rites; and when his mother died, | 5 |
| Three years he mourned alone beside her tomb, | |
| As the old custom bade, nor did he miss | |
| A single detail of the dark old forms | |
| Required of the bereaved, for he had made | |
| Himself a model for all living men: | 10 |
| A mirror and a pattern of the past. | |
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| Now when the years of mourning with their rites | |
| Were at an end, Confucius came forth | |
| And wandered as of old with other men, | |
| Giving his counsel unto many kings; | 15 |
| But still the hand of grief was on his heart, | |
| And his dark hue set forth his darkened hours. | |
| To drive away these sorrows from his soul, | |
| Remembering that music had been made | |
| A moral motive in the golden books | 20 |
| Of wisdom by the sacred ancestors, | |
| He played upon the Kin,—the curious lute | |
| Invented by Fou-Hi in days of old; | |
| Fou-Hi of the bull’s head and dragon’s form, | |
| The Lord of Learning who upraised mankind | 25 |
| From being silent brutes to singing men. | |
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| In vain Confucius played upon the lute; | |
| He found that music would not be to him | |
| What it had been of old,—a pastime gay: | |
| For he had borne through three long years of grief | 30 |
| Stupendous knowledge, and his mighty soul, | |
| Grasping the lines which link all earthly lore, | |
| Had been by suffering raised to greater power; | |
| For he who knows and suffers, if he will | |
| May raise himself unnumbered scales o’er man. | 35 |
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| The music spoke no more its wonted sounds, | |
| But whispered mysteries in a broken tongue | |
| Which urged him sorely. Then Confucius said: | |
| “O secret Music! sacred tongue of God! | |
| I hear thee calling to me, and I come! | 40 |
| Of old I did but know thy outer form, | |
| And dreamed not of the spirit hid within; | |
| The Goddess in the Lotos. Yes, I come, | |
| And will not rest, nor will I calm my doubt, | |
| Till I have seen thee plainly with mine eyes, | 45 |
| And palpably have touched thee with my hand, | |
| Then shall I know thee,—raised to life for me | |
For what thou truly art.
Lo! I have heard | |
| That in the land of Kin a master lives, | |
| So deeply skilled in music, that mankind | 50 |
| Begin again to give a glowing faith | |
| Unto the golden stories which are told | |
| Of the strange harmonies which built the world, | |
| And of the melody whose key is God. | |
| Now I will travel to the land of Kin, | 55 |
| And know this sage of music, great Siang, | |
| And learn the secret lore which hides within | |
| All sweet well-ordered sounds.” He went his way, | |
| Nor rested till he stood before the man. | |
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| Thus spoke Siang unto Confucius: | 60 |
| “Of all the arts, great Music is the art | |
| To raise the soul above all earthly storms; | |
| For in it lies that purest harmony | |
| Which lifts us over self and up to God. | |
| Thou who hast studied deeply the Kouà— | 65 |
| The eight great symbols of created things— | |
| Knowest the sacred power of the line | |
| Which when unbroken flies to all the worlds | |
| As light unending,—but in broken forms | |
| Falls short as sky and earth, clouds, winds, and fire, | 70 |
| The deep blue ocean and the mountain high, | |
| And the red lightning hissing in the wave. | |
| The mighty law which formed what thou canst see, | |
| As clearly lives in all that thou canst hear, | |
| And more than this, in all that thou canst feel. | 75 |
| Here, take thy lute in hand. I teach the air | |
| Made by the sage Wen Wang of ancient days.” | |
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| Confucius took the lute and played the air | |
| Till all his soul seemed passing into song; | |
| Then he fell deep into the solemn chords | 80 |
| As though his body and the lute were one, | |
| And every chord a wave which bore him on | |
| Through the great sea of ecstasy. His hands | |
| Then ceased to play,—but in his raptured look | |
| They saw him following out the harmony. | 85 |
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| Five days went by, and still Confucius | |
| Played all day long the ancient simple air; | |
| And when Siang would teach him more, he said: | |
| “Not yet, my master, I would seize the thought, | |
| The subtle thought which hides within the tune.” | 90 |
| To which the master answered: “It is well. | |
| Take five days more!” And when the time was passed | |
| Unto Siang thus spoke Confucius: | |
| “I do begin to see,—yet what I see | |
| Is very dim. I am as one who looks | 95 |
| And nothing sees except a luminous cloud: | |
| Give me but five more days, and at the end | |
| If I have not attained the great idea | |
| Hidden of old within the melody, | |
| I will leave music as beyond my power.” | 100 |
| “Do as thou wilt, O pupil!” cried Siang | |
| In deepest admiration; “never yet | |
| Had I a scholar who was like to thee.” | |
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| And on the fifteenth day Confucius rose | |
| And stood before Siang, and cried aloud: | 105 |
| “The mist which shadowed me is blown away, | |
| I am as one who stands upon a cliff | |
| And gazes far and wide upon the world, | |
| For I have mastered every secret thought, | |
| Yea, every shadow of a feeling dim | 110 |
| Which flitted through the spirit of Wen Wang | |
| When he composed that air. I speak to him, | |
| I hear him clearly answer me again; | |
| And more than that, I see his very form: | |
| A man of middle stature, with a hue | 115 |
| Half blended with the dark and with the fair; | |
| His features long, and large sweet eyes which beam | |
| With great benevolence,—a noble face! | |
| His voice is deep and full, and all his air | |
| Inspires a sense of virtue and of love. | 120 |
| I know that I behold the very man, | |
| The sage of ancient days, Wen Wang the just.” | |
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| Then good Siang lay down upon the dust, | |
| And said: “Thou art my master. Even thus | |
| The ancient legend, known to none but me, | 125 |
| Describes our first great sire. And thou hast seen | |
| That which I never yet myself beheld, | |
| Though I have played the sacred song for years, | |
| Striving with all my soul to penetrate | |
| Its mystery unto the master’s form, | 130 |
| Whilst thou hast reached it at a single bound:— | |
| Henceforth the gods alone can teach thee tune.” | |
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