And from birth and death be free.
Foutsa, thou, who best of any
Know'st the truth of what I've told,
Spread the tale through regions, many
As the Ganges' sands of gold.




MORAL METAPHORS.


From the Chinese.

1.

From out the South the genial breezes sigh,
They shake the bramble branches to and fro,
Whose lovely green delights the gazer's eye--
A mother's thoughts are troubled even so.

From out the South the genial breezes move,
They shake the branches of the bramble-tree;
Unless the sons fair men and honest prove,
The virtuous mother will dishonor'd be.

The frigid fount with violence and spray
By Shiyoun's town upcasts its watery store;
Though full seven sons she give to life and day
The mother's heart is but disturb'd the more.