The Book of Poetry, tr. by James Legge, , at sacred-texts.com
2Our Shu a-hunting drove away,
His four steeds all of color bay.
The outsides followed close behind p. 90
The insides, finest of their kind,
Like wild geese on the wing.
They now have gained the marshy ground;
At once the flames blaze all around.
Few archers can with Shu compare;
A charioteer of cunning rare,
The steeds before him spring.
Now they dash on in course direct;
Now they're brought up and quickly checkt.
Forth flies the arrow, fleet and stark,
Nor fails to hit its proper mark,
His left hand following.
3Our Shu a-hunting drove away,
His four steeds all of color gray.
With heads in line the insides sped;
The outsides followed like the head
Succeeded by the arms.
They now have reached the marshy ground;
One blaze of flame wraps all around;
Soon cease the hunt's alarms.
Shu's steeds before him slowly move;
His skill the arrows cease to prove.
Straightway the quiver's lid is closed,
And in its case the bow reposed.
How his fine bearing charms!