The Book of Poetry, tr. by James Legge, , at sacred-texts.com
2The water bubbles from the spring,
And round it grows the cress.
So when the princes see the king,
Their coming they express
In various ways. Now here I see
Their flags, with dragon blazonry,
All waving in the wind.
The gentle tinkling of their bells
Comes to my ear, and surely tells
They in their chariots, grandly drawn
By the four steeds of mighty brawn,
Cannot be far behind. p. 310
3The king soon gets a nearer view.
The covers red he sees
Upon their knees, of brilliant hue,
And buskins ’neath the knees.
A grave demeanor all display;
The Son of Heaven approves.
What to such princes can he say,
Whose presence rapture moves?
In admiration and delight,
No grace can he withhold.
To some he grants new honors bright,
To some confirms the old.
4The oaks their branches wide extend,
With leaves thick covered o’er,
Which thus the roots and trunk defend,
And make them thrive the more.
So do these princes service do,
Throughout the land, while they pursue
The charges to them given.
The various regions well they guard, p. 311
Nor think they any labor hard,
To aid the Son of Heaven.
All blessings on their heads collect.
And now to court they've brought
Their ministers who nought neglect,
Strong both in act and thought.
5The boat is by the rope held fast,
Lest it should float away;
So round the princes there is cast
The king's protective stay.
He looks on them with joy intense;
He scans their merits to dispense
His favors and rewards.
He makes their happiness his charge;
Their territories to enlarge,
As duty he regards.
To them it is a pleasure rare,
A happy, joyous time,
When from their states they here repair,
To see his court sublime.