The Book of Poetry, tr. by James Legge, , at sacred-texts.com
2Wên formed himself upon his sires,
Nor gave their spirits pain.
Well pleased were they. Next he inspires
His wife. His brethren fain
To follow were. In every state
The chiefs on his example wait. p. 346
3In palace see him,—bland, serene;
In fane, with rev’rent fear.
Unseen by man, he felt still seen
By spirits always near.
Unweariedly did he maintain
His virtue pure, and free from stain.
4Some great calamities there came,
Which he could not control.
But none his generous aim might blame,
Nought darken his bright soul.
Untaught, the right he ever saw;
Reproof he needed not, nor law.
5Grown men through him in virtue grew;
Young men attainments made.
Aye to himself our prince was true,
Nor weariness displayed.
His officers acquired great fame;
To him they owed their deathless name.