the Lord Buddha have power to avenge this insult by the infliction of some misfortune, then let the vials of his wrath be poured out upon the person of your ser- vant, who now calls Heaven to witness that he will not repent him of his oath."
A writer named Li HUA, of whom little is known except that he flourished in the ninth century, has left behind him one very much admired piece entitled " On an Old Battlefield " :
"Vast, vast, a limitless extent of flat sand, without a human being in sight, girdled by a stream and dotted with hills, where in the dismal twilight the wind moans at the setting sun. Shrubs gone : grass withered : all chill as the hoar-frost of early morn. The birds of the air fly past : the beasts of the field shun the spot ; for it is, as I was informed by the keeper, the site of an old battlefield. ' Many a time and oft,' said he, ' has an army been overthrown on this spot ; and the voices of the dead may frequently be heard weeping and wailing in the darkness of the night.' "
This is how the writer calls up in imagination the ghastly scene of long ago :
" And now the cruel spear does its work, the startled sand blinds the combatants locked fast in the death- struggle ; while hill and vale and stream groan beneath the flash and crash of arms. By and by, the chill cold shades of night fall upon them, knee-deep in snow, beards stiff with ice. The hardy vulture seeks its nest : the strength of the war-horse is broken. Clothes are of no avail ; hands frost-bitten, flesh cracked. Even nature lends her aid to the Tartars, contributing a deadly blast, the better to complete the work of slaughter begun.
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