The following is a somewhat more spirited production. It is a song written by Ch'ien Lung, to be inserted and sung in a play entitled " Picking up Gold," by a beggar who is fortunate enough to stumble across a large nugget :
" A brimless cap of felt stuck on my head; No coat) a myriad-patchwork quilt instead j In my hand a bamboo staff; Hempen sandals on my feet ; As I slouch along the street, ' Pity the poor beggar ;' to the passers-by I call, Hoping to obtain broken food and dregs of wine. Then when night's dark shadows fa//, Oh merrily, Oh merrily I laugh, Drinking myself to sleep, sheltered in some old shrine.
Black, black, the clouds close round on every side; White, white, the gossamer flakes fly far and wide. Ai-yah ! is't jade that sudden decks the eaves ? With silver tiles me seems the streets are laid. Oh, in what glorious garb Nature's arrayed, Displaying fairy features on a lovely face I But stay ! the night is drawing on apace ; Nothing remains my homeward track to guide ; See how the feathered snow weighs down the palm-tree leaves I
I wag my head and clap my hands, ha ! ha ! I clap my hands and wag my head, ha ! ha ! There in the drift a lump half-sunken lies ; O gold I for thee dear relatives will part, Dear friends forget their hours of friendship past, Husband and wife tear at each other's heart, Father and son sever life's closest ties j For thee, the ignoble thief all rule and law defies.
What men of this world most adore is gold; The devils deep in hell the dross adore ; Where gold is there the gods are in its wake. Now shall I never more produce the snake ;
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