dignitaries, who wrote verses; or at all events only their verses have been handed down to our time, and the lower classes were not supposed to know anything at all about the art.
Thus, it is related that long ago Prince Ota Dokwan was hunting with his retinue on the mountains; and, a storm of rain coming on, he stopped at a mountain inn, to request the loan of a rain-coat; a girl came at his call, and retired into the hut, coming back again in a few minutes looking rather confused, and without saying a word she humbly presented the Prince with a yamabuki blossom (a kind of yellow rose) on an outstretched fan. The Prince, much incensed at being trifled with like this, turned on his heel, and went off in high dudgeon; until one of his attendants reminded him of a well-known verse, which runs:—
Nanae yae
Hana wa sake domo
Yamabuki no
Mi no hitotsu dani
Naka zo kanashiki.
The yamabuki blossom has
A wealth of petals gay;
But yet in spite of this, alas!
I much regret to say,
No seed can it display.
