hues of the willows—afar one might have thought them clouds of mist all balanced in the air. … The flowers and willows seem to sigh at our approach; the breeze, the moon, are fuller still of sympathy; 'tis they that bring to life the varied colours that we love. A poet in such moments of delight might feel constrained to pour out in sweet verse the feelings of his soul. No han-lin by his talent could describe the charms of this fair scene, no painter with rich colours represent them. … The perfumed plants are veiled in floating mist; our lamp throws a still flame within its covering of blue gauze; yonder the willows like green silks are hanging, from whence drip pearls of dew, and fall, like rain of stars, into the limpid pool—gems, one might call them, softly dropped within a crystal basin. And, look, the rising moon shines at the willow’s edge, like that sky-coloured dragon who of old carried the mirror of Hoang-ti."
Other examples of the sentiment of Nature in the same play might be quoted; for example, in the third act Fan-sou sings, "The moon is silvery, the breeze fresh, and the flowers spread out thick clouds of perfume—the moon floats on the water's face; with gentle breeze the willows wave, and veiled in summer mists the palace lies." But we prefer to vary our examples. In the next play translated by M. Bazin, Ho-han-chan, or "The Tunic compared," Tchang-i, the Youen-waï (a title of merchants and proprietors), watching from within his house (known by the sign of the Golden Lion) a fall of snow, partly speaks, partly sings, as follows: "My son, 'tis true the flakes of icy snow are very beautiful. Clouds that look like reddish mists stretch out and mass together from all sides; big snow-flakes whirl and eddy in the air; the north wind blows with fury, and the view loses itself in a silvery horizon. … Now are we just at the season
