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The Bride of Jiao Zhongqing
Southeast the love-lorn peacock flies. Alack,
At every mile she falters and looks back!
At thirteen years Lanzhi learned how to weave;
At fourteen years she could embroider, sew;
At fifteen music on her lute she made;
At sixteen knew the classics, prose and verse,
At seventeen they wed her to Zhongqing,
And from that day what joy and pain were hers!
As work kept Zhongqing in the yamen far,
His absence made her love the deeper still.
She started weaving at the dawn of day,
Worked at the loom until the midnight hour.
The tapestries beneath her fingers grew,
Yet Zhongqing's mother sore berated her—
Not for poor work or any tardy pace,
But she was mistress: brides must know their place.
At length in sorrow to Zhongqing she said,
"If I have failed to serve your mother well,
Useless to stay....Please go and tell her so.
Should she think fit, I fain would go away."
The husband, shame-faced, on this errand went.
"Mother," he said , "no lordly post is mine.
To wed Lanzhi was more than I deserved.
As man and wife we love each other so
That naught but death itself shall sever us.
Less than three years have we been wedded now;
Our life together is a budding flower.
Lanzhi methinks, has done her best, no less.
Why treat her, then, with such unkindliness?"
To which the shrewish mother made reply,
"Dull are your wits and foolish, O my son!
Your wife lacks graces and she lacks good sense.
See her for what she is , self-willed and vain.
The very sight of her offends my eyes.
I wonder that you dare to plead her cause!
A proper wife I have in mind for you...
Yonder she lives, a maid called Qin Luofu,
A matchless beauty, upon my word,
And I have ways to compass her consent.
Now listen! We must get your slut away!
Yes, go must she, and go without delay!"
For filial piety he knelt down,
And pitiful yet firm was his appeal.
"Mother, if 'tis your will, cast out Lanzhi,
But do not think that I will marry twice!"
At this the mother's fury knew no bounds.
She ranted wildly, strumming on her stool:
"Is reverence for aged parents dead?
Defend a wife and flout a mother's wish?
This stranger in the house I will not bear,
And none henceforth to thwart my will shall dare!"
Zhongqing fell dumb before his mother's rage,
Made her a bow profound and went his way.
In tears and sorrow he sought poor Lanzhi,
Though little comfort for them both he knew.
"The thought of parting rends my heart in twain!
And yet my mother will not be gainsaid.
My duties at the yamen call me hence.
'Tis best you go back ato your brother's home.
My yamen tasks complete, I will return
And take you with me to our home again.
It has to be, alas! Forgive me now,
And doubt not I will keep my solemn vow!"
Lanzhi made answer sorrowful and low:
"Nay, take no care to come for me again.
'Twas in the depth of winter, I recall,
I first came to this house a timid bride.
I bore myself with filial reverence,
Was never obstinate, self-willed or rude.
For three years, day and night , I toiled for her,
Nor heeded how long that sorry state might last,
My only care to serve your mother's will
And to repay the love you bore to me.
Yet from this house I now am driven out....
To what avail to bring me back again?
I'll leave my broidered jacket of brocade,
(Its golden lacings still are fresh and bright,)
My small, soft canopy of scarlet gauze
With perfumed herbs sewn in its corners four.
My trunks, my dowry, too, I leave behind,
As fair as ever in their silken wraps ---
Things, some of them, I had a fancy for,
Though now neglected and untouched they lie.
True, they are only cheap and tawdry wares,
Not nearly good enough for your new bride.
But you may share them out as tiny gifts,
Or, if you find no fit occasion now,
Keep them, my dear," she said , her eyes all wet.
"And her who owned them do not quite forger."
When the loud cock-crow marked another day
Lanzhi arose betimes and dressed herself.
She put on her embroidered skirt of silk.
And silken slippers pleasing to the eye,
Studded her braided locks with jewellery,
Hung pearly earring in her little ears,
With touch so delicate applied the rouge
Until her lips, already perfect, glowed.
Her fingers had a tapering loveliness,
Her waist seemed like a many-colored cloud.
A peerless beauty did she look, and sweet
The grace with which she moved her little feet.
To Zhongqing's mother then she bade farewell
In tender words that found a churlish ear:
"Lady, I am of humble origin,
Not well instructed and not well brought-up.
Stupid and shallow and inept am I ---
A sorry mate for any noble heir.
Yet you have treated me with kindliness,
And I ,for shame , have not served you well.
This house for evermore today I leave,
And that I cannot serve you more I grieve."
Then, trickling down her cheeks warm tears,
She bade farewell to Zhongqing's sister dear:
"When to this house I first came as a bride,
Dear sister, you wer just a naughty child.
See, you have grown well nigh as tall as I.
Now I must bid a hasty , long farewell;
Yet,if you love me,sister, for my sake,
Be gentle to your mother, care for her.
When all the maidens hold their festivals,
Forget not her who once looked after you."
With blinding tears and with a heavy heart
She took her seat then in the waiting cart.
For fear of prying eyes and cruel tongues
Zhongqing would meet her where the four roads met.
On the rough road her carriage pitched and shook,
The wheel-rims clattered and the axle creaked.
