Page:Anthology of Japanese Literature.pdf/441

Launches set out to meet their ship, we hear the drums echo;
In the distance signal flags are raised to stay alarm.
The ship enters the harbor, a ponderous turtle,
So huge that in the shallows it seems sure to ground.
Our little launches, like strung pearls,
Tow it forward amid a clamorous din.
The barbarian hull rises a hundred feet above the sea,
The sighing wind flapping its banners of felt.
Three sails fly amid a thousand lines,
Fixed to engines moving up and down like well-sweeps.
Blackskinned slaves,^[1] nimbler than monkeys,
Scale the masts and haul on the lines.
The anchor drops with shouts from the crew;
Huge cannon bellow forth again and again their roar.
The barbarian heart is hard to fathom; the Throne ponders
And dares not relax its armed defense.
Alas, wretches, why come they to vex our anxious eyes,
Pursuing countless miles in their greed what gain?
Their ships pitiful leaves upon the monstrous waves,
Crawling like gigantic ants after rancid meat.
Do we not bear ox-knives to kill but a chicken,
Trade our most lovely jewels for thorns?^[2]

Spring is gone, the boy is gone;
Two griefs this day.
Spring returns.
And this dead child?