The Koo Chung

How peal the royal bells,
As the Hwae sweeps along to the main !
A tale their music tells,
Waking thoughts in my mind full of pain.
Before me back it sadly brings
The memory of our virtuous kings ;
And they live in my fancy again !

Loud roll the royal drums,
As the Hwae rushes on to the deep.
A vanished memory comes
In their sound which compels me to weep,—
The memory of our kings of old,
Whose virtue flawless still we hold,
Though the kings in their sepulchres sleep.

Bells peal and drums resound,
As the Hwae its three islands displays.
They stir a grief profound
In my heart that no revel allays.
The virtue of our kings of yore
A stamp of truth and beauty bore,
Such as never we see now-a-days.

K‘in-k‘in the bells peal on,
And the lutes in the concert we hear.
Deep breathes the organ tone ;
Sounding stones join their notes, rich and clear.
The while through the vessel there ring
The Ya and the Nan which they sing,
And the dancers with flutes now appear.