Classic Poem

Oft in June, or earlier May-tide,
On Heguri's heights foregather
From afar the med'cine hunters,
Where, amidst the mountain gorges,
By twin-soaring yew-trees shelter'd,
As with many a stalwart comrade,
Arm'd with bows and arm'd with arrows,
For the passing deer I waited,
Came a stag, and stood before me,
And thus 'gan his lamentation:—
“Sudden death is now my sentence;
I must serve the mighty monarch,
And mine horns shall grace his sunshade,
And mine ears shall be his inkhorn,
And mine eyes shall be his mirror,
And mine hoofs shall be his bow-notch,
And mine hairs shall grace his pencil,
And mine hide shall line his casket,
And my flesh shall be his mincemeat,
And my liver, too, his mincemeat,
And my cud shall be his seas'ning.
Men shall praise me, men shall praise me.
Saying, ‘Lo! on one poor agèd
Stag these sev'nfold blossoms flower,
Eightfold blossoms flower sweetly!’ ”