1824.] 
For the Monthly Magazine. 
NoTice relative to the “KING,” or the 
CANONICAL and. MORAL BOOKS of the 
CHINESE) ai oni capeiy 
‘ (Concluded from ‘p. 442.) 
T is observed, by the missionary, 
Father Cibot,that the Chinese have 
more piéces of poctry on filial piety, 
conjugal affection, fraternal amity, the 
union of families, and the misfortunes 
of the country, than all the transma- 
rine learned nations taken together. 
This forms a distinguishing feature in 
characterising the nation. 
~ Father 'Cibot describes the ode, 
which commences with the following 
strophes, as so pathetic, that he could 
not forbear shedding tears over it:— 
Thus, then, it is that the King of Hea- 
ven is unpropitious to our prayers. His 
wonted* clemency is withheld. Famine 
and pestilence are desolating the earth; 
pale death, fills the whole empire with 
mourning and tears. O terrible wrath 
and vengeance! Heaven no longer selects 
its viclims ; its inflictions are every where 
felt with redoubled blows. Dead bodies 
are spread over the land ; we hear only the 
yroans of the dying. It is just, it is right; 
Tet the guilty suffer without mercy,—let 
them perish. But shall the innocent be 
involved in their punishmefit? Shall chil- 
dren, hanging at the withered breast. of 
their languishing mothers, pine away, also, 
in grief and pain? 
O for the pangs of heartfelt repentance! 
let our groans, our sighs, our tears, confess 
our ingratitude and wickedness; but shall 
they exceed the overflowings of mercy 
and goodness in our Heavenly Parent? 
But what do T see? Assassinations and 
shedding of blood,—an aggregate of im- 
mense human slaughter; those whom the 
famine liad spared cut off by the sword! 
“ives, husbands, relations, children, 
friends, shunning. mutual intercourse,— 
avoiding, dreading to see each other. I 
behold some, passing over the deat bodies, 
running to banquets and entertainments. 
Tremble, ye impious! with the air you 
breathe, you are imbibing the contagion 
of death. Those eyes, full of adultery 
and incest, will shortly be closed for ever! 
We shall close with two fragments 
in deserved repute, as agreeably deli- 
neating the softer affections of human 
nature :— 
Like the living branches that add lustre 
anu stability to the root that has produced 
them, I was indulging the fond hopes of 
being, one day, the joy and support of my 
parents. Vain) expectations of a soul 
penetrated with sensibility and gratitude! 
Lam become like one of those arid stalks 
that dry up the root that has nourished 
them, such exhanstion terminating in its 
death. My father and my mother are in 
Monruty Mac, No, 590: 
On Canonical and Moral Books of the Chinese: 
489 
want, standing in necd of that succonr 
which Lam unable fo administer. Alas! 
their old age, protracted in affliction, will 
reap no frait from the pains -and Jabours 
they have endured: for my sake... How is 
the value of a costly urn, sculptured with 
art, disparaged and. disfigured by some 
ride, ill-formed, vase, set beside it! ‘The 
shame and disgrace of a son are the oppro- 
brium of his paren!s, Alas, forme! Souls 
of the most ignoble cast will prefer death 
to a life without honour. How can I 
stand up against the overwhelming 
thought, that I am, as it were, fatherless 
and motherless, as they can no longer think 
of their son without the feelings of shame ? 
shudder at the idea of abandoning my- 
self to despair; but that of struggling 
against it, is yet more painful. O my 
father, to thee I am iadebted for the inheri- 
tance of life ;* O my mother, to thy ten- 
der cares I owe my preservation. Thy 
arms were my first cradle; at thy breasts 
1 imbibed my milky nourishment; it was 
thy clothes that covered me, in thy bosom 
I was kept warm, thy kisses and caresses 
cheered and comforted me, O my father, 
O my mother, your benefits surpass the 
stars of Heaven, in uumber; in their 
extent and immensity, they reach beyond 
the Heavens, and the plenitude of my 
grateful sentiments only serves to. over- 
whelm me with a sense of my misery. 
The enormous mountain ‘of Nan Chan 
raises its superb erest to the skies, bland 
zephyrs continually waft refreshing cool- 
ness and fertility to it ; benefits, in abun- 
dance, concentrate ‘round the district. 
And wherefore am I, alone, borne down 
by a torrent of evils? Why am I, alone, 
for ever drowned in tears? Shall. this 
source of sorrow be never dried up? O 
mountain of Nan Chan, how is it that the 
sight of thee inflames my griefs, and gives 
a keener edge to my despair? The cyes 
of men survey, with wonder, thy stupen- 
dous elevation; each returning season is 
lavish of its bounties, enriches thee with its 
variegated productions, and all who inha- 
bit thy suiface, enjoy tranquillity: and 
plenty. And shall no friendly hopes ever 
interrupt these sighs? Alas!,I am.the 
only son in the world who can render no 
due aftentions to the old age. of his 
parents. 
» The Brother. 
Matchless among the trees of. the forest 
is the, I'chang-ti,. which, the .season of 
spring embellishes with a thousand flow- 
ers. No man’s services can be compared 
to those of a brother, “With the tears of 
unaffected sorrow, a brother laments a 
brother’s death; were his breathless corpse 
suspendcad 
* 'Lhroughout the East, it 1s a Common. 
opinion that the father is the fountain and 
sonice of Jife, and that the mother is only 
the recipient and conservatrix of it, 
ee 
