The Book of Poetry, tr. by James Legge, , at sacred-texts.com
2And Keng-wu also lucky proved;
We picked our steeds, and chose our ground,—
Where stags and does by Ts‘eih and Ts‘eu
Made sport for him whom Heaven had crowned.
3We viewed the plain where teeming game
Now shivering stand, now frantic run;
Here two, there three. We charged along,
Pleasure to yield to Heaven's great son.
4We bend our bows; our shafts we grasp;
There lies the huge behemoth low,
And boars are pierced:—spoil for the guests,
At court, when wine cups overflow.