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The Book of Odes, by L. Cranmer-Byng, [1908], at sacred-texts.com
Wăn drew a tower of bold ascent,
A tower of lofty size.
In crowds the zealous builders went,
The walls began to rise.
"Haste not," said he, when first the work began;
But all the people were as sons of Wăn.
The King was in the wondrous park,
The does so sleek and brown
Lay couched in fern; from dawn to dark
White birds came glistening down;
The King was by the pond whose waters hold
A thousand carp with ruddy scales of gold.
Upon his posts the fretted board
Is hung with drums and bells;
What music chimes from their accord,
What sound of laughter swells
From the pavilion of the circling pool
Where joy and Wăn, the brother monarchs, rule
What harmony of bells and drums!
What call of drums and bells!
Beyond the flaming water comes
What sound of happy spells.
The blind musicians blind us with delight;
While the deep lizard drums roll on till night.