"There lived she whom the love of the first of men had made first among women.

"She who rode in the imperial chariot, in the excursions on sunny days.

"Before the chariot flashed the bright escort of maidens
armed with bow and arrow.

"Mounted upon white steeds which pawed the ground, champing their golden bits.

"Gaily they raised their heads, launching their arrows into the clouds,

"And, laughing, uttered joyous cries when a bird fell victim to their skill."

In the city of Ch`ang-an, with its triple rows of glittering walls
with their tall towers uprising at intervals, its seven royal palaces
all girdled with gardens, its wonderful Yen tower nine stories high,
encased in marble, the drum towers and bell towers, the canals and lakes
with their floating theatres, dwelt Ming Huang and T`ai Chen.
Within the royal park on the borders of the lake stood a little pavilion
round whose balcony crept jasmine and magnolia branches scenting the air.
Just underneath flamed a tangle of peonies in bloom, leaning down
to the calm blue waters. Here in the evening the favourite reclined,
watching the peonies vie with the sunset beyond. Here the Emperor
sent his minister for Li Po, and here the great lyrist
set her mortal beauty to glow from the scented, flower-haunted balustrade
immortally through the twilights yet to come.

What matter if the snow
Blot out the garden? She shall still recline