excellence of that of Wen
T'ien-hsiang, and the examiner--himself a great scholar and no
sycophant--saw that the Emperor was right, and altered the places
accordingly.

Four or five years later Wen T'ien-hsiang attracted attention by
demanding the execution of a statesman who had advised that the Court
should quit the capital and flee before the advance of the victorious
Mongols. Then followed many years of hard fighting, in the course of
which his raw levies were several times severely defeated, and he
himself was once taken prisoner by the Mongol general, Bayan, mentioned
by Marco Polo. He managed to escape on that occasion; but in 1278 the
plague broke out in his camp, and he was again defeated and taken
prisoner. He was sent to Peking, and every effort was made to induce him
to own allegiance to the Mongol conqueror, but without success. He was
kept several years in prison. Here is a well-known poem which he wrote
while in captivity:--

"There is in the universe an _Aura_, an influence which permeates all
things, and makes them what they are. Below, it shapes forth land and
water; above, the sun and the stars. In man it is called spirit; and
there is nowhere where it is not.

"In times of national tranquillity, this spirit lies hidden in the
harmony which prevails. Only at some great epoch is it manifested widely
abroad."

Here Wen T'ien-hsiang recalls, and dwells lovingly upon, a number of
historical examples of loyalty and devotion. He then proceeds:--

"Such is this grand and glorious spirit which endureth for all
generations; and which, linked with the sun and moon, knows neither
beginning nor end. The foundation of all that is great and good in
heaven and earth, it is itself born from the everlasting obligations
which are due by man to man.

"Alas! the fates were against me; I was without resource. Bound with
fetters, hurried away toward the north, death would have been sweet
indeed; but that boon was refused.

"My dungeon is lighted by the will-o'-the-wisp alone: no breath of
spring cheers the murky solitude in which I dwell. The ox and the barb
herd together in one stall: the rooster and the phoenix feed together
from one dish. Exposed to mist and dew, I had many times thought to die;
and yet, through the seasons of two revolving years, disease hovered
around me in vain. The dark, unhealthy soil to me became Paradise
itself. For there was that within me which misfortune could not steal
away. And so