Page:Gems of Chinese literature (1922).djvu/169

 bamboos. Day and night no sounds reach my ears save the blood-stained note of the goatsucker, the gibbon's mournful wail. Hill songs I have, and village pipes with their harsh discordant twang. But now that I listen to thy lute’s discourse, methinks ’tis the music of the Gods. Prithee sit down awhile and sing to us yet again, while I commit thy story to writing.”

