卷四 西湖南路

卷四 西湖南路

张岱

柳洲亭

柳洲亭，宋初为丰乐楼。高宗移汴民居杭地嘉、湖诸郡，时岁丰稔，建此楼以与民同乐，故名。门以左，孙东瀛建问水亭。高柳长堤，楼船画舫会合亭前，雁次相缀。朝则解维，暮则收缆。车马喧阗，驺从嘈杂，一派人声，扰嚷不已。堤之东尽为三义庙。过小桥折而北，则吾大父之寄园、铨部戴斐君之别墅。折而南，则钱麟武阁学、商等轩冢宰、祁世培柱史、余武贞殿撰、陈襄范掌科各家园亭，鳞集于此。过此，则孝廉黄元辰之池上轩、富春周中翰之芙蓉园，比闾皆是。今当兵燹之后，半椽不剩，瓦砾齐肩，蓬蒿满目。李文叔作《洛阳名园记》，谓以名园之兴废，卜洛阳之盛衰；以洛阳之盛衰，卜天下之治乱。诚哉言也！余于甲午年，偶涉于此，故宫离黍，荆棘铜驼，感慨悲伤，几效桑苎翁之游苕溪，夜必恸哭而返。

旧时湖心亭

张杰《柳洲亭》诗：

谁为鸿濛凿此陂，涌金门外即瑶池。平沙水月三千顷，画舫笙歌十二时。今古有诗难绝唱，乾坤无地可争奇。溶溶漾漾年年绿，销尽黄金总不知。

王思任《问水亭》诗：

我来一清步，犹未拾寒烟。灯外兼星外，沙边更槛边。孤山供好月，高雁语空天。辛苦西湖水，人还即熟眠。

赵汝愚《丰乐楼柳梢青》词：

水月光中，烟霞影里，涌出楼台。空外笙箫，云间笑语，人在蓬莱。

天香暗逐风回，正十里荷花盛开。买个小舟，山南游遍，山北归来。

灵芝寺

灵芝寺，钱武肃王之故苑也。地产灵芝，舍以为寺。至宋而规制寖宏，高、孝两朝四临幸焉。内有浮碧轩、依光堂，为新进士题名之所。元末毁，明永乐初僧竺源再造，万历二十二年重修。余幼时至其中看牡丹，干高丈馀，而花蕊烂熳，开至数千馀朵，湖中夸为盛事。寺畔有显应观，高宗以祀崔府君也。崔名子玉，唐贞观间为磁州阳令，有异政，民生祠之，既卒，为神。高宗为康王时，避金兵，走钜鹿，马毙，冒雨独行，路值三歧，莫知所往。忽有白马在道，鞚驭乘之，驰至崔祠，马忽不见。但见祠马赭汗如雨，遂避宿祠中。梦神以杖击地，促其行。趋出门，马复在户，乘至斜桥，会耿仲南来迎，策马过涧，见水即化。视之，乃崔府君祠中泥马也。及即位，立祠报德，累朝崇奉异常。六月六日是其生辰，游人阗塞。

张岱《灵芝寺》诗：

项羽曾悲骓不逝，活马犹然如泥塑。焉有泥马去如飞，等闲直至黄河渡。一堆龙骨蜕厓前，迢递芒砀迷云路。茕茕一介走亡人，身陷柏人脱然过。建炎尚是小朝廷，百灵亦复加呵护。

钱王祠

钱镠，临安石鉴乡人，骁勇有谋略。壮而微，贩盐自活。唐僖宗时，平浙寇王仙芝，拒黄巢，灭董昌，积功自显。梁开平元年，封镠为吴越王。有讽镠拒梁命者，镠笑曰：“吾岂失一孙仲谋耶！”遂受之。改其乡为临安县，军为锦衣军。是年，省茔垄，延故老，旌钺鼓吹，振耀山谷。自昔游钓之所，尽蒙以锦绣，或树石至有封官爵者，旧贸盐担，亦裁锦韬之。一邻媪九十馀，携壶泉迎于道左，镠下车亟拜。媪抚其背，以小字呼之曰：“钱婆留，喜汝长成。”盖初生时，光怪满室，父惧，将沉于了溪，此媪苦留之，遂字焉，为牛酒大陈，以饮乡人；别张蜀锦为广幄，以饮乡妇。年上八十者饮金爵，百岁者饮玉爵。镠起劝酒，自唱还乡歌以娱宾，曰：“玉节还乡兮挂锦衣，父老远近来相随。斗牛光起天无欺，吴越一王驷马归。”时将筑宫殿，望气者言：“因故府大之，不过百年；填西湖之半，可得千年。”武肃笑曰：“焉有千年而其中不出真主者乎？奈何困吾民为！”遂弗改造。宋熙宁间，苏子瞻守郡，请以龙山废祠妙音院者，改为表忠观以祀之。今废。明嘉靖三十九年，督抚胡宗宪建祠于灵芝寺址，塑三世五王像，春秋致祭，令其十九世孙德洪者守之。郡守陈柯重镌表忠观碑记于祠。

苏轼《表忠观碑记》：

熙宁十年十月戊子，资政殿大学士、右谏议大夫、知杭州军事臣抃言：“故越国王钱氏坟庙，及其父、祖、妃、夫人、子孙之坟，在钱塘者二十有六，在临安者十有一，皆芜秽不治，父老过之，有流涕者。谨按：故武肃王镠，始以乡兵破走黄巢，名闻江淮。复以八都兵讨刘汉宏，并越州以奉董昌，而自居于杭。及昌以越叛，则诛昌而并越，尽有浙东西之地，传其子文穆王元瓘。至其孙忠献王仁佐，遂破李景兵而取福州。而仁佐之弟忠懿王俶又大出兵攻景，以迎周世宗之师，其后，卒以国入觐。三世四王，与五代相为终始。天下大乱，豪杰蜂起，方是时，以数州之地盗名字者不可胜数，既覆其族，延及于无辜之民，罔有孑遗。而吴越地方千里，带甲十万，铸山煮海，象犀珠玉之富甲于天下，然终不失臣节，贡献相望于道。是以其民至于老死不识兵革，四时嬉游，歌舞之声相闻，至于今不废。其有德于斯民甚厚。皇帝受命，四方僭乱，以次削平。西蜀江南，负其险远，兵至城下，力屈势穷，然后束手。而河东刘氏百战守死，以抗王师，积骸为城，洒血为池，竭天下之力，仅乃克之。独吴越不待告命，封府库，籍郡县，请吏于朝，视去国如传舍，其有功于朝廷甚大。昔窦融以河西归汉，光武诏右扶风修其父祖坟茔，祀以太牢。今钱氏功德殆过于融，而未及百年，坟庙不治，行道伤嗟，甚非所以劝奖忠臣、慰答民心之义也。臣愿以龙山废佛寺曰妙音院者为观，使钱氏之孙为道士曰自然者居之。凡坟庙之在钱塘者，以付自然。其在临安者，以付其县之净土寺僧曰道微。岁各度其徒一人，使世掌之。籍其地之所入，以时修其祠宇，封植其草木。有不治者，县令亟察之，甚者，易其人，庶几永终不堕，以称朝廷待钱氏之意。臣抃昧死以闻。”制曰：可。其妙音院赐改名表忠观。

铭曰：天目之山，苕水出焉。龙飞凤舞，萃于临安。笃生异人，绝类离群。奋挺大呼，从者如云。仰天誓江，月星晦蒙。强弩射潮，江海为东。杀宏诛昌，奄在吴越。金券玉册，虎符龙节。大城其居，包络山川。左江右湖，控引岛蛮。岁时归休，以燕父老。晔如神人，玉带球马。四十一年，寅畏小心。厥篚相望，大贝南金。五胡昏乱，罔堪托国。三王相承，以符有德。既获所归，弗谋弗咨。先王之志，我维行之。天祚忠孝，世有爵邑。允文允武，子孙千亿。帝谓守臣，治其祠坟。毋俾樵牧，愧其后昆。龙山之阳，岿焉斯官。匪私于钱，惟以劝忠。非忠无君，非孝无亲。凡百有位，视此刻文。

张岱《钱王祠》诗：

扼定东南十四州，五王并不事兜鍪。英雄球马朝天子，带砺山河拥冕旒。大树千株被锦绂，钱塘万弩射潮头。五胡纷扰中华地，歌舞西湖近百秋。

又《钱王祠柱铭》：

力能分土，提乡兵杀宏诛昌，一十四州，鸡犬桑麻，撑住东南半壁。

志在顺天，求真主迎周归宋，九十八年，象犀筐篚，混同吴越一家。

净慈寺

净慈寺，周显德元年钱王俶建，号慧日永明院，迎衢州道潜禅师居之。潜尝欲向王求金铸十八阿罗汉，未白也。王忽夜梦十八巨人随行。翌日，道潜以请，王异而许之，始作罗汉堂。宋建隆初，禅师延寿以佛祖大意，经纶正宗，撰《宗镜录》一百卷，遂作宗镜堂。熙宁中，郡守陈襄延僧宗本居之。岁旱，湖水尽涸。寺西隅甘泉出，有金色鳗鱼游焉，因凿井，寺僧千馀人饮之不竭，名曰圆照井。南渡时，毁而复建，僧道容鸠工五岁始成。塑五百阿罗汉，以田字殿贮之。绍兴九年，改赐净慈报恩光化寺额。复毁。孝宗时，一僧募缘修殿，日餍酒肉而返，寺僧问其所募钱几何，曰：“尽饱腹中矣。”募化三年，簿上布施金钱，一一开载明白。一日，大喊街头曰：“吾造殿矣。”复置酒肴，大醉市中，揠喉大呕，撒地皆成黄金，众缘自是毕集，而寺遂落成。僧名济颠。识者曰：“是即永明后身也。”嘉泰间，复毁，再建于嘉定三年。寺故闳大，甲于湖山。翰林程珌记之，有“湿红映地，飞翠侵霄，檐转鸾翎，阶排雁齿。星垂珠网，宝殿洞乎琉璃；日耀璇题，金椽耸乎玳瑁”之语。时宰官建议，以京辅佛寺推次甲乙，尊表五山，为诸刹纲领，而净慈与焉。先是，寺僧艰汲，担水湖滨。绍定四年，僧法薰以锡杖扣殿前地，出泉二派，鍫为双井，水得无缺。淳祐十年，建千佛阁，理宗书“华严法界正偏知阁”八字赐之。元季，湖寺尽毁，而兹寺独存。明洪武间毁，僧法净重建。正统间复毁，僧宗妙复建。万历二十年，司礼监孙隆重修，铸铁鼎，葺钟楼，构井亭，架棹楔。永乐间，建文帝隐遁于此，寺中有其遗像，状貌魁伟，迥异常人。

袁宏道《莲花洞小记》：

莲花洞之前为居然亭。亭轩豁可望，每一登览，则湖光献碧，须眉形影，如落镜中。六桥杨柳，一路牵风引浪，萧疏可爱。晴雨烟月，风景互异，净慈之绝胜处也。洞石玲珑若生，巧逾雕镂。余常谓吴山南屏一派皆石骨土肤。中空四达，愈搜愈出。近若宋氏园亭，皆搜得者。又紫阳宫石，为孙内使搜出者甚多。噫，安得五丁神将，挽钱塘江水，将尘泥洗尽，出其奇奥，当何如哉！

王思任《净慈寺》诗：

净寺何年出，西湖长翠微。佛雄香较细，云饱绿交肥。岩竹支僧阁，泉花蹴客衣。酒家莲叶上，鸥鹭往来飞。

小蓬莱

小蓬莱在雷峰塔右，宋内侍甘升园也。奇峰如云，古木蓊蔚，理宗常临幸。有御爱松，盖数百年物也。自古称为小蓬莱。石上有宋刻“青云岩”“鳌峰”等字。今为黄贞父先生读书之地，改名“寓林”，题其石为“奔云”。余谓“奔云”得其情，未得其理。石如滇茶一朵，风雨落之，半入泥土，花瓣棱棱，三四层摺。人走其中，如蝶入花心，无须不缀。色黝黑如英石，而苔藓之古，如商彝周鼎入土千年，青绿彻骨也。贞父先生为文章宗匠，门人数百人。一时知名士，无不出其门下者。余幼时从大父访先生。先生面黧黑，多髭须，毛颊，河目海口，眉棱鼻梁，张口多笑。交际酬酢，八面应之。耳聆客言，目睹来牍，手书回札，口属傒奴，杂沓于前，未尝少错。客至，无贵贱，便肉、便饭食之，夜即与同榻。余一书记往，颇秽恶，先生寝食之无异也。天启丙寅，余至寓林，亭榭倾圮，堂中窀先生遗蜕，不胜人琴之感。今当丁酉，再至其地，墙围俱倒，竟成瓦砾之场。余欲筑室于此，以为东坡先生专祠，往鬻其地，而主人不肯。但林木俱无，苔藓尽剥。“奔云”一石，亦残缺失次，十去其五。数年之后，必鞠为茂草，荡为冷烟矣。菊水桃源，付之一想。

张岱《小蓬莱奔云石》诗：

滇茶初着花，忽为风雨落。簇簇起波棱，层层界轮廓。如蝶缀花心，步步堪咀嚼。薜萝杂松楸，阴翳罩轻幕。色同黑漆古，苔斑解竹箨。土绣鼎彝文，翡翠兼丹雘。雕琢真鬼工，仍然归浑朴。须得十年许，解衣恣盘礴。况遇主人贤，胸中有丘壑。此石是寒山，吾语尔能诺。

雷峰塔

雷峰者，南屏山之支麓也。穹窿回映，旧名中峰，亦名回峰。宋有雷就者居之，故名雷峰。吴越王于此建塔，始以十三级为准，拟高千尺。后财力不敷，止建七级。古称王妃塔。元末失火，仅存塔心。雷峰夕照，遂为西湖十景之一。曾见李长蘅题画有云：“吾友闻子将尝言：‘湖上两浮屠，保俶如美人，雷峰如老衲。’予极赏之。辛亥在小筑，与沈方回池上看荷花，辄作一诗，中有句云：‘雷峰倚天如醉翁’。严印持见之，跃然曰：‘子将老衲不如子醉翁，尤得其情态也。’盖余在湖上山楼，朝夕与雷峰相对，而暮山紫气，此翁颓然其间，尤为醉心。然予诗落句云：‘此翁情淡如烟水。’则未尝不以子将老衲之言为宗耳。癸丑十月醉后题。”

林逋《雷峰》诗：

中峰一径分，盘折上幽云。夕照前林见，秋涛隔岸闻。长松标古翠，疏竹动微薰。自爱苏门啸，怀贤事不群。

张岱《雷峰塔》诗：

闻子状雷峰，老僧挂偏裻。日日看西湖，一生看不足。时有薰风至，西湖是酒床。醉翁潦倒立，一口吸西江。惨淡一雷峰，如何擅夕照。遍体是烟霞，掀髯复长啸。怪石集南屏，寓林为其窟。岂是米襄阳，端严具袍笏。

包衙庄

西湖之船有楼，实包副使涵所创为之。大小三号：头号置歌筵，储歌童；次载书画；再次偫美人。涵老声伎非侍妾比，仿石季伦、宋子京家法，都令见客。常靓妆走马，媻姗勃窣，穿柳过之，以为笑乐。明槛绮疏，曼讴其下，擪籥弹筝，声如莺试。客至，则歌童演剧，队舞鼓吹，无不绝伦。乘兴一出，住必浃旬，观者相逐，问其所止。

南园在雷峰塔下，北园在飞来峰下。两地皆石薮，积牒磊砢，无非奇峭。但亦借作溪涧桥梁，不于山上叠山，大有文理。大厅以拱斗抬梁，偷其中间四柱，队舞狮子甚畅。

北园作八卦房，园亭如规，分作八格，形如扇面。当其狭处，横亘一床，帐前后开合，下里帐则床向外，下外帐则床向内。涵老据其中，扃上开明窗，焚香倚枕，则八床面面皆出。穷奢极欲，老于西湖者二十年。金谷、郿坞，着一毫寒俭不得，索性繁华到底，亦杭州人所谓“左右是左右”也。

西湖大家，何所不有，西子有时亦贮金屋。咄咄书空，则穷措大耳。

陈函辉《南屏包庄》诗：

独创楼船水上行，一天夜气识金银。歌喉裂石惊鱼鸟，灯火分光入藻。潇洒西园出声伎，豪华金谷集文人。自来寂寞皆唐突，虽是逋仙亦恨贫。

南高峰

南高峰在南北诸山之界，羊肠佶屈，松篁葱蒨，非芒鞋布袜，努策支筇，不可陟也。塔居峰顶，晋天福间建，崇宁、乾道两度重修。元季毁。旧七级，今存三级。塔中四望，则东瞰平芜，烟销日出，尽湖中之景。南俯大江，波涛洄洑，舟楫隐见杳霭间。西接岩窦，怪石翔舞，洞穴邃密。其侧有瑞应像，巧若鬼工。北瞩陵阜，陂陀曼延，箭枥丛出，麦连云。山椒巨石屹如峨冠者，名先照坛，相传道者镇魔处。峰顶有钵盂潭、颍川泉，大旱不涸，大雨不盈。潭侧有白龙洞。

道隐《南高峰》诗：

南北高峰两郁葱，朝朝滃浡海烟封。极颠螺髻飞云栈，半岭峨冠怪石供。三级浮屠巢老鹘，一泓清水豢痴龙。倘思济胜烦携具，布袜芒鞋策短筇。

烟霞石屋

由太子湾南折而上为石屋岭。过岭为大仁禅寺，寺左为烟霞石屋。屋高厂虚明，行迤二丈六尺，状如轩榭，可布几筵。洞上周镌罗汉五百十六身。其底邃窄通幽，阴翳杳霭。侧有蝙蝠洞，蝙蝠大者如鸦，挂搭连牵，互衔其尾。粪作奇臭，古庙高梁，多受其累。会稽禹庙亦然。由山椒右旋为新庵，王子安亹、陈章侯洪绶尝读书其中。余往访之，见石如飞来峰，初经洗出，洁不去肤，隽不伤骨，一洗杨髡凿佛之惨。峭壁奇峰，忽露生面，为之大快。建炎间，里人避兵其内，数千人皆获免。岭下有水乐洞，嘉泰间为杨郡王别圃。垒石筑亭，结构精雅。年久芜秽不治，水乐绝响。贾秋壑以厚直得之，命寺僧深求水乐所以兴废者，不得其说。一日，秋壑往游，俯睨旁听，悠然有会，曰：“谷虚而后能应，水激而后能响，今水潴其中，土壅其外，欲其发响，得乎？”亟命疏壅导潴，有声从洞涧出，节奏自然。二百年胜概，一日始复。乃筑亭，以所得东坡真迹，刻置其上。

苏轼《水乐洞小记》：

钱塘东南有水乐洞，泉流岩中，皆自然宫商。又自灵隐、下天竺而上，至上天竺，溪行两山间，巨石磊磊如牛羊，其声空砻然，真若钟鼓，乃知庄生所谓天籁，盖无在不有也。

袁宏道《烟霞洞小记》：

烟霞洞，亦古亦幽，凉沁入骨，乳汁涔涔下。石屋虚明开朗，如一片云，欹侧而立，又如轩榭，可布几筵。余凡两过石屋，为佣奴所据，嘈杂若市，俱不得意而归。

张京元《石屋小记》：

石屋寺，寺卑下无可观。岩下石龛，方广十笏，遂以屋称。屋内，好事者置一石榻，可坐。四旁刻石像如傀儡，殊不雅驯。想以幽僻得名耳。出石屋西，上下山坡夹道皆丛桂，秋时着花，香闻数十里，堪称金粟世界。

又《烟霞寺小记》：

烟霞寺在山上，亦荒落，系中贵孙隆易创，颇新整。殿后开宕取土，石骨尽出，巉峭可观。由殿右稍上两三盘，经象鼻峰东折数十武，为烟霞洞。洞外小亭踞之，望钱塘如带。

李流芳《题烟霞春洞画》：

从烟霞寺山门下眺，林壑窈窕，非复人境。李花时尤奇，真琼林瑶岛也。犹记与闲孟、无际，自法相寺至烟霞洞，小憩亭子，渴甚，无从得酒。见两伧父携榼至，闲孟口流涎，遽从乞饮，伧父不顾。予辈大怪。偶见梁间恶诗书一板上，乃抉而掷之。伦父跄踉而走。念此辄喷饭不已也。

高丽寺

高丽寺本名慧因寺，后唐天成二年，吴越钱武肃王建也。宋元丰八年，高丽国王子僧统义天入贡，因请净源法师学贤首教。元祐二年，以金书汉译《华严经》三百部入寺，施金建华严大阁藏塔以尊崇之。元祐四年，统义天以祭奠净源为名，兼进金塔二座。杭州刺史苏轼疏言：“外夷不可使屡入中国，以疏边防，金塔宜却弗受。”神宗从之。元延祐四年，高丽沈王奉诏进香幡经于此。至正末毁，洪武初重葺。俗称高丽寺。础石精工，藏轮宏丽，两山所无。万历间，僧如通重修。余少时从先宜人至寺烧香，出钱三百，命舆人推转轮藏，轮转呀呀，如鼓吹初作。后旋转熟滑，藏轮如飞，推者莫及。

法相寺

法相寺俗称长耳相。后唐时，有僧法真，有异相，耳长九寸，上过于顶，下可结颐，号长耳和尚。天成二年，自天台国清寒岩来游，钱武肃王待以宾礼，居法相院。至宋乾祐四年正月六日，无疾，坐方丈，集徒众，沐浴，趺跏而逝。弟子辈漆其真身，供佛龛，谓是定光佛后身。妇女祈求子嗣者，悬幡设供无虚日。以此法相名著一时。寺后有锡杖泉，水盆活石。僧厨香洁，斋供精良。寺前茭白笋，其嫩如玉，其香如兰，入口甘芳，天下无比。然须在新秋八月，余时不能也。

袁宏道《法相寺拜长耳和尚肉身戏题》：

轮相居然足，漆光与鉴新。神魂知也未，爪齿幻耶真。古董休疑客，庄严不待人。饶他金与石，到此亦成尘。

徐渭《法相寺看活石》：

莲花不在水，分叶簇青山。径折虽能入，峰迷不待还。取蒲量石长，问竹到溪湾。莫怪掩斜日，明朝恐未闲。

张京元《法相寺小记》：

法相寺不甚丽，而香火骈集。定光禅师长耳遗蜕，妇人谒之，以为宜男，争摩顶腹，漆光可鉴。寺右数十武，度小桥，折而上，为锡杖泉。涓涓细流，虽大旱不竭。经流处，僧置一砂缸，挹注供爨。久之，水土锈结，蒲生其上，厚且数寸，竟不见缸质，因名蒲缸。倘可铲置研池炉足，古董家不秦汉不道矣。

李流芳《题法相山亭画》：

去年在法相，有送友人诗云：“十年法相松间寺，此日淹留却共君。忽忽送君无长物，半间亭子一溪云。”时与方回、孟旸避暑竹阁，连夜风雨，泉声轰轰不绝。又有题扇头小景一诗：“夜半溪阁响，不知风雨歇。起视杳霭间，悠然见微月。”一时会心，不知作何语。今日展此，亦自可思也。壬子十月大佛寺倚醉楼灯下题。

于坟

于坟，于少保公以再造功，受冤身死，被刑之日，阴霾翳天，行路踊叹。夫人流山海关，梦公曰：“吾形殊而魂不乱，独目无光明，借汝眼光见形于皇帝。”翌日，夫人丧其明。会奉天门灾，英庙临视，公形见火光中。上悯然念其忠，乃诏贷夫人归。又梦公还眼光，目复明也。公遗骸，都督陈逵密属瘗藏。继子冕请葬钱塘祖茔，得旨奉葬于此。成化二年，廷议始白。上遣行人马暶谕祭。其词略曰：“当国家之多难，保社稷以无虞；惟公道以自持，为权奸之所害。先帝已知其枉，而朕心实怜其忠。”弘治七年赐谥曰“肃愍”，建祠曰“旌功”。万历十八年，改谥“忠肃”。四十二年，御使杨鹤为公增廓祠宇，庙貌巍焕，属云间陈继儒作碑记之。碑曰：“大抵忠臣为国，不惜死，亦不惜名。不惜死，然后有豪杰之敢；不惜名，然后有圣贤之闷。黄河之排山倒海，是其敢也；即能伏流地中万三千里，又能千里一曲，是其闷也。昔者土木之变，裕陵北狩，公痛哭抗疏，止南迁之议，召勤王之师。卤拥帝至大同，至宣府，至京城下，皆登城谢曰：‘赖天地宗社之灵，国有君矣。’此一见《左传》：楚人伏兵车，执宋公以伐宋。公子目夷令宋人应之曰：赖社稷之灵，国已有君矣。楚人知虽执宋公，犹不得宋国，于是释宋公。又一见《廉颇传》：秦王逼赵王会渑池。廉颇送至境曰：‘王行，度道里会遇礼毕还，不过三十日，不还，则请立太子为王，以绝秦望。’又再见《王旦传》：契丹犯边，帝幸澶州。旦曰：‘十日乏内，未有捷报，当何如？’帝默然良久，曰：‘立皇太子。’三者，公读书得力处也。由前言之，公为宋之目夷；由后言之，公不为廉颇、旦，何也？呜呼！茂陵之立而复废，废而后当立，谁不知之？公之识，岂出王直、李侃、朱英下？又岂出钟同、章纶下？盖公相时度势，有不当言者，有不必言者。当裕陵在卤，茂陵在储，拒父则卫辄，迎父则高宗，战不可，和不可，无一而可。为制卤地，此不当言也。裕陵既返，见济薨，郕王病，天人攸归，非裕陵而谁？又非茂陵而谁？明率百官，朝请复辟，直以遵晦待时耳，此不必言也。若徐有贞、曹、石夺门之举，乃变局，非正局；乃劫局，非迟局；乃纵横家局，非社稷大臣局也。或曰：盍去诸？呜呼！公何可去也。公在则裕陵安，而茂陵亦安。若公诤之，而公去之，则南宫之锢，不将烛影斧声乎？东宫之废后，不将宋之德昭乎？公虽欲调王之兄弟，而实密护吾君之父子，乃知回銮，公功；其他日得以复辟，公功也；复储亦公功也。人能见所见，而不能见所不见。能见者，豪杰之敢；不能见者，圣贤之闷。敢于任死，而闷于暴君，公真古大臣之用心也哉！”公祠既盛，而四方之祈梦至者接踵，而答如响。

王思任《吊于忠肃祠》诗：

涕割西湖水，于坟望岳坟。孤烟埋碧血，太白黯妖氛。社稷留还我，头颅掷与君。南城得意骨，何处暮杨闻。一派笙歌地，千秋寒食朝。白云心浩浩，黄叶泪萧萧。天柱擎鸿社，人生付鹿蕉。北邙今古讳，几突丽山椒。

张溥《吊于忠肃》诗：

栝柏风严辞月明，至今两袖识书生。青山魂魄分夷夏，白日须眉见太平。一死钱塘潮尚怒，孤坟岳渚水同清。莫言软美人如土，夜夜天河望帝京。

张岱《于少保祠》诗：

平生有力济危川，百二山河去复旋。宗泽死心援北狩，李纲痛哭止南迁。渑池立子还无日，社稷呼君别有天。复辟南宫岂是夺，借公一死取貂蝉。社稷存亡股掌中，反因罪案风精忠。以君孤注忧王旦，分我杯羹归太公。但使庐陵存外邸，自知冕服返桐宫。属镂赐死非君意，曾道于谦实有功。

杨鹤《于坟华表柱铭》：

赤手挽银河，君自大名垂宇宙；青山埋白骨，我来何处哭英雄。

又《正祠柱铭》：

千古痛钱塘，并楚国孤臣，白马江边，怒卷千堆夜雪；两朝冤少保，同岳家父子，夕阳亭里，伤心两地风波。

董其昌《于少保祠柱铭》：

赖社稷之灵，国已有君，自分一腔抛热血；竭股肱之力，继之以死，独留青白在人间。

张岱《于少保柱铭》：

宋室无谋，岁输卤数万币，和议既成，安得两宫归朔漠；汉家斗智，幸分我一杯羹，挟求非计，不劳三寸返新丰。

张岱《定香桥小记》：

甲戌十月，携楚生住不系园看红叶。至定香桥，客不期而至者八人：南京曾波臣，东阳赵纯卿，金坛彭天锡，诸暨陈章侯，杭州杨与民、陆九、罗三，女伶陈素芝。余留饮。章侯携缣素为纯卿画古佛，波臣为纯卿写照，杨与民弹三弦子，罗三唱曲，陆九吹箫。与民复出寸许界尺，据小梧，用北调说《金瓶梅》一剧，使人绝倒。是夜，彭天锡与罗三、与民串本腔戏，妙绝；与楚生、素芝串调腔戏，又复妙绝。章侯唱村落小歌，余取琴和之，牙牙如语。纯卿笑曰：“恨弟无一长，以侑兄辈酒。”余曰：“唐裴将军旻居丧，请吴道子画天宫壁度亡母。道子曰：‘将军为我舞剑一回，庶因猛厉以通幽冥。’旻脱缞衣，缠结，上马驰骤，挥剑入云，高十数丈，若电光下射，执鞘承之，剑透室而入，观者惊栗。道子奋袂如风，画壁立就。章侯为纯卿画佛，而纯卿舞剑，正今日事也。”纯卿跳身起，取其竹节鞭，重三十斤，作胡旋舞数缠，大噱而罢。

风篁岭

风篁岭，多苍筤筿，风韵凄清。至此，林壑深沉，迥出尘表。流淙活活，自龙井而下，四时不绝。岭故丛薄荒密。元丰中，僧辨才淬治洁楚，名曰“风篁岭”。苏子瞻访辨才于龙井，送至岭上，左右惊曰：“远公过虎溪矣。”辨才笑曰：“杜子有云：‘与子成二老，来往亦风流。”遂造亭岭上，名曰“过溪”，亦曰“二老”。子瞻记之，诗云：“日月转双毂，古今同一丘。惟此鹤骨老，凛然不知秋。去住两无碍，人土争挽留。去如龙出水，雷雨卷潭秋。来如珠还浦，鱼鳖争骈头。此生暂寄寓，常恐名实浮。我比陶令愧，师为远公优。送我过虎溪，溪水当逆流。聊使此山人，永记二老游。”

李流芳《风篁岭》诗：

林壑深沉处，全凭筿迷。片云藏屋里，二老到云栖。学士留龙井，远公过虎溪。烹来石岩白，翠色映玻璃。

龙井

南山上下有两龙井。上为老龙井，一泓寒碧，清洌异常，弃之丛薄间，无有过而问之者。其地产茶，遂为两山绝品。再上为天门，可通三竺。南为九溪，路通徐村，水出江干。其西为十八涧，路通月轮山，水出六和塔。下龙井本名延恩衍庆寺。唐乾祐二年，居民募缘改造为报国看经院。宋熙宁中，改寿圣院，东坡书额。绍兴三十一年，改广福院。淳祐六年，改龙井寺。元丰二年，辨才师自天竺归老于此，不复出，与苏子瞻、赵阅道友善。后人建三贤阁祀之，岁久寺圮。万历二十三年，司礼孙公重修，构亭轩，筑桥，锹浴龙池，创霖雨阁，焕然一新，游人骈集。

一片云

神运石在龙井寺中，高六尺许，奇怪突兀，特立檐下。有木香一架，穿绕窍窦，蟠若龙蛇。正统十三年，中贵李德驻龙井。天旱，令力士淘之。初得铁牌二十四、玉佛一座、金银一锭，凿大宋元丰年号。后得此石，以八十人舁起之。上有“神运”二字，旁多款识，漶漫不可读，不知何代所镌，大约皆投龙以祈雨者也。风篁岭上有一片云石，高可丈许，青润玲珑，巧若镂刻。松磴盘屈，草莽间有石洞，堆砌工致巉岩。石后有片云亭，司礼孙公所构，设石棋枰于前，上镌“兴来临水敲残月，谈罢吟风倚片云”之句。游人倚徙，不忍遽去。

秦观《龙井题名记》：

元丰二年，中秋后一日，余自吴兴来杭，东还会稽。龙井有辨才大师，以书邀余入山。比出郭，日已夕，航湖至普宁，遇道人参寥，问龙井所遣篮舆，则曰：“以不时至，去矣。”是夕，天宇开霁，林间月明，可数毫发。遂弃舟，从参寥策杖并湖而行。出雷峰，度南屏，濯足于惠因涧，入灵石坞，得支径上风篁岭，憩于龙井亭，酌泉据石而饮之。自普宁凡经佛寺十五，皆寂不闻人声。道旁庐舍，灯火隐显，草木深郁，流水激激悲鸣，殆非人间之境。行二鼓，始至寿圣院，谒辨才于朝音堂，明日乃还。

张京元《龙井小记》：

过风篁岭，是为龙井，即苏端明、米海岳与辨才往来处也。寺北向，门内外修竹琅琅。并在殿左，泉出石罅，甃小园池，下复为方池承之。池中各有巨鱼，而水无腥气。池淙淙下泻，绕寺门而出。小坐，与亭玩一片云石。山僧汲水供茗，泉味包俱清。僧容亦枯寂，视诸山迥异。

王稚登《龙井诗》：

深谷盘回入，灵泉觱沸流。隔林先作雨，到寺不胜秋。古殿龙王在，空林鹿女游。一尊斜日下，独为古人留。

袁宏道《龙井》诗：

都说今龙井，幽奇逾昔时。路迂迷旧处，树古失名儿。渴仰鸡苏佛，乱参玉版师。破筒分谷水，芟草出秦碑。数盘行井上，百计引泉飞。画壁屯云族，红栏蚀水衣。路香茶叶长，畦小药苗肥。宏也学苏子，辨才君是非。

张岱《龙井柱铭》：

夜壑泉归，渥洼能致千岩雨；晓堂龙出，崖石皆为一片云。

九溪十八涧

九溪在烟霞岭西，龙井山南。其水屈曲洄环，九折而出，故称九溪。其地径路崎岖，草木蔚秀，人烟旷绝，幽阒静悄，别有天地，自非人间。溪下为十八涧，地故深邃，即缁流非遗世绝俗者，不能久居。按志，涧内有李岩寺、宋阳和王梅园、梅花径等迹，今都湮没无存。而地复辽远，僻处江干，老于西湖者，各名胜地寻讨无遗，问及九溪十八涧，皆茫然不能置对。

李流芳《十八涧》诗：

己酉始至十八涧，与孟旸、无际同到徐村第一桥，饭于桥上。溪流淙然，山势回合，坐久不能去。予有诗云：“溪九涧十八，到处流活活。我来三月中，春山雨初歇。奔雷与飞霰，耳目两奇绝。悠然向溪坐，况对山嵯嵲。我欲参云栖，此中解脱法。善哉汪子言，闲心随水灭。”无际亦有和余诗，忘之矣。

Fascicle Four: The Southern Route of West Lake

张岱

Willow Islet Pavilion

The Willow Islet Pavilion was, in the early Song, the Fengle Tower. Gaozong moved the people of Bian to Hangzhou and the prefectures of Jia and Hu; the harvests of those years being abundant, he built this tower to take his pleasure together with the people, and so it was named. To the left of its gate Sun Dongying built the Asking-the-Water Pavilion. With tall willows along the long embankment, storied barges and painted boats gather before the pavilion, ranged one behind another like wild geese. At dawn they cast off their moorings, at dusk they take in their lines. Carriages and horses clamour, outriders and attendants make a din, and the whole is one uproar of human voices, never still. At the eastern end of the embankment is the Temple of the Three Sworn Brothers. Crossing the small bridge and turning north, one comes to my grandfather's Jiyuan and the villa of Dai Feijun of the Ministry of Personnel. Turning south, the garden pavilions of Qian Linwu of the Hanlin, Shang Dengxuan the Minister of Personnel, Qi Shipei the Censor, Yu Wuzhen the Senior Compiler, and Chen Xiangfan the Supervising Secretary are gathered here thick as fish scales. Beyond these, the Pond-Side Lodge of the provincial graduate Huang Yuanchen and the Hibiscus Garden of Zhou of Fuchun, Secretary in the Ministry, stand one beside another all along. Now, after the ravages of war, not half a rafter is left; broken tiles reach shoulder-high and weeds fill the eye. When Li Wenshu wrote his Record of the Famous Gardens of Luoyang, he said that from the rise and fall of the famous gardens one may divine the flourishing and decline of Luoyang, and from the flourishing and decline of Luoyang one may divine the order and disorder of the empire. True words indeed! In the jiawu year I happened to pass this way, and among the millet of the old palace and the bronze camels in the thorns I was moved to such grief that I nearly followed the old man of the mulberry and ramie in his wanderings on the Tiao, who never came back at night without weeping bitterly.

The Mid-Lake Pavilion as It Once Was

Zhang Jie, "Willow Islet Pavilion":

Who in the primal chaos dug out this basin? Outside the Yongjin Gate lies the Jasper Pool. Three thousand qing of level sand, water and moon; painted boats with pipes and song at all twelve hours. Past and present, no poem can be the final one; between heaven and earth, no other place can vie in wonder. Brimming and rippling, green year after year, it spends up all our gold and never knows it.

Wang Siren, "Asking-the-Water Pavilion":

I have come for one clear stroll and have not yet gathered the cold mist. Beyond the lamps and beyond the stars, at the sand's edge and at the railing's edge. Solitary Hill offers up a fine moon; high geese talk in the empty sky. The waters of West Lake have laboured hard; when people go home they fall at once into sound sleep.

Zhao Ruyu, to the tune "Willow Tip Green," at the Fengle Tower:

In the light of water and moon, in the shadows of mist and rosy cloud, towers and terraces well up. Pipes and flutes out in the void, laughter among the clouds: one is in Penglai.

Heaven's fragrance turns back secretly with the wind, just as ten li of lotus come into full bloom. Buy a little boat, roam the whole south of the hill, and come home by the north of the hill.

Lingzhi Monastery

Lingzhi Monastery was formerly a park of King Wusu of the Qian. Magic fungus grew on the ground, and he gave it up to be a monastery. By the Song its scale had gradually grown grand, and the two courts of Gaozong and Xiaozong honoured it with four visits. Within are the Floating Green Lodge and the Yiguang Hall, where new graduates inscribed their names. It was destroyed at the end of the Yuan; early in Yongle of the Ming the monk Zhuyuan rebuilt it, and it was restored in the twenty-second year of Wanli. When I was young I went there to look at the peonies: the trunks were more than a zhang high, and the blossoms were in brilliant profusion, opening to several thousand flowers — a splendour talked of all round the lake. Beside the monastery is the Xianying Temple, which Gaozong founded to worship Lord Cui. Cui's name was Ziyu; in the Zhenguan years of the Tang he was magistrate of Cizhou and Yang, and his administration was remarkable, so the people built him a shrine while he lived, and after his death he became a god. When Gaozong was Prince of Kang and fleeing the Jin troops, he ran to Julu; his horse died, and he went on alone in the rain. At a fork of three roads he did not know which way to go. Suddenly a white horse stood in the road; he bridled and mounted it, and galloped to Cui's shrine, where the horse suddenly vanished. He saw only the shrine's horse, its russet flanks running with sweat as with rain, and so he stayed the night there. He dreamed the god struck the ground with his staff, urging him to go. Hurrying out of the gate, he found the horse again at the door, and rode it to Xie Bridge, where Geng Zhongnan came to meet him; he whipped the horse across the stream, and at the touch of water it dissolved. Looking at it, they saw it was the clay horse from Lord Cui's shrine. On ascending the throne he set up a shrine to repay the favour, and successive reigns revered it extraordinarily. The sixth day of the sixth month is his birthday, when sightseers throng the place.

Zhang Dai, "Lingzhi Monastery":

Xiang Yu once grieved that his Dapple would not go forward; a living horse, and yet like one moulded in clay. How should a clay horse go off as if flying, and reach the Yellow River crossing as though it were nothing? A heap of dragon bones sloughed off before the cliff; far away at Mangdang the cloudy road is lost. A solitary fugitive, one man running for his life, fell into Boren and got clear away. Jianyan was still a small court, yet all the spirits gave it their protection besides.

Shrine of the King of Qian

Qian Liu was a man of Shijian village in Lin'an, brave and full of stratagem. He grew up poor and lived by selling salt. In the time of Emperor Xizong of the Tang he put down the Zhe rebel Wang Xianzhi, held off Huang Chao, destroyed Dong Chang, and rose to distinction by accumulated merit. In the first year of Kaiping of the Liang, Liu was enfeoffed King of Wuyue. When someone hinted that he should refuse the Liang's command, Liu laughed and said, "Am I to lose a Sun Zhongmou?" and so accepted it. He changed his native district into Lin'an county and his army into the Brocade Robe Army. That year he visited the ancestral graves and invited the old men of the place, with banners, battle-axes and music resounding through the hills and valleys. Every place where he had once fished or roamed was covered with brocade and embroidery; some trees and rocks were even given official rank, and the old salt carrying-pole was wrapped in cut brocade. An old neighbour woman of more than ninety brought a jar of spring water and met him at the roadside; Liu got down from his carriage and bowed at once. The old woman stroked his back and called him by his childhood name: "Qian Poliu, I am glad you have grown up." For when he was born the room was filled with a strange light, and his father in fear was going to drown him in the Liao stream, but this old woman begged hard to keep him, and so he was given that name. He set out beef and wine in great array for the men of the village, and put up a broad canopy of Shu brocade for the village women. Those over eighty drank from golden cups, those a hundred years old from jade cups. Liu rose to urge the wine, and sang a homecoming song himself to entertain his guests: "With jade tally I come home, wearing brocade robes; elders from far and near come following after. The light of the Dipper and the Ox rises, and heaven does not deceive: the one king of Wuyue returns with his four horses." When he was about to build his palace, a diviner of vapours said: "Enlarge it on the old prefectural site, and it will not last a hundred years; fill in half of West Lake, and you may have a thousand." Wusu laughed and said, "How should there be a thousand years in which no true sovereign arises among them? Why distress my people for it?" And so he did not rebuild. In the Xining years of the Song, when Su Zizhan governed the prefecture, he asked that the abandoned Miaoyin Cloister on Dragon Hill be made the Temple for Manifesting Loyalty to sacrifice to him. It is now abolished. In the thirty-ninth year of Jiajing of the Ming, the Supreme Commander Hu Zongxian built a shrine on the site of Lingzhi Monastery, with images of the five kings of three generations, sacrifices in spring and autumn, and Dehong, his descendant in the nineteenth generation, appointed to keep it. The prefect Chen Ke had the stele record of the Temple for Manifesting Loyalty carved anew at the shrine.

Su Shi, "Stele Record of the Temple for Manifesting Loyalty":

On the wuzi day of the tenth month of the tenth year of Xining, your servant Bian, Grand Academician of the Zizheng Hall, Right Grand Master of Remonstrance, and administrator of military affairs at Hangzhou, submits: "The grave-temple of the late Qian, King of Yue, and the graves of his father, grandfather, consorts, ladies, sons and grandsons, number twenty-six at Qiantang and eleven at Lin'an, and all are overgrown and untended, so that the old men who pass them sometimes weep. I find that the late King Wusu, Liu, first broke and drove off Huang Chao with village troops, and his name was known through the Jiang and Huai. Then with the troops of the eight garrisons he punished Liu Hanhong, annexed Yuezhou and offered it to Dong Chang, while he himself held Hangzhou. When Chang rebelled with Yue, he executed Chang and annexed Yue, holding the whole land east and west of the Zhe, and passed it to his son King Wenmu, Yuanguan. By the time of his grandson King Zhongxian, Renzuo, he broke the troops of Li Jing and took Fuzhou; and Renzuo's younger brother King Zhongyi, Chu, again sent out great forces to attack Jing and welcomed the army of Shizong of the Zhou. In the end he came to court with his state. Three generations and four kings, they began and ended with the Five Dynasties. When the empire was in great disorder and the bold rose up like wasps, at that time those who usurped titles with the lands of a few prefectures were beyond counting, and when their clans were destroyed the ruin spread to innocent people until none were left. Yet Wuyue, with a thousand li of territory and a hundred thousand men in armour, mining its hills and boiling its sea, and richest in the empire in ivory, rhinoceros horn, pearls and jade, never failed in the duty of a subject, and its tribute missions were always in sight of one another on the road. Therefore its people lived to old age without knowing war, roamed and played through the four seasons, and the sound of song and dance answered one another — and it has not ceased to this day. His kindness to these people was very great. When the emperor received the mandate and the usurpations of the four quarters were put down one by one, western Shu and Jiangnan, relying on their remoteness and their passes, submitted only when troops were at their walls and their strength and resources were exhausted. The Liu of Hedong fought a hundred battles and held out to the death against the royal army, piling bones for a rampart and pouring out blood for a moat, so that only by exhausting the strength of the empire was it barely subdued. Wuyue alone, without waiting to be summoned, sealed its storehouses, registered its prefectures and counties, and asked the court for officials, leaving its state as one leaves a posting-house. Its service to the court was very great. Of old, when Dou Rong gave Hexi to the Han, Emperor Guangwu ordered the Prefect of the Right of Fufeng to repair the graves of his father and grandfather and sacrifice to them with the full offering. Now the merit of the Qian family surpasses Rong's, yet in less than a hundred years their graves and temples are untended, and passers-by lament — which is by no means the way to encourage loyal ministers or answer the hearts of the people. Your servant asks that the abandoned Buddhist temple on Dragon Hill called the Miaoyin Cloister be made a Daoist temple, and that a grandson of the Qian family, a Daoist named Ziran, be settled there. All the graves and temples at Qiantang shall be entrusted to Ziran; those at Lin'an to the monk Daowei of the Jingtu Monastery in that county. Each year let each ordain one disciple, so that the charge may be held in succession. Let the income of the lands be registered, so that the shrines may be repaired in season and their trees and plants tended. Where this is not done, let the county magistrate promptly investigate, and in bad cases replace the man, so that it may endure without lapse, answering the court's regard for the Qian family. Your servant Bian, braving death, reports." The rescript said: Approved. And the Miaoyin Cloister was granted the new name Temple for Manifesting Loyalty.

The inscription runs: From the hills of Tianmu the Tiao waters flow. Dragons flying, phoenixes dancing, gather at Lin'an. There was born an extraordinary man, far above his kind. He rose, brandished his arms and shouted, and followers came like clouds. He looked to heaven and swore by the river; moon and stars were darkened. Strong bows shot at the tide, and river and sea turned east. He killed Hong and executed Chang, and all Wuyue was his. Golden warrants and jade tablets, tiger tallies and dragon standards. He walled his dwelling great, embracing hills and rivers. River on the left, lake on the right, drawing in the island tribes. At the year's season he came home to rest and feasted the elders of his village. Bright as a spirit, with jade belt and ball-decked horse. For forty-one years he was reverent and careful. His tribute baskets were always in sight, great cowries and gold of the south. The Five Barbarians were in dark confusion, and the state could be entrusted to none. Three kings followed one another, matching the tally of the virtuous. Having found where to give it, he neither deliberated nor consulted. It was his former king's purpose, and he carried it out. Heaven blesses loyalty and filial piety with fiefs through the generations. Truly cultured and truly martial, his sons and grandsons in their thousands. The emperor said to the guardian ministers: tend his shrines and graves. Let none gather fuel or pasture there, to shame his descendants. On the sunny side of Dragon Hill this office stands lofty. This is no private favour to the Qian, but only to encourage loyalty. Without loyalty there is no lord; without filial piety, no parent. All you who hold office, look upon this carved text.

Zhang Dai, "Shrine of the King of Qian":

He held fast the fourteen prefectures of the southeast, and the five kings never took to the helmet. A hero on his ball-decked horse coming to court, with mountains and rivers pledged as his fief, he wore the crown's pendants. A thousand great trees were draped in brocade sashes; ten thousand crossbows at Qiantang shot at the tide's head. While the Five Barbarians threw the central land into turmoil, song and dance went on at West Lake for near a hundred autumns.

Again, "Pillar Inscription for the Shrine of the King of Qian":

His strength could divide the land: leading village troops he killed Hong and executed Chang; through fourteen prefectures, with fowl and dogs, mulberry and hemp, he propped up half the southeast.

His purpose was to follow heaven: seeking the true sovereign, he welcomed the Zhou and submitted to the Song; through ninety-eight years, with ivory and rhinoceros horn in tribute baskets, he made Wu and Yue one household.

Jingci Monastery

Jingci Monastery was built by Qian Chu, King of Qian, in the first year of Xiande of the Zhou, and called the Huiri Yongming Cloister; he invited Chan Master Daoqian of Quzhou to dwell in it. Qian had wished to ask the king for gold to cast eighteen arhats, but had not yet spoken of it. The king suddenly dreamed one night of eighteen giants following him. The next day Daoqian made his request; the king found it strange and granted it, and so the Arhat Hall was first built. At the beginning of Jianlong of the Song, Chan Master Yanshou, taking the great import of the Buddhas and patriarchs and setting in order the true school, composed the Record of the Mirror of the School in a hundred juan, and so the Mirror of the School Hall was built. In the Xining years the prefect Chen Xiang invited the monk Zongben to dwell there. In a year of drought the lake water dried up entirely, and a sweet spring came out at the western corner of the monastery, in which a golden eel swam; a well was therefore dug, and more than a thousand monks of the monastery drank from it without exhausting it. It was named the Yuanzhao Well. At the time of the southern crossing it was destroyed and rebuilt, and the monk Daorong gathered workmen and took five years to finish it. Five hundred arhats were moulded and housed in the Tian-shaped hall. In the ninth year of Shaoxing the tablet was changed to Jingci Bao'en Guanghua Monastery. Again it was destroyed. In Xiaozong's time a monk solicited alms to repair the hall, but came back each day gorged with wine and meat; when the monks asked how much he had collected, he said, "It has all gone to fill my belly." He begged for three years, and in his ledger every gift of money was set down clearly. One day he shouted in the street, "I have built the hall!" Then he laid out wine and food, got thoroughly drunk in the market, pressed his throat and vomited hugely, and everything scattered on the ground turned to gold. From then on the gifts all came in, and the monastery was completed. The monk's name was Jidian. Those who knew said, "This is Yongming come again." In the Jiatai years it was destroyed once more, and rebuilt in the third year of Jiading. The monastery was of old vast, first among the lake and hills. The Hanlin scholar Cheng Bi recorded it, with such phrases as: wet reds reflected on the ground, flying kingfisher greens invading the sky; eaves turning like a phoenix's wing-feathers, steps ranged like a wild goose's teeth; stars hanging in the pearl net, the treasure hall a cavern of lapis lazuli; the sun blazing on the jewelled plaque, its golden rafters rising like tortoiseshell. At that time an official proposed ranking the Buddhist monasteries of the capital region in order, honouring five mountains as chief among all the temples, and Jingci was one of them. Before this, the monks of the monastery had difficulty drawing water and carried it from the lakeside. In the fourth year of Shaoding the monk Faxun struck the ground before the hall with his tin staff, and two springs came out; they were dug into a double well, and water was never lacking. In the tenth year of Chunyou the Thousand Buddhas Pavilion was built, and Lizong wrote eight characters, "Pavilion of the Right and Universal Knowledge of the Huayan Dharma Realm," and bestowed them on it. At the end of the Yuan the temples about the lake were all destroyed, and this monastery alone survived. In the Hongwu years of the Ming it was destroyed, and the monk Fajing rebuilt it. In the Zhengtong years it was destroyed again, and the monk Zongmiao rebuilt it. In the twentieth year of Wanli, Sun Long of the Directorate of Ceremonial restored it, casting an iron tripod, repairing the bell tower, building the well pavilion and raising the gateway posts. In the Yongle years the Jianwen Emperor lived here in hiding, and the monastery has a portrait of him, of heroic appearance, quite unlike an ordinary man.

Yuan Hongdao, "A Short Record of Lotus Flower Cave":

Before Lotus Flower Cave is the Juran Pavilion. The pavilion is open and commanding, and at each ascent the lake's light offers up its green, and one's brows and beard, form and shadow, seem to fall into a mirror. The willows of the Six Bridges draw the wind and lead the waves all along, sparse and lovely. In sun and rain, mist and moon, the scene is different each time; it is the finest spot at Jingci. The cave's stone is delicate as if alive, more skilful than carving. I have often said that the whole range of Wu Hill and Nanping is stone bone with earth for skin: hollow within and open on four sides, the more one searches the more comes out. The recent garden pavilions of the Song family were all found by searching; and at the Ziyang Palace a great many stones were unearthed by the palace commissioner Sun. Ah, could one but get the five divine strongmen to draw the water of the Qiantang River and wash away all the dust and mud, revealing their strange depths — what would that be like!

Wang Siren, "Jingci Monastery":

In what year did the Jing monastery appear, where West Lake grows its kingfisher haze? The Buddha is majestic and the incense the finer for it; the clouds are sated and the greens grow thick together. Crag bamboo props up the monks' pavilion; spring flowers kick at the guest's clothes. At the wine-house on the lotus leaves, gulls and egrets come and go in flight.

Little Penglai

Little Penglai is to the right of Leifeng Pagoda; it was the garden of the Song palace attendant Gan Sheng. Strange peaks like clouds and dense ancient trees; Lizong often visited it. There is an imperially beloved pine, a thing of several hundred years. From of old it has been called Little Penglai. On the rocks are Song carvings of the characters "Blue Cloud Crag," "Turtle Peak" and the like. It is now the reading place of Master Huang Zhenfu, who renamed it "Yulin" and inscribed its rock "Rushing Cloud." I say that "Rushing Cloud" catches its feeling but not its principle. The rock is like a single Yunnan camellia blown down by wind and rain, half sunk in the mud, its petals ridged and folded three or four layers deep. Walking among them is like a butterfly entering the flower's heart, with not a stamen that does not touch one. Its colour is blue-black like Ying stone, and the antiquity of its moss is as of a Shang goblet or Zhou tripod a thousand years in the earth, the green gone through to the bone. Master Zhenfu was a master craftsman of letters with several hundred disciples, and there was no famous man of the day who had not come from his gate. When I was young I went with my grandfather to call on him. His face was dark, with a full beard and hairy cheeks, river eyes and a sea of a mouth, ridged brows and a high nose, and he laughed much with his mouth open. In social intercourse he answered on all eight sides at once: his ear listening to a guest's words, his eye reading an incoming letter, his hand writing a reply, his mouth giving orders to a servant, all jumbled together before him, and he never made the slightest mistake. Guests came, noble or humble, and he fed them plain meat and plain rice, and at night shared a couch with them. Once a secretary of mine went, a rather filthy fellow, and the master ate and slept with him just the same. In the bingyin year of Tianqi I came to Yulin: the pavilions had fallen in, and the master's remains lay buried in the hall, and I could not bear the grief of the man and his zither. Now in the dingyou year I came again: the walls had all fallen and it had become a field of rubble. I wished to build a house there as a shrine to Master Dongpo alone, and went to buy the land, but the owner would not sell. The trees are all gone and the moss quite stripped away; the "Rushing Cloud" rock too is broken and out of order, five parts in ten of it gone. In a few years it must be all rank grass and drifting cold mist. Chrysanthemum waters and Peach Blossom Spring — one can only imagine them.

Zhang Dai, "The Rushing Cloud Rock at Little Penglai":

The Yunnan camellia had just come into flower, and suddenly wind and rain brought it down. Cluster on cluster it rises in ridged waves; layer on layer it marks out its contours. Like a butterfly settling on the flower's heart, step by step it is worth savouring. Creepers mingled with pine and catalpa, their shade drawing a light curtain over it. Its colour is the black of ancient lacquer, its moss-spots like bamboo sheaths peeling. Rust of earth makes the patterns of tripods and goblets, kingfisher green together with cinnabar. Its carving is truly the work of spirits, yet it returns to plainness after all. One would need ten years or so to loosen one's robe and sprawl at ease before it. All the more when the owner is a worthy man with hills and valleys in his breast. This rock is Cold Mountain itself — say I so, and will you agree?

Leifeng Pagoda

Leifeng is a spur of Nanping Hill. Arching and turning back on itself, it was formerly called Middle Peak, and also Returning Peak. In the Song one Lei Jiu lived there, and so it was called Lei Peak. The King of Wuyue built a pagoda here, first designed at thirteen storeys and meant to be a thousand feet high; later, funds falling short, only seven storeys were built. It was anciently called the Royal Consort's Pagoda. At the end of the Yuan it caught fire, and only the pagoda's core remains. "Leifeng in the Evening Glow" thus became one of the Ten Views of West Lake. I once saw an inscription of Li Changheng's on a painting which said: "My friend Wen Zijiang once said, 'Of the two pagodas on the lake, Baochu is like a beautiful woman, Leifeng like an old monk.' I greatly admired it. In the xinhai year, at my little retreat, looking at the lotus by the pond with Shen Fanghui, I made a poem with the line, 'Leifeng leans on the sky like a drunken old man.' When Yan Yinchi saw it he jumped up and said, 'Zijiang's old monk is not the equal of your drunken old man — yours catches its feeling and bearing better.' For at my hill tower on the lake I faced Leifeng morning and evening, and in the purple air of the evening hills this old man sits collapsed among them, which is especially intoxicating. Yet the closing line of my poem says, 'This old man's feeling is bland as mist and water' — so I have never failed to take Zijiang's old monk as my model. Inscribed after drinking in the tenth month of guichou."

Lin Bu, "Leifeng":

At Middle Peak a single path divides, winding and turning up into the secluded clouds. The evening glow is seen through the wood in front; the autumn breakers are heard from the far bank. Tall pines set up their ancient green; sparse bamboo stirs a faint warm scent. I love the whistling at Sumen, and in cherishing the worthy find my affairs not of the common sort.

Zhang Dai, "Leifeng Pagoda":

Zijiang described Leifeng as an old monk with his robe hanging askew. Day after day he looks at West Lake, and in a whole lifetime cannot look enough. At times a warm breeze comes, and West Lake is his wine-couch. The drunken old man stands there dishevelled and swallows the whole western river at a gulp. A bleak and faded Leifeng — how does it monopolise the evening glow? Its whole body is mist and rosy cloud; it strokes its beard and gives a long whistle. Strange rocks gather at Nanping, and Yulin is their den. Surely this is not Mi of Xiangyang, upright and formal in robe and tablet.

The Bao Estate

That the boats of West Lake have upper decks was in fact the invention of Vice Commissioner Bao Hansuo. There were three sizes: the first held the singing feast and carried the boy singers; the next carried books and paintings; the next held the beautiful women. The old gentleman's singers and players were not like ordinary concubines: following the family customs of Shi Jilun and Song Zijing, he had them all appear before guests. They would often ride out in full make-up, swaying and mincing along, passing through the willows, and he took it for a joke and a pleasure. At the bright railings and patterned windows they sang below, playing pipes and plucking zithers, with voices like orioles trying their notes. When guests came the boy singers put on plays, with troupe dances, drums and pipes, all beyond compare. Once he set out on a whim, he would stay a good ten days, and onlookers followed after, asking where he had put up.

The South Garden is below Leifeng Pagoda and the North Garden below Feilai Peak. Both places are thickets of rock, piled and heaped, all of them strange and sheer. But he used them too for streams, gullies and bridges, and did not pile hills on top of hills, which shows much good sense. The great hall carries its beams on bracket-sets, stealing away the four middle columns, so that the lion troupe dances there most freely.

In the North Garden he made an Eight Trigrams chamber: the garden pavilion is round as if drawn with compasses and divided into eight sections shaped like fan faces. At the narrow end of each a bed is set crosswise, with curtains opening front and back: let down the inner curtain and the bed faces outward; let down the outer curtain and it faces inward. The old gentleman took his place in the middle, and when the bolt above was drawn and the bright windows opened, he burned incense and lay against his pillow, and all eight beds came out to face him. In extravagance and indulgence to the utmost, he grew old at West Lake for twenty years. In a Golden Valley or a Meiwu one cannot allow a hair's breadth of meanness and stint; better to be splendid to the very end — what the people of Hangzhou call "left or right, it is left or right."

The great households of West Lake have everything; even Xi Shi is sometimes kept in a golden house. To write "alas, alas" in the air is only for a poor pedant.

Chen Hanhui, "The Bao Estate at Nanping":

Alone he devised storied barges to move upon the water; a whole night's air knows gold and silver. Singing throats split the rocks and startle fish and birds; lamps and fires divide their light and enter the water-plants. Unconstrained, the Western Garden brings out its singers; in the splendour of the Golden Valley, men of letters gather. From of old, loneliness is always an offence; even the immortal Bu resented his poverty.

The South Peak

The South Peak lies at the boundary of the northern and southern hills, its path winding like a sheep's gut, with pines and bamboo lush and green; without straw sandals and cloth stockings, pressing on with a staff, one cannot climb it. The pagoda stands on the summit, built in the Tianfu years of the Jin and twice restored, in Chongning and in Qiandao. It was destroyed at the end of the Yuan. It had seven storeys of old, and three remain. Looking out on four sides from the pagoda: eastward one looks down on the level plain, where the mist clears and the sun comes out over the whole prospect of the lake. Southward one overlooks the great river, its waves swirling back, with boats appearing and vanishing in the far haze. Westward it joins the crags and caverns, with strange rocks soaring and dancing and deep, secret grottoes; at its side is a Ruiying image, skilful as the work of spirits. Northward it gazes on the hills and mounds, sloping and stretching away, with arrow-oaks growing in clumps and wheat running to the clouds. On the mountain's shoulder a great rock stands upright like a man in a tall cap, called the Altar of First Light, said to be where a Daoist subdued demons. On the summit are the Almsbowl Pool and the Yingchuan Spring, which do not dry up in great drought nor overflow in great rain. Beside the pool is the White Dragon Cave.

Daoyin, "The South Peak":

South Peak and North Peak, both dense and green, morning after morning steaming with mist sealed in from the sea. At the very top the snail-coil, a plank road flying through cloud; halfway up the ridge, a tall cap of strange rock offered up. A three-storey pagoda where old falcons nest; one pool of clear water that keeps a foolish dragon. If you think of enjoying the climb, take the trouble to bring your gear: cloth stockings, straw sandals and a short staff.

Misty Rosy Cloud Stone House

Turning south and up from Prince's Bay one comes to Stone House Ridge. Over the ridge is the Daren Chan Monastery, and to the left of the monastery is the Misty Rosy Cloud Stone House. The house is high, open and airy, twenty-six chi from end to end, shaped like a lodge or belvedere, and one can set out tables and mats in it. Around the upper part of the cave are carved five hundred and sixteen arhats. Its inner part is deep and narrow, leading into shadow, dark and hazy. At the side is a Bat Cave, where the larger bats are as big as crows, hanging in linked strings, each holding the tail of the next. Their droppings make a strange stench, and old temples with high beams suffer much from them; the Yu Temple at Kuaiji is the same. Turning right from the mountain's shoulder is the New Hermitage, where Wang Zi'an, Wei, and Chen Zhanghou, Hongshou, once studied. Going to visit them I saw stone like Feilai Peak just washed clean: clean without losing its skin, fine without hurting its bone, washing away entirely the cruelty of Yang the Shaveling's carved Buddhas. Sheer walls and strange peaks suddenly showed a fresh face, at which I was greatly delighted. In the Jianyan years the local people took refuge from soldiers inside it, and several thousand were all spared. Below the ridge is the Water Music Cave, which in the Jiatai years was a separate garden of Prince Yang of the prefecture. Stones were piled and a pavilion built, of refined and elegant construction. With the years it grew waste and untended, and the water music fell silent. Jia Qiuhe got it at a high price and ordered the monks of the monastery to look into the cause of the water music's rise and cessation, but they could not explain it. One day Qiuhe went there, looked down and listened attentively, and suddenly understood: "A valley must be empty before it can respond, and water must be dashed before it can sound. Now the water is dammed within and earth is choked without — how should one expect it to give voice?" He at once ordered the blockage cleared and the dammed water led off, and a sound came out from the cave stream, with a natural rhythm. A fine sight of two hundred years was restored in a single day. So he built a pavilion and had an authentic piece of Dongpo's calligraphy that he had obtained carved and set up on it.

Su Shi, "A Short Record of Water Music Cave":

Southeast of Qiantang is the Water Music Cave, where the spring flows within the rock, all in natural notes of the scale. Again, going up from Lingyin and Lower Tianzhu to Upper Tianzhu, where the stream runs between two hills, great rocks lie heaped like oxen and sheep, and their sound is hollow and resonant, truly like bells and drums. So one knows that what Master Zhuang called the piping of heaven is indeed everywhere.

Yuan Hongdao, "A Short Record of Misty Rosy Cloud Cave":

Misty Rosy Cloud Cave is both ancient and secluded; its coolness soaks into the bone, and its stone milk drips and drips. The Stone House is empty, bright and open, like a piece of cloud standing aslant, and again like a lodge or belvedere in which tables and mats may be set out. Twice altogether I passed the Stone House, and it was taken over by hired servants, as noisy as a market; both times I came away disappointed.

Zhang Jingyuan, "A Short Record of the Stone House":

Stone House Monastery is low and has nothing to see. Under the crag is a stone niche about ten tablets square, and so it is called a house. Inside, some enthusiast has set a stone couch that one can sit on. On the four sides are carved stone images like puppets, not at all refined. I suppose it got its name by being secluded. Going west out of the Stone House, the slopes up and down are lined on both sides with clumps of cassia; when they flower in autumn the fragrance carries tens of li, and it may well be called a world of golden grains.

Again, "A Short Record of Misty Rosy Cloud Monastery":

Misty Rosy Cloud Monastery is on the hill and is likewise run down; it was rebuilt by the palace eunuch Sun Long and is fairly new and trim. Behind the hall the ground was opened to take earth, and the stone bones came right out, jagged and worth seeing. Going up two or three turns to the right of the hall and past Elephant Trunk Peak, turning east a few dozen paces, is the Misty Rosy Cloud Cave. A small pavilion outside the cave commands it, and one looks at the Qiantang like a girdle.

Li Liufang, "Inscription on the Painting of the Spring Cave at Misty Rosy Cloud":

Looking down from the mountain gate of Misty Rosy Cloud Monastery, the woods and ravines are deep and lovely, no longer a human realm. In plum-blossom season it is especially wonderful, truly a jasper grove and an isle of jade. I still remember going with Xianmeng and Wuji from Faxiang Monastery to Misty Rosy Cloud Cave and resting in a little pavilion; we were very thirsty and could get no wine. Then we saw two boors come along with a wine tub, and Xianmeng's mouth watered; he begged a drink of them at once, and the boors paid no attention. We were much indignant. Happening to see a bad poem written on a board between the beams, we prised it off and threw it down, and the boors stumbled away. Thinking of it I still spit out my rice with laughter.

Gaoli Monastery

Gaoli Monastery is properly called Huiyin Monastery, built by King Wusu of Qian of Wuyue in the second year of Tiancheng of the Later Tang. In the eighth year of Yuanfeng of the Song, the monk Yitian, son of the king of Gaoli and head of the clergy, came with tribute, and asked to study the Xianshou teaching under Dharma Master Jingyuan. In the second year of Yuanyou he brought three hundred copies of the Huayan Sutra in gold script and Chinese translation into the monastery, and gave gold to build the Great Huayan Pavilion and a scripture pagoda to honour them. In the fourth year of Yuanyou Yitian, on the pretext of making offerings to Jingyuan, presented besides two golden pagodas. Su Shi, prefect of Hangzhou, submitted a memorial saying, "Foreigners should not be allowed to enter China repeatedly, for it loosens the frontier defences; the golden pagodas should be declined and not accepted." Shenzong followed him. In the fourth year of Yanyou of the Yuan, King Shen of Gaoli by imperial order presented incense, banners and scriptures here. It was destroyed at the end of Zhizheng and repaired at the beginning of Hongwu. It is commonly called the Gaoli Monastery. Its plinth stones are finely worked and its revolving repository grand and beautiful, beyond anything on the two hills. In the Wanli years the monk Rutong restored it. When I was young I went with my late mother to the monastery to burn incense; we gave three hundred cash and had the bearers push the revolving repository round. The wheel turned creaking, like pipes and drums beginning; afterwards it spun smooth and slippery, and the repository wheel went as if flying, faster than those who pushed it.

Faxiang Monastery

Faxiang Monastery is commonly called Long Ears. In the Later Tang there was a monk Fazhen of extraordinary appearance, whose ears were nine cun long, passing above the top of his head and long enough below to knot under his chin; he was called the Long-Eared Monk. In the second year of Tiancheng he came on his travels from the Cold Cliff at Guoqing on Mount Tiantai, and King Wusu of Qian received him with the courtesy due a guest and settled him at the Faxiang Cloister. On the sixth day of the first month of the fourth year of Qianyou of the Song, without illness, he sat in the abbot's room, gathered his disciples, bathed, and passed away in the cross-legged posture. His disciples lacquered his true body and set it in a Buddha niche, saying he was Dipankara Buddha come again. Women praying for sons hung banners and made offerings there without a day's pause, and by this Faxiang became famous in its time. Behind the monastery are the Tin Staff Spring and the water-basin living stone. The monks' kitchen is fragrant and clean and their vegetarian offerings excellent. The wild rice shoots in front of the monastery are as tender as jade and as fragrant as orchid, sweet in the mouth beyond anything in the world; but they must be had in the new autumn of the eighth month, and at other times one cannot.

Yuan Hongdao, "Written in Jest on Worshipping the Long-Eared Monk's Body at Faxiang Monastery":

The marks of a wheel are indeed on his feet; the lacquer's sheen is new as a mirror. Do his spirit and soul know or not? Are nails and teeth illusion or truth? Do not suspect the guest of antiquarianism; his solemnity does not wait upon men. Let there be gold and let there be stone: coming to this, they too turn to dust.

Xu Wei, "Looking at the Living Stone at Faxiang Monastery":

The lotus is not in the water; its parted leaves cluster on the green hill. The path bends, yet one can get in; the peaks confuse one, yet one need not turn back. I take a rush to measure the stone's length and ask the bamboo the way to the stream's bend. Do not wonder that I shut out the slanting sun; tomorrow I fear I shall not be free.

Zhang Jingyuan, "A Short Record of Faxiang Monastery":

Faxiang Monastery is not very fine, yet incense and worshippers gather thick. Chan Master Dipankara's long-eared remains are visited by women who hold that it makes for sons, and they vie in stroking its head and belly, so that the lacquer shines like a mirror. Several dozen paces to the right of the monastery, over a small bridge and turning up, is the Tin Staff Spring, a trickling thread that does not dry up even in great drought. Where it runs, the monks have set a sand crock to draw from for cooking. In time the water and earth have rusted and set, and rushes grow on it several cun thick, so that the crock's own substance cannot be seen; hence it is called the Rush Crock. Could one but pare it off and set it as an inkstone pool or a censer's foot, the antiquarians would not deign to speak of it unless it were Qin or Han.

Li Liufang, "Inscription on the Painting of the Hill Pavilion at Faxiang":

Last year at Faxiang I had a poem seeing a friend off: "Ten years the monastery among the Faxiang pines; today I linger here together with you. Hurriedly seeing you off, I have nothing to give: half a bay of pavilion and a stream's worth of cloud." At that time I was escaping the heat at the Bamboo Pavilion with Fanghui and Mengyang; for nights on end there was wind and rain, and the sound of the spring roared without ceasing. I had another poem inscribing a small scene on a fan: "At midnight the stream pavilion resounds; I did not know the wind and rain had stopped. Rising to look into the far haze, at ease I see the faint moon." A moment's meeting of minds — I do not know what words to make of it. Unrolling this today, it too can be mused upon. Inscribed by lamplight at the Leaning-on-Drunkenness Tower of the Great Buddha Monastery, in the tenth month of renzi.

The Tomb of Yu

The Tomb of Yu: Junior Guardian Lord Yu, for the merit of a second founding, suffered wrong and died. On the day of his execution a dark haze covered the sky, and those on the road stamped and sighed. His wife was exiled to Shanhaiguan, and dreamed that the lord said: "My form is severed but my soul is not disordered; only my eyes have no light. Let me borrow the light of yours to show my form to the emperor." The next day his wife lost her sight. It happened that the Fengtian Gate caught fire, and when Emperor Yingzong came to view it, the lord's form appeared in the flames. The emperor pitied him and thought of his loyalty, and by decree pardoned his wife and let her return. She dreamed again that the lord gave back the light of her eyes, and her sight was restored. His remains were secretly buried at the instruction of the Commander-in-Chief Chen Kui. His adopted son Mian asked to bury him in the ancestral graveyard at Qiantang, and by imperial order he was buried here. In the second year of Chenghua the court debate at last cleared him. The emperor sent the messenger Ma Xuan to proclaim the sacrifice. Its words say in part: "When the state was in much trouble, he preserved the altars of soil and grain from harm; holding to the public way alone, he was destroyed by treacherous men in power. The late emperor already knew his wrong, and my own heart truly pities his loyalty." In the seventh year of Hongzhi he was granted the posthumous title Suqian, and a shrine was built called Jinggong. In the eighteenth year of Wanli the title was changed to Zhongsu. In the forty-second year the censor Yang He enlarged the shrine buildings for him, and the temple stood lofty and bright; he asked Chen Jiru of Yunjian to write a stele record of it. The stele says: "In general a loyal minister, for the sake of the state, does not grudge his death, nor does he grudge his name. Not grudging death, he has the daring of a hero; not grudging name, he has the silent depth of a sage. The Yellow River pushing over mountains and overturning the sea — that is its daring; that it can also run hidden underground for thirteen thousand li, and turn once in a thousand li — that is its silence. Of old, at the disaster of Tumu, when Yuling was taken north, the lord wept bitterly and submitted a memorial against it, stopped the proposal of moving south, and summoned the armies to the king's aid. When the barbarians brought the emperor to Datong, to Xuanfu, and to the walls of the capital, each time he went up on the wall and declined, saying: 'Thanks to the spirits of heaven and earth and of the ancestral altars, the state has a ruler.' This is seen once in the Zuo Commentary: the men of Chu set an ambush of chariots and seized the Duke of Song to attack Song; the noble Muyi told the men of Song to answer, 'Thanks to the spirits of the altars, the state already has a ruler,' and the men of Chu knew that even holding the Duke of Song they could not get the state of Song, and so released him. It is seen again in the Biography of Lian Po: the king of Qin pressed the king of Zhao to meet at Mianchi, and Lian Po escorted him to the border and said, 'Your Majesty goes; reckoning the road and the ceremonies of the meeting, you will return in no more than thirty days; if you do not return, I beg leave to set up the crown prince as king, to cut off Qin's hopes.' And it is seen a third time in the Biography of Wang Dan: when the Khitan invaded the border and the emperor went to Chanzhou, Dan said, 'If within ten days there is no report of victory, what then?' The emperor was silent a long while, and then said, 'Set up the crown prince.' These three are where the lord's reading bore fruit. By the first, the lord was the Muyi of Song; by the latter, the lord did not act as Lian Po or Wang Dan — why? Alas! That Maoling was set up and then deposed, and after being deposed ought to have been set up — who does not know it? Was the lord's insight below that of Wang Zhi, Li Kan or Zhu Ying? Or below that of Zhong Tong or Zhang Lun? The truth is that the lord weighed the times and measured the circumstances: there were things he ought not to say, and things he need not say. While Yuling was among the barbarians and Maoling was heir apparent, to refuse the father was to be Zhe of Wei, to welcome the father was to be Gaozong; to fight was impossible and to treat was impossible — nothing whatever was possible. Since it was to control the barbarian lands, this he ought not to say. Once Yuling had returned, Jianji had died and the Prince of Cheng was ill, and heaven and men inclined one way: who but Yuling, and again who but Maoling? To lead the officials openly and petition at court for the restoration was merely to bide one's time in obscurity; this he need not say. As for the seizing of the gate by Xu Youzhen, Cao and Shi, that was an irregular move, not a proper one; a coup, not a slow course; the game of the diplomatists, not of a great minister of state. Someone may say, why did he not withdraw? Alas, how could the lord withdraw? While the lord remained, Yuling was safe and Maoling too was safe. Had the lord remonstrated and then withdrawn, would not the confinement in the Southern Palace have become a matter of candle shadows and axe sounds? And after the deposing of the Eastern Palace, would it not have become the Dezhao of the Song? Though the lord wished to reconcile the king's brothers, in truth he secretly guarded our sovereign's father and son. So one knows that the return of the imperial carriage was the lord's merit; that the restoration could later take place was the lord's merit; and the restoration of the heir apparent was the lord's merit too. Men can see what is seen, but cannot see what is not seen. What can be seen is a hero's daring; what cannot be seen is a sage's silence. Daring enough to accept death, and silent under a violent ruler — the lord truly had the heart of a great minister of antiquity." Once the lord's shrine flourished, those who came from all quarters to pray for dreams followed one another in crowds, and the answers came like echoes.

Wang Siren, "Mourning at the Shrine of Yu Zhongsu":

My tears cut through the water of West Lake; from Yu's tomb I gaze at Yue's tomb. A lonely mist buries the green blood; the Great White darkens the baleful vapours. The altars of soil and grain were kept and given back to us; the head was flung away and given to you. The bones that had their way at the Southern City — where in the evening willows are they heard? A place of pipes and songs everywhere; a thousand autumns of Cold Food mornings. The white clouds' heart is vast and wide; the yellow leaves' tears fall rustling. The pillar of heaven upheld the great altars; human life is given over to deer and plantain. Beimang is a taboo then and now — how many rise on the slope of Mount Li?

Zhang Pu, "Mourning Yu Zhongsu":

Junipers and cypresses, the wind stern, taking leave of the bright moon; to this day the two sleeves know the scholar. In the green hills his soul divides Chinese from barbarian; in broad day his brows and beard see the great peace. One death, and the Qiantang tide is angry still; the lonely grave, and the water at Yue's islet equally clear. Do not say that soft and pretty men are as earth; night after night from the River of Heaven he gazes at the imperial city.

Zhang Dai, "Shrine of Junior Guardian Yu":

All his life he had strength to save the imperilled stream; the mountains and rivers of the hundred-and-two passes went and came again. Zong Ze died with his heart still on the rescue of the northern captive; Li Gang wept bitterly and stopped the move to the south. At Mianchi he set up the son and there was no day of return; at the altars he hailed his lord, and there was another heaven. The restoration at the Southern Palace — was that a seizure? It was borrowing the lord's one death to win sable and cicada. The state's survival or ruin lay in the palm of his hand, yet by a trumped-up case his true loyalty was turned against him. Because of your reckless stake, Wang Dan was anxious; share out to me a cup of the broth and give it back to the Great Duke. So long as Luling remained in the outer residence, he knew of himself that crown and robe would come back to the Tong Palace. To send the sword and command his death was not the sovereign's wish; someone had said that Yu Qian did indeed have merit.

Yang He, "Inscription on the Pillars of the Ornamental Columns at Yu's Tomb":

With bare hands he drew back the Silver River: you yourself hand down a great name through the universe. The green hill buries white bones: where am I to come and weep for the hero?

Again, "Pillar Inscription in the Main Shrine":

A thousand ages of grief at Qiantang, together with the lonely minister of Chu: by the White Horse River, angrily rolling up a thousand heaps of night snow. Two reigns' wrong to the Junior Guardian, together with the father and son of the Yue family: in the Evening Sun Pavilion, heartbreak at the storms of two places.

Dong Qichang, "Pillar Inscription at the Shrine of Junior Guardian Yu":

Thanks to the spirits of the altars, the state already has a ruler; I count on flinging away this breast of hot blood. Exhausting the strength of his limbs and following it with death, he alone left blue and white behind in the world of men.

Zhang Dai, "Pillar Inscription for Junior Guardian Yu":

The Song house had no plan: year by year it sent the barbarians tens of thousands in tribute, and once the peace was made, how were the two palaces to come back from the northern desert? The Han house matched wits: "be so good as to share out to me a cup of the broth" — extortion was no strategy, and there was no need of three inches of tongue to bring him back to Xinfeng.

Zhang Dai, "A Short Record of Dingxiang Bridge":

In the tenth month of the jiaxu year I took Chusheng to stay on the Unmoored Garden boat to look at the red leaves. At Dingxiang Bridge eight guests arrived unexpectedly: Zeng Bochen of Nanjing, Zhao Chunqing of Dongyang, Peng Tianxi of Jintan, Chen Zhanghou of Zhuji, Yang Yumin, Lu Jiu and Luo San of Hangzhou, and the actress Chen Suzhi. I kept them to drink. Zhanghou brought out silk and painted an ancient Buddha for Chunqing; Bochen made a portrait of Chunqing; Yang Yumin played the three-stringed lute; Luo San sang; Lu Jiu played the flute. Yumin then produced a ruled stick about an inch long, propped himself on a small stool, and in the northern manner narrated an act of the Jin Ping Mei, which made everyone collapse with laughter. That night Peng Tianxi with Luo San and Yumin performed a play in the standard style, marvellously; and with Chusheng and Suzhi a play in the diaoqiang style, marvellous again. Zhanghou sang village songs, and I took the zither and accompanied him, babbling as if in speech. Chunqing laughed and said, "I regret that I have no single skill to help your wine along." I said: "When General Pei Min of the Tang was in mourning, he asked Wu Daozi to paint the wall of the Heavenly Palace to deliver his dead mother. Daozi said, 'Let the general dance a round of the sword for me, so that by its fierce vigour I may reach the dark world.' Min took off his mourning garments, bound himself up, mounted and galloped, and flung his sword into the clouds a dozen zhang high; it came down like a flash of lightning, and he caught it in the scabbard he held up, and the sword went through into the sheath — the onlookers shuddered. Daozi swept his sleeves like the wind, and the wall painting was finished at once. Zhanghou painting a Buddha for Chunqing, and Chunqing dancing with the sword, is exactly today's affair." Chunqing sprang up, took his bamboo-jointed whip weighing thirty catties, danced several turns of the Hu whirling dance, and ended with a great shout of laughter.

Fenghuang Ridge

Fenghuang Ridge has much dark young bamboo, and the tone of the wind in them is cold and clear. Here the woods and ravines are deep and still, far removed from the dust of the world. A gurgling stream runs down from Dragon Well and does not fail in any season. The ridge was formerly thick with scrub and waste. In the Yuanfeng years the monk Biancai cleansed and cleared it and named it Fenghuang Ridge. When Su Zizhan visited Biancai at Dragon Well, Biancai saw him off as far as the ridge, and those about him said in surprise, "The Venerable Yuan has crossed the Tiger Stream!" Biancai laughed and said, "Master Du has the line, 'Making two old men with you, our comings and goings are gallantry too.'" So he built a pavilion on the ridge and named it Crossing the Stream, and also the Two Old Men. Zizhan recorded it, with the poem: "Sun and moon turn like a pair of wheels; past and present are one and the same mound. Only this crane-boned old man stands stern and knows no autumn. Going or staying, neither hinders him, though men and the land contend to hold him back. He goes like a dragon leaving the water, thunder and rain rolling up the autumn pool; he comes like a pearl returning to the shore, fish and turtles vying head to head. This life is a brief lodging; I always fear that name outruns substance. Beside Magistrate Tao I am ashamed; as a master he is finer than the Venerable Yuan. He sees me across the Tiger Stream, and the stream water ought to flow backward. Let the people of this hill for ever remember the two old men's outing."

Li Liufang, "Fenghuang Ridge":

Where the woods and ravines are deep and still, all is lost in the young bamboo. A shred of cloud is hidden in the house; the two old men reach Yunqi. The Academician stays at Dragon Well; the Venerable Yuan crosses the Tiger Stream. Brewed from the white of the rock crag, its kingfisher colour shines in the glass.

Dragon Well

On the southern hills, above and below, are two Dragon Wells. The upper is the Old Dragon Well, a pool of cold green, extraordinarily clear and cold, abandoned among the scrub with none to pass and ask after it. The ground there produces tea, which is thus the finest of the two hills. Higher still is Tianmen, from which one may go through to the Three Tianzhu. To the south are the Nine Streams, the road leading to Xu village and the water issuing at the river bank. To its west are the Eighteen Gullies, the road leading to Moon Wheel Hill and the water issuing at the Six Harmonies Pagoda. The Lower Dragon Well was properly called Yan'en Yanqing Monastery. In the second year of Qianyou of the Tang the residents raised subscriptions and rebuilt it as the Baoguo Sutra-Reading Cloister. In the Xining years of the Song it was changed to Shousheng Cloister, and Dongpo wrote its tablet. In the thirty-first year of Shaoxing it was changed to Guangfu Cloister, and in the sixth year of Chunyou to Longjing Monastery. In the second year of Yuanfeng Master Biancai came back from Tianzhu to grow old here and did not go out again; he was on good terms with Su Zizhan and Zhao Yuedao. Later men built the Three Worthies Pavilion to sacrifice to them. With the years the monastery fell in. In the twenty-third year of Wanli Master Sun of the Directorate of Ceremonial restored it, putting up pavilions and lodges, building a bridge, dredging the Dragon-Bathing Pool and raising the Timely Rain Pavilion, all made new, and sightseers gathered in crowds.

A Piece of Cloud

The Divinely Moved Stone is in the Dragon Well Monastery, some six chi high, strange and abrupt, standing alone under the eaves. A frame of banksia rose threads through its holes and hollows, coiling like a dragon or snake. In the thirteenth year of Zhengtong the palace eunuch Li De stayed at Dragon Well. There was a drought, and he ordered strong men to dredge the well. At first they found twenty-four iron tablets, one jade Buddha and one ingot of gold and silver, carved with the Yuanfeng era name of the Great Song. Afterwards they found this stone, and eighty men lifted it up. On it are the two characters "Divinely Moved," and at the side many inscriptions, blurred and unreadable; no one knows in what age they were carved, but they were probably all from casting dragons to pray for rain. On Fenghuang Ridge is the Piece of Cloud Stone, about a zhang high, blue and glossy and delicate, as skilful as if carved. The pine-shaded steps wind about, and among the undergrowth is a stone cave, piled up with fine craft and jagged. Behind the stone is the Piece of Cloud Pavilion, built by Master Sun of the Directorate of Ceremonial, with a stone chessboard set before it, carved above with the lines: "When the mood comes I face the water and tap at the waning moon; when talk is done I chant to the wind and lean on a piece of cloud." Sightseers linger there and cannot bear to leave at once.

Qin Guan, "A Record of Inscribing Names at Dragon Well":

In the second year of Yuanfeng, the day after the Mid-Autumn festival, I came from Wuxing to Hangzhou on my way back east to Kuaiji. At Dragon Well was the Great Master Biancai, who sent a letter inviting me into the hills. By the time I left the city wall the day was already late; I went by water across the lake to Puning and met the Daoist Canliao, and asked about the bamboo sedan sent from Dragon Well, and was told, "Because you did not come at the time, it has gone." That evening the sky cleared and the moon was bright among the woods, so that one could have counted a hair. So I left the boat and set off with Canliao, staff in hand, along the lake. We went out past Leifeng, crossed Nanping, washed our feet in the Huiyin gully, entered Lingshi Wu, found a side path up Fenghuang Ridge, and rested at the Dragon Well Pavilion, where we dipped the spring and sat on a rock to drink it. From Puning we passed fifteen Buddhist temples in all, and in all of them it was silent and no human voice was heard. In the huts along the road lamps showed and hid; the grass and trees were deep and dense, and the running water rushed and sounded mournfully — hardly a place of the human world. We travelled to the second watch before reaching the Shousheng Cloister, where I called on Biancai at the Chaoyin Hall, and went back the next day.

Zhang Jingyuan, "A Short Record of Dragon Well":

Past Fenghuang Ridge one comes to Dragon Well, where Su Duanming and Mi Haiyue used to come and go with Biancai. The monastery faces north, and inside and outside its gate the tall bamboo rings clear. Beside it, to the left of the hall, a spring comes out of a crack in the rock into a small walled garden pool, and below it a square pool receives it again. In each pool are big fish, yet the water has no fishy smell. The pool pours gurgling down and runs out round the monastery gate. Sitting a while, I enjoyed the Piece of Cloud Stone with the pavilion. A hill monk drew water and served tea; the taste of the spring and the wrapping were both pure. The monk's face too was gaunt and still, quite unlike those of the other hills.

Wang Zhideng, "Dragon Well":

Into the deep valley, winding and turning; the magic spring gushes and flows. Across the wood it makes rain before the rain; reaching the monastery, autumn is more than one can bear. In the ancient hall the Dragon King is there; in the empty wood the deer-women roam. One cup under the slanting sun, kept solely for the men of old.

Yuan Hongdao, "Dragon Well":

They all say the Dragon Well of today is more secluded and strange than in former times. The road turns and I lose the old place; the trees are ancient and have lost their names. Thirstily I look up to the Jisu Buddha; in confusion I call on the Master of the Jade Tablet. Splitting a tube, I share the valley water; mowing the grass, I bring out the Qin stele. Several turns of walking above the well; a hundred devices to lead the spring in flight. Painted walls where cloud-flocks gather; red railings eaten by the water's coat. The path is fragrant, the tea leaves long; the plots are small, the herb shoots fat. I too am learning from Master Su, and you, Biancai, are the judge of right and wrong.

Zhang Dai, "Pillar Inscription at Dragon Well":

In the night gully the spring returns: Wowa can bring the rain of a thousand crags. In the dawn hall the dragon comes out: the cliff rocks all become a single piece of cloud.

The Nine Streams and Eighteen Gullies

The Nine Streams are west of Misty Rosy Cloud Ridge and south of Dragon Well Hill. Their water twists and winds about and comes out after nine turns, and so they are called the Nine Streams. The paths of that place are rugged, the grass and trees lush and fine, human habitation utterly absent, secluded, still and quiet — another world altogether, and no part of the human one. Below the streams are the Eighteen Gullies, where the ground is deep and remote; even among the black-robed, none but one who has left the world and cut himself off from the common can live there long. According to the gazetteer, within the gullies are traces of the Li Yan Monastery, the plum garden of Prince Yanghe of the Song, the Plum Blossom Path and the like, but all are now buried and gone. The place is remote besides, off in a corner by the river, and men who have grown old at West Lake, though they have searched out every famous spot without omission, are all at a loss and can give no answer when asked about the Nine Streams and Eighteen Gullies.

Li Liufang, "The Eighteen Gullies":

In the jiyou year I first came to the Eighteen Gullies, and with Mengyang and Wuji reached the First Bridge at Xu village, where we ate on the bridge. The stream ran gurgling and the hills closed round; we sat long and could not leave. I had a poem: "Nine streams and eighteen gullies, everywhere running alive. I came in the third month, when the rain on the spring hills had just stopped. Rushing thunder and flying hail — ear and eye both at their marvellous height. At ease I sit facing the stream, and all the more with the hills towering before me. I would take counsel with Yunqi on the method of deliverance in all this. Well said, the words of Master Wang: an idle heart dies away with the water." Wuji also had a poem answering mine, but I have forgotten it.