《赞灵集》

The first volume of the Collected Eulogies to the Numinous includes two stele inscriptions related to the Lingji Palace. The contents list for the complete work also includes memorials, prefaces, petitions, postscripts, and poems.

Min County is a well-known county seat in the Fuzhou region, and Jishan Ward is a well-known community within Min County. The Shrine of the Spiritually Responsive King is a place revered by local people, where they pray for protection and blessings.

In earlier times, people went to the shrine to pray for blessings and seek divine responses. They used a luan sieve for spirit writing—a ritual implement through which they invited the gods to reveal their messages—and received verses and prophecies. People still remember and recount how these predictions came true, yet no one had heard of the god descending to dictate written texts. Later, villagers gathered at the shrine to pray. Seeing that its roof tiles had decayed, its buildings were falling into disrepair, and the images of the god had grown dim and indistinct, they agreed to renovate the shrine and used spirit writing to ask the god’s will. The deity manifested and sent down a written message, urging them to begin the work. When the renovations were complete, the deity again delivered revelations, every word of which formed a text. Thereafter, long and short compositions appeared one after another. The spirit writer’s arm grew weary, the recorder nearly wrote his wrist to the point of breaking, and onlookers were dazzled by what they saw. The deity’s writings were vast and abundant, like a great river rushing into the sea. Nearby villages and districts competed to copy and pass them around. People were awestruck and amazed, while some wondered: how could ordinary people possibly have spoken such words?

I have heard that when people first petitioned the court to grant a plaque, no one knew the god’s surname. The elders guessed at what it might be; later they learned that it was Xu, but still knew nothing of the god’s precise origins. Now the god’s illustrious lineage and the course of the deity’s miraculous deeds have been recorded in considerable detail. This has always been the same god, who did not deliberately keep the truth from the elders of earlier times. People prayed and made petitions year after year, and only now has this manifestation appeared. Could it be that the literary fortunes of this place are about to flourish, and the god has revealed auspicious signs and made the deity’s spiritual power known in advance? Or does the god have some purpose in sending down these messages?

Ah, we ought to understand the god’s intention. A river flowing backward may roar and surge with overwhelming force, yet it cannot compare with the deep, broad, silent current at the river’s heart. The god has used writing to convey a message to the world, perhaps because there was no other choice. In the Three Ancient Dynasties, no one made a name for himself solely through writing, and the Six Classics did not deliberately pursue literary technique. The sages wrote books for posterity not to show off their literary gifts. When the distinction between ruler and minister grew obscure, Confucius wrote the Spring and Autumn Annals; when examples of benevolence and righteousness declined, Mencius wrote his seven books. If the Way of the Kings could truly be put into practice, the writings of Xun Kuang, magistrate of Lanling, would never have needed to be written. If ritual and music could be restored to proper order, and the Book of Odes had not been lost, Wang Tong, the Master of Wen Zhong, could have played his qin beside the Fen River instead of writing books. Now, if principles are to be passed down to later generations, where else can they be entrusted but to writing?

The god’s intentions accord with those of the sages. The god sends down writings and has them engraved on steles so that people may learn of the god’s own history; the god sends down divination verses so that people may know good fortune and misfortune. As the ancient traces of mountains and rivers gradually fade from view, the god writes to examine and clarify them. As customs grow shallow and corrupt, the god composes “Song of Liangfu” to offer admonition. When reverence disappears and the character of scholars declines, the god writes “Song of the Final Brushstroke” and “Rhapsody on Being No God” to warn the world. There are also the “Song of Capturing the Qilin,” writings defending the god, and all manner of poems. Their style is at once elegant and upright, strange and striking, and varied in form, like different kinds of music performed in succession, or like grain and cloth, each serving its own practical purpose. Are the god’s writings merely a matter of chapters and sentences?

If the people who live here read the god’s writings and use them to discern the god’s intentions, then a whole community can be shaped by moral principles. Even a small village of ten households can nurture people of loyalty and trustworthiness. Scholars can study diligently; farmers can till the fields; those in industry and commerce can work and conduct their trade. When people disagree, they can understand the value of yielding; when disputes arise, they can be willing to settle them amicably. In their daily lives, they can care for and support one another, and everyone can strive to fulfill their own vocation. If this can be achieved, then in this age the god may be said to have drawn near to the realm sought by the sages.

On the back of the stele, the god says: “Though I have made some attempt to follow Liu Zongyuan, I have no man of letters like Han Yu to write a record for me. How, then, can I make myself known to posterity?” Han Yu’s account speaks chiefly of children being filial to their parents, wives being obedient to their husbands, kindness and filial devotion within the home, and affection among brothers outside it. It contains no unnecessary words. In entrusting a record to a writer of later generations, the god is concerned with nothing more than supporting the moral order and the hearts of the people.

My talents and learning are shallow. How would I dare hope to equal Han Yu? I am no more than a small creature like a softshell turtle, frog, cicada, or katydid. How could I dare make my voice heard beneath the thunder? Yet I recall that the god came to Fujian during the Kaiyun era of the Later Jin, and that my ancestor, too, migrated from Gushi to Fujian during the Five Dynasties. Since generations past, some of my forebears have worked to establish themselves here and built a shrine for the god; others petitioned the court to grant the god an honorific title. Our family has worshipped the deity for many years. Now the villagers have once again joined together to arrange the repairs, and our descendants hope to continue receiving the god’s protection. This devotion has no end. How can I remain silent when I have wanted to speak?

As for the god’s surname, title, lineage, miraculous deeds, and the dates when the temple was founded and repaired, all are described in detail in the stele inscription written by the god personally. Someone like me has no place to add to it. My own writing merely explains why the god sent down these texts. The god hopes that the people of this region will cherish their homeland and remember the teachings. If everyone can return to the arts of the Way and to loyalty and trustworthiness, then even without setting out fine wine and meat, or offering pork and chicken, they can express their reverence with plants gathered by the stream and clear water, and still answer the god’s intentions.

If people do not receive moral instruction, the god’s grace cannot truly benefit the people. Human blessings and fortunes rise and fall in cycles; they cannot advance forever without decline. In earlier generations, the god’s writings revealed auspicious signs and made the deity’s spiritual power known. In generations to come, those writings will also make the god’s fame travel far and establish the deity’s name and reputation. One day, the court will surely bestow praise and confer a title, making the god’s glory shine still more brightly. Then someone will wield a great writing brush and set down this story. I shall wait and see, so that Han Yu will not remain the only one famed for writing a record of Liu Zongyuan.

South of Min, beyond the gorge, stands a lofty, towering mountain called Aofeng. On its southern slope is the Lingji Immortal Palace. Long ago, the deity enshrined in this temple manifested miraculous powers. The state benefited from its achievements, and the people received its protection. The imperial court repeatedly bestowed honorific titles, and the rites of sacrifice were conducted with great solemnity. To this day, the temple remains prosperous.

After many years, the temple’s beams, pillars, and rafters fell into disrepair, and the paintings on its walls gradually faded. Some villagers came to the shrine to seek an oracle and discuss repairing the temple. Seeing its condition, they said, “This is hardly enough to show our reverence and provide the deity with a proper dwelling. We should restore it completely and all contribute together.” The deity was pleased by their frank sincerity, and sent down a written message to encourage them.

The villagers joined in good faith, raised funds, arranged for artisans, and estimated the amount of timber needed. Each took responsibility for a task, and none neglected it. The narrow temple gate was widened, the dried-up pond was filled again, and damaged timbers and roof tiles were replaced one by one. The deity’s image was repainted and adorned with fine robes; the statues of civil officials and military officers were likewise renewed. The images in the temple now inspired awe, and the deity’s virtue shone more brightly. All who came to see the temple were filled with reverence, and many gladly contributed. The work was finally completed in the eighth month of autumn.

The villagers did not claim the merit for themselves, but attributed it to the deity. They therefore held a sacrifice, presented offerings, reported the temple’s restoration to the deity, and prayed for continued protection. They then spread word of the deity’s miraculous manifestations and recounted its origins: the deity’s deeds could be traced back to the Three Dynasties; since the Five Dynasties, it had established great achievements and protected later generations. The history of its worship here, too, followed a general course and was recorded in detail. For these reasons, this account was written.

Those involved were astonished and awed when they heard it, and read it aloud again and again. Someone said, “When we previously asked the court to grant a plaque, the oracle gave the deity’s surname as Xu. Only now do we know that the deity descends from the line of King Yan. Surely this is proof of its miraculous power.” They asked someone to compose an inscription and carve it in stone, so that the deity’s hidden deeds might be made known to the world and passed down through the ages.

From then on, the deity’s revealed writings appeared one after another: postfaces, rhapsodies, discussions, petitions, songs, and verses, each in a different form and ever more wondrous. Some were like crags rising sheer into the sky, steep and lofty; others were like waves whipped up by a raging wind, surging and tumultuous. How could writing be so extraordinary?

In heaven, writing is the essence of the Kui and Bi stars; on earth, it is a treasure like the River Chart and the Luo Writing; among humankind, it is an auspicious sign of the imperial court. The deity dwells in a realm of obscurity and mystery, its form unseen and its voice unheard, yet it can manifest through writing. Why is this? The deity is wise and upright, majestic and pure; its power and numinous force are exalted and radiant. Though unseen, it observes everywhere; though unheard, it hears all. It moves between heaven and earth, connecting past and present. It knows what is to come and reveals what has gone before, making subtle things clear and bringing hidden principles to light. Thus the deity can release heaven’s essence, disclose earth’s treasures, and proclaim the auspicious signs of the human world. Its writings and virtue will endure as heaven and earth do.

Heaven and earth do not begrudge writing; they allow people to display their talents. The deity could have roamed the Dao, beyond sound and smell, yet entrusted its writings to the human world. This is cause for wonder. The spiritual beauty of Aofeng and the heroic spirit of Longshou Mountain must surely give rise to extraordinary talent. Perhaps the deity, too, will lend its aid to these writings. Otherwise, why would it reveal such an auspicious sign?

The deity’s writing says, “What I have written will surely become proof of what is to be fulfilled in the future, and a ladder by which one may advance.” The deity’s poem says, “Are writings not precious? In time, the gentleman’s literary brilliance will gradually emerge, like the markings on a leopard.” Could this really be my own intention? The transformations of creation move in cycles; nothing once departed fails to return. How to understand and convey the deity’s meaning ultimately depends on people themselves. Its words are as follows:

Mount Aofeng’s ridges wind and stretch into the distance. The Palace of Lingji, a shrine dedicated to the Lingji deity, was built here. The achievements of the ancestors shine brightly and command respect; Yanwang, renowned for his filial conduct, is held in reverence.

People built many shrines and temples and worshipped him from generation to generation, offering him the devotion of the local community. Scholars, farmers, artisans, and merchants all benefited from the region’s produce and natural advantages, sharing in his blessings.

He brought peace to the people around the temple, and his divine power was renowned, his radiance manifest. Daye, a place name or the name of a shrine, promoted education and culture, thereby ushering in good fortune. The deity appeared with solemn dignity. People remembered their origins and repaid his kindness with heartfelt sincerity. So they composed a song praising his virtue, so that their reverence would endure through the generations.

“Inscription on the Record of the Restoration of Lingqi Palace” (an inscription recounting the construction of Lingqi Palace)

People serve the gods, and the gods rely upon people. On an auspicious day and at a favorable hour, the deities manifested their numinous power, sent down written instructions, and entrusted them to those who had joined in this undertaking. All observed the commandments and pledges with reverence and care, never daring to slacken their efforts, morning or evening. The people therefore adorned the sacred images and appointed those in charge of vestments to put the clothing in order. Once the work was completed, the deities themselves left a record of their deeds and had the inscription carved on a stele. Its words were vast and solemn, as though beyond the reach of worldly speech; its force was so stirring that who could fail to give all they had in response?

Those who had joined in the work conferred together and said, “The ponds to the east and west have dried up, and can no longer add to the beauty of the shrine. The outer wall has also fallen into disrepair, and can no longer inspire reverence. The Dragon-Head Well, named for its dragon-shaped head, is harmful to the local environment and has now been abandoned. We should fill in the well, dig ponds, and paint the walls, both to please the deities and to benefit the people. This would be fitting.” All those involved agreed: “So be it.”

To the east, two deities in the ordered ranks are worshipped together, but their associated decorations have long been obscured by dust. People today esteem military affairs, and some wished to remove these decorations and devote the arrangements solely to martial display. Those involved had once heard Confucius say, “Cultural affairs must be supported by military preparedness, and military affairs must be supported by cultural preparedness.” The civil and martial complement one another, each serving its purpose; this is an enduring principle. How could either be left out? Accordingly, a shrine to the Three Stars of Fortune, Emolument, and Longevity was established in the upper position, and images of those who assist the state and protect the people were sculpted and painted in the lower position. The civil came first, followed by the martial, each arranged according to proper convention. Those involved said again: “So be it.”

Outside the shrine stood a gate tower; within it was a sturdy enclosure. The red paint on the eaves and boards shone brightly, and the side halls were especially splendid with color. Everyone did their utmost to repair the damaged and leaking sections. Only the two storehouses remained low, filthy, and long neglected. The villagers were deeply worried and felt the matter could not be put off for another day. They therefore conferred again with those involved and reported to the deities: “We have labored over this for a long time and wish to stop, yet cannot. Our intentions are plain, and surely the deities know them. We ask you to instruct us in writing.” The deities sent down this message: “Repairing a temple is no easy matter; you should proceed according to what is right. How dare you fail to understand my intent?” The people then understood the deities’ meaning.

Afterward, the rotten, blackened rafters and beams, the broken roof tiles, and the uneven walls were all repaired and renewed. At this time the deities again sent down a written message, naming the storehouses: the one east of the hall was called “Kinship and Harmony,” and the one west of it “Joyful Gathering,” both names conveying closeness and joy. The storehouses now had real structures to bear their names; all the features were beautiful and complete, and everything was properly arranged. Although those involved accomplished this through their combined efforts, everything was made possible by the deities’ numinous power.

As the project neared completion, the people asked Zhang Duo, the chief official of the circuit, to write the plaques, and once again honored the shrine by calling it a “palace.” The characters on the plaques were dignified and striking, drawing everyone’s attention. For three days, passing travelers and carts crowded the road; all marveled and praised the work, their reverence deepened. The stele on East Street records the deeds of the deities in their own words; the account by the western steps is the people’s tribute to the deities’ virtue.

These deities left many writings in their various palaces, in forms including stele inscriptions, records, divination slips, eulogies, formal writings, rhapsodies, petitions, memorials, judgments, discussions, prefaces, hymns, poems, songs, narratives, and expositions. Some have already been compiled and circulated in the world, their brilliance clear and worthy of record. The titles and honors bestowed upon Lingji Palace praise the names of the perfected ones of former dynasties, proclaim Heaven’s favor, make their virtue manifest, and pass their renown down to later generations. These are matters that elders of high standing and villagers, officials, and common people alike are glad to praise; no single person from the local community could fully express them in their own words.

Seven days later, the people gathered once more with those involved, carefully preparing sacrificial offerings and wine to perform the rite marking the project’s completion. They took their ceremonial places in the courtyard, reverent and absorbed in reflection. The work of assessing the undertaking over three years had now been completed through great effort. May the deities remember everyone’s labor and offer their support, so that all the villagers may receive blessings and serve the deities for generations to come. How could people fail to know where all this came from?

Now we wish to have this matter carved in stone, but fear that some may mock it as a calculated boast. For the time being, we have recorded only the date at Lingji Palace and respectfully composed this inscription:

Appointed to serve in the office of the Nine Heavens, we revere the divine spirits as they descend among humankind. The deity wields a sacred brush, inspiring awe; its divine might is vast and impossible to withstand.

Robes are prepared for the deity as a mark of honor. Friends and kin gather for a feast, celebrating together and naming this day “the Hall.”

Artisans and laborers are called upon to build a new palace. People come from every quarter, and by the appointed date the work is complete.

Achievements are assessed every three years, and all respectfully fulfill their duties. The undertaking is difficult and demands care; everyone works in harmony, of one mind and purpose.

The deity dwells peacefully in the palace, bringing joy to all. The people honor and follow these teachings, trust in the deity, and serve as commanded.

O deity, may your blessings reach the people. Heaven witnesses your virtue and grants you the honored title of “Perfected One.”

The painted image of the deity is vivid with color and radiant, as though the deity stood before us. The people repay divine grace with offerings, generation after generation, without fail.

Gentlemen of later generations, do not let this achievement and good intention fall into neglect. Inscribe this account on the wall and praise those who first undertook this work.

Record of the Renovation of Lingji Palace

In the tenth month of the thirtieth year of the Zhiyuan era under the Yuan Shizu, Zhang Guilong, a local scholar from Jishan Ward in Fujian, sent me a letter with a piece titled “Record of the Temple of the King of Numinous Aid.” He wrote: “This text was written by the deity himself. There is an ancient temple in our village, but it has no stele, and its buildings are on the verge of collapse. In the fifth month of the lunar calendar, Shen Jianweng oversaw the temple’s renovation. Zhang Guilong, Zhou Tong, and others joined in the effort and brought this good work to completion. The work was finished in the eighth month. The deity displayed his numinous power and sent down this record, intending it to be carved on a stone stele. He therefore ordered Lin Digong Yannian, a fellow villager, to write it out, and asked me to inscribe the title on the stele. I did not dare decline, and have respectfully signed my name.”

In the twelfth month, Zhang Guilong sent another poem, saying it conveyed the deity’s intent and asking me to record it. I had already agreed in my heart, but could not find the time. In the first month of the following year, he came in person to urge me to keep my promise. He also brought out a poem bestowed by the deity, comprising sixty-five rhyming lines. I had no prior connection with this text, yet the deity had entrusted it to me with such earnestness. This was truly astonishing.

Long ago, the River God bowed to Wang Bo and told him, “The Pavilion of Prince Teng is about to be completed. Go and write a preface for it.” At the time, the patron had already asked his son-in-law to prepare a text in advance. Wang Bo’s composition, however, was unexpectedly finished. Could it be that those who take up the brush to write are guided by a destiny ordained in the unseen world? So I burned incense, clicked my teeth, took up the record and the poem, and read them through several times with reverence. They were nothing like the writings of ordinary people. I then wrote:

“Remarkable indeed! Being wise and upright is a quality inherent in the gods; awe-inspiring power and numinous efficacy, which stir the hearts of those who witness them, are the outward expression of that divine virtue. The Temple of the King of Numinous Aid has stood since the Ka-yun era of the Later Jin in the Five Dynasties, and is already very old. You have sincerely served and received the deity’s favor for many years. What, then, is the meaning of what has happened today? I venture to ask.”

Zhang Guilong replied: “The deity’s writings are not limited to this record and this poem. Several years ago, his numinous traces were still hidden and unseen, and only scattered phrases were occasionally sent down. Now he displays his spiritual power openly, his literary brilliance shines, and he can communicate with people. His writings sometimes urge people to uphold righteousness, sometimes lead them toward goodness, and sometimes exhort them to be filial and respect their elders. He also writes essays on particular matters, including ‘Filling the Well,’ ‘An Essay Against the Spirits,’ ‘The Account of the Painter,’ ‘Praise for the Wall Image,’ and ‘Liangfu,’ as well as songs such as ‘The Capture of the Qilin.’ In every form—preface, postscript, letter, discussion, narrative, tune, ode, or memorial—his work takes countless shapes and grows more wondrous with each composition. Those who hear of these things come in crowds, bringing provisions with them, as shadows follow bodies.

“Anyone who approaches the deity with a sincere heart may ask about their own concerns, and the deity answers each person, word by word. Every answer takes the form of a piece of writing. Zhang Guilong, Shen Jianweng, and the others serve the deity day and night. When something happens, they ask him for written guidance, then use the text to verify the matter. Often their hearts and hands respond as one, as if matching a pledge. That is why everyone joined together to renovate the temple and raise a stele, in response to the gracious command sent down by the deity.”

I rose again and exclaimed: “Such writings may be like timely rain sent down from Heaven or clouds rising over mountains and rivers: signs that auspicious events are about to appear. When people’s wishes are soon to be fulfilled, there must first be an omen. Spirits can reveal these omens in advance, and writing seems to be the gods’ own pattern of sound and rhythm.

“Since the Tang dynasty, the court has selected talent through the civil service examinations. Scholars living in this age compete to win fame through their writing. In Shu, there is the deity of Zitong, who manifests his power in that region and presides over examination success. It is said that after the writings sent down during his ninety-four manifestations were circulated, scholars in Shu came to love and revere him as though serving their own parents. Those who passed the highest examinations and attained prominent official posts did not dare claim the credit as their own; they always said it was the deity’s blessing. Scholars throughout the land then began to worship the deity of Zitong as well, and his incense spread everywhere. The titles bestowed upon him became exceedingly exalted.

“The King of Numinous Aid today is the deity who was once known as Zitong. The deity of Zitong manifested his power in Shu; the King of Numinous Aid manifests his in Fujian. The writings bestowed by this deity may well be no less remarkable than the ninety-four pieces attributed to Zitong. In time, the King of Numinous Aid’s incense offerings may spread throughout the land just as Zitong’s have. Will his blessings reach only one region? Writing endures alongside Heaven and Earth and has never truly vanished for even a single day. What is temporarily obscured will eventually become clear; what is temporarily constrained will eventually find its way. That is why the deity has revealed these auspicious signs.”

When the divine stele was set up, the villagers rejoiced. At the time, Zhou Zhuangxi wrote the text for the back of the stele, saying: “Only after the deity of Mount Yue descended were Shen and Xin born. Is the Yin clan about to be born, or is it about to give birth to a man of the Yin clan?” It was as though someone had guided his hand and spoken through him as he wrote. The region’s spiritual vitality will grow ever more apparent, and outstanding people will continue to emerge. In generations to come, the talents of this place will surely win fame through their writing. The flourishing of the country is a cause for joy not only among scholars; it should also be celebrated by the deity.

“The deity’s surname was Xu. He was a human being in life and became a deity after death. His service was to the state, and his benevolence extended to the people. The origins of the divine family and the history of the temple’s imperial recognition are all recorded in the writings sent down by the deity. Here I give only a brief account of the temple renovation, the texts sent down, and the raising of the stele.”

Zhang Guilong added: “Earlier, when we petitioned the court to grant the temple a name plaque, no one knew the deity’s surname or personal name. The elders chose a surname by divination, and the result was Xu. They then chose the name Wang, meaning that his virtue was worthy of the sacrifices offered to the gods of the mountains and rivers in all four directions, and that he should be worshipped according to ritual. Now the deity has said of his own accord that he is the King of Jiang and is named Zhizheng; his younger brother is the King of Rao and is named Zhe’e. In this way, the deity’s titles have been formally confirmed, and his origins have become known.”

I once read the History of the Five Dynasties and, when I came to the account of the Prince of Qi in the Wu ruling house, felt a deep stirring in my heart. In his day, the Prince of Qi helped Yang Xingmi rise to power in Huainan alongside Liu Wei, Tao Ya, and others. He was a hero of his age. Later, though he held great authority and his power was immense, he still installed several descendants of the Yang family and honored them as rulers. Compared with Zhang Wenbiao’s refusal to submit to Zhou Baoguang, were their actions not utterly different?

Heaven and Earth endure without end, and the events of the past have long since scattered like dust. Yet the Prince of Qi’s two sons became kings, their names have been handed down for a hundred years, and they have received sacrifices from generation to generation. Alas, one may say that the Prince of Qi has not truly died.

This text was recorded on the Jiazi day, two days before the Shangyuan Festival.

The deity’s surname, personal name, titles of investiture, and place of origin are all recorded in the History of the Five Dynasties. In the fourth year of the Kaiyun era under the Jin, in the year called Xieqia, the deity answered Heaven’s mandate and descended to this place. By calculations based on the ancient calendar, more than two thousand sexagenary cycles have passed since then. In the second year of the Jiaxi era, the court granted the deity a title. Judging by the regulations governing sacrifices, the deity should be included in the state’s sacrificial rites.

On each of the Three Primal Days—the Upper, Middle, and Lower Primal Days—the Eight Festivals, Jiazi and Gengshen days, and the days when the Northern Dipper descends, those who wish to pray to the deity should fast in advance and perform the rites. They should remain pure and simple, and wholeheartedly observe the deity’s way. Holding to it with complete focus and without slackening, they can become one with the deity. This means simply concentrating the mind and spirit and following nature. The Yellow Emperor gained this Way and ascended into the clouds; the Queen Mother of the West gained it and dwelt at Shaoguang.

Even now, the deity’s vital spirit remains perceptive and undimmed. Through this Way, the deity roams the boundless heavens with Lord Fuqiu, Wang Ziqin, Sima Ziwei, Feng Dahe, and others. Listen, and no sound can be heard, though its voice is vast and far-reaching. Look, and no trace of form can be seen, though its name is lofty and renowned. Thus the four seasons each follow their proper course, all things remain unharmed, and blessings spread between Heaven and Earth. Who among later generations can truly know all this?

Long ago, Master Nanhua, Zhuangzi, quoted the words of the “Great Ancestral Master”: “Only with the True Person is there true knowledge.” Recently, we had the honor of receiving the thirty-eighth Celestial Master, who proclaimed and conferred the title “Perfected One of Great Purity, Concentrated Spirit, and Broad Dao.” Through what he knew and was able to discern of the principles of the Dao, he was worthy of being revered as a master. He therefore made a special petition to the Heavenly Court to posthumously invest the Prince of Jiang with the title “Great Immortal of the Nine-Heavens Golden Palace, Illuminator of the Dao, Achiever of De, Manifest in Spirit, and Widely Benevolent.” The Prince of Jiang’s wife, Lady Xu, was specially granted the title “Immortal Consort of Compliant Aid, Benevolence, and Grace.” The Prince of Rao was also invested with the title “Perfected One of the Nine-Heavens Jade Palace, Proclaimer of Transformation, Supporter of the Teachings, Supreme Immortal, Radiant in Spirit, and Broadly Benevolent.” The Prince of Rao’s wife, Lady Tao, was specially granted the title “Immortal Consort of Good Aid, Compassion, and Grace.”

These illustrious titles make them models for the world and allow their spirits in Heaven to display their merits. Now the realm is at peace and all things are in harmony. Rain and sunshine arrive in season, as though answering the people’s prayers. The scholars and common folk of the countryside rejoice and leap with delight. Together they dance facing north, clasp their hands, and bow, wishing the emperor boundless longevity and praising the deity’s beneficence. Wishing to pass these deeds on to future generations and engrave them on metal and stone, I therefore compose this poem as a preface:

Through attaining the One, one becomes spiritually attuned; such a being is called a spirit. What makes a spirit a spirit is its capacity for subtle, wondrous response.

Its realm is deep, obscure, and mysterious: it acts without action and has no form. Yet it possesses spiritual awareness and feeling, and embodies the wondrous qualities of De with undivided focus. I wish to leave these deeds for those who come after us, inscribing them on metal and stone and recording them in verse:

Through attaining the One, one becomes spiritually attuned; such a being is called a spirit. What makes a spirit a spirit is its capacity for subtle, wondrous response.

Its realm is deep, obscure, and mysterious: it acts without action and has no form. Yet it possesses spiritual awareness and feeling, joins with the Dao, and returns to what is real.

A True Person—that is, one who has attained the Dao—can ascend through the heavens and present a memorial to the Celestial Court. In recognition of this person’s exceptional merits, special honors are bestowed, and the deeds are inscribed on metal and stone.

Great Immortals and High Immortals ascend to the Ninth Heaven. They command the transformations of Heaven and Earth, bringing wind and rain, drought and flood at the proper times and in due measure.

The people are thereby saved. They rejoice, leaping with joy and hurrying to spread the news. They prepare ritual vessels for offerings—dou and bian, ancient vessels used to hold sacrificial foods. Who would dare fail to show reverence?

The spirits’ beneficence is deep and boundless, and all proclaim it in praise. These deeds are carved into enduring stone, to be passed down forever, for tens of thousands of years to come.

Written by Liu Jingfu, Daoist Registrar for the Fuzhou Circuit, an esoteric master of the Mingyuan Perfect Teaching.

“Record of the Sacred Splendor of Aofeng.”

South of Mincheng (present-day Fuzhou in Fujian), a great river flows from west to east. It is called the Xia River, or the Du River. About twenty li farther south stands a mountain called Aofeng. Here the beauty of many mountains gathers, and many waters meet; the shrine to the deities was built at this spot. Houses beside the shrine cluster like stars and are scattered like pieces on a chessboard.

The deities dwell among the people and descend at appointed seasons. At the festivals of the year, people offer them sacrifices of meat, vegetables, grain, and other gifts, and the deities protect the land. Relying on their blessings, households of every age can generally grow crops and raise livestock without fearing drought, flood, or other disasters, and so live in peace. The coexistence of humans and deities reflects the workings of Yin-Yang. This relationship has been passed down through the generations and must not be abandoned.

According to tradition, the two deities of Aofeng both had the surname Xu and were younger brothers of Xu Zhigao of the Southern Tang. The elder was named Xu Zhizheng and was titled the Perfected One of the Golden Gate; the younger was named Xu Zhikua and was titled the Perfected One of the Jade Gate. Legend says that in the Tang dynasty they once led troops into Fujian. Passing through Zhangzhou to suppress bandits, they were stationed at Aofeng and won military distinction. Later, they became immortals at Zhiyu. Heavenly lanterns and celestial music descended upon the place, so the people built a shrine to honor them.

The histories record that Xu Zhizheng was the fifth son of Xu Wen. He was first enfeoffed as Prince of Jiang and later as Prince of Wei. Xu Zhikua was Xu Wen’s sixth son, first enfeoffed as Prince of Rao and later as Prince of Liang. The brothers Wang Yanzheng and Wang Yanxi, rulers of the Min kingdom, fell out, and disorder within the kingdom grew worse. The Southern Tang sent the general Zha Wenhui to campaign against them, and, pressing his advantage, he captured the prefectures of Quanzhou, Zhangzhou, and others. The histories do not say whether the Xu brothers took part in the campaign. Perhaps the court historians simply omitted it.

Aofeng is lofty and beautiful, with a striking landscape. The vital energies of its mountains and rivers converge there, making it an apt place for deities to dwell. The deities protect the mountains and rivers and bring abundant harvests to the region. When people pray to avert disaster or ask for blessings, their prayers seem to receive a response. It is like jade hidden in a mountain, which nourishes the trees, or a pearl lying in the depths, which makes the water shine. There is sound reason for such effects, all the more so because the deities also performed meritorious deeds. Honoring worthy people of one’s home region after their death is, in any case, in keeping with ritual propriety.

Gao Xiong, son of Gao Tingli of Changle, who served as a Hanlin attendant, once prayed at the shrine, and the deities responded unmistakably, as though speaking to him face to face. His divinations, whether about great matters or small, were never in the least mistaken. He therefore commissioned a painting called The Divine Splendor of Aofeng to repay the deities’ kindness. He also asked Gao Xiong to record the relevant events, summarize their meaning, and make them known to the people of the region.

I respectfully note that the documents of the celestial realm use seal script shaped like phoenixes and characters shaped like dragons to record the names of virtuous spirits entrusted with Heaven’s mandate. The Perfected One holds a place in the Cinnabar Terrace and Jade Chamber; how could there be any concern about failing to attain immortality? The wondrous workings are beyond comprehension, and people cannot help but dance with joy.

I respectfully offer my congratulations to the Perfected One of Numinous Aid of the Nine Heavens. The Perfected One is upright and discerning, quietly advancing the benevolence that brings forth and transforms life, and has deeply mastered the Dao’s profound and mysterious teachings. Both awe-inspiring and compassionate, the Perfected One remains ever vigilant and cautious. It is precisely these qualities of De and ability that have earned the grace of an honorific title. Everyone considers this reward well deserved. The Perfected One’s achievements grow ever more evident, and all rejoice. I, too, respectfully offer my congratulations.

My origins are humble. I dwell in a remote corner like a reed, small and insignificant as a blade of grass, asking only to keep to my place. Thanks to the grace of the wise and enlightened ruler, I have come to understand the reasons behind this; I am no ignorant child. Now I submit this memorial to express my feelings, keeping them engraved in my heart, yet also feeling deeply ashamed. I humbly ask the Perfected One to hear me and recognize my small measure of sincerity. May the Perfected One reveal numinous power and send down blessings, nourishing and protecting the people as rain and dew moisten all things. May our wishes endure as long as Heaven and Earth.

Respectfully submitted: An edict has descended from the Ninefold Heavens, graciously appointing the recipient to the office of Supreme Minister of Nanchang. The seventeenth day of the ninth month coincides with the auspicious day on which the spirit descended upon Mount Song. The local gods of the land and the people alike have received this grace. May our wishes endure as long as Heaven and Earth.

“Memorial of Congratulations on the Auspicious Birthday at the Golden Tower” is a memorial submitted to celebrate the auspicious birthday of the Golden Tower.

In the name of a descendant of the Lü family, I respectfully address the Ninefold Heavens. Now the Lü family is honored to have received imperial favor and been granted the title of Supreme Minister of Nanchang. The seventeenth day of the ninth month, a propitious day when the divine spirits of Mount Song descended, was celebrated throughout the community, as the people joined in offering congratulations.

We respectfully recall the Nine Heavens Golden Palace Great Immortal of Illuminating the Dao and Attaining De, the Perfected One who manifests his numinous power and widely delivers the people. Your conduct is upright and your spiritual powers vast; you shine alongside the sun and moon and take part in Heaven and Earth’s transformation and nurturing of the myriad beings. You once made fifty-five vows, pledging to save the people. For more than four hundred years, you have continued to accumulate merit and cultivate good deeds. Through your virtue, you assist the world and accord with the Great Dao. You extend kindness to all beings, enabling each to find its proper place, and regulate the four seasons, keeping their cycles in order. All have thus received blessings through you—who would dare forget your kindness? We bow in reverence and sincerely wish you blessings and longevity. We further pray that the more than one thousand households of Jishan Township may all receive your protection, and that the fortunes of the sacred dynasty may endure, its foundations secure. Our hearts are filled with reverence and longing, beyond what words can express.

Again:

In the name of a descendant of the Lü family, I respectfully address you: Mount Song holds auspicious signs and gives rise to outstanding people, enabling them to serve as generals and ministers when the moment is right. Since receiving the title of Illustrious Spirit, you have assisted the state and protected the people. The propitious day in the ninth month coincides with your birthday, and your achievements have shone through the generations.

We respectfully recall the Lord of the Nine Heavens Golden Palace. You descend from the line of Prince Yan, whose family was enfeoffed for generations in the land of Qi. The people have offered you sacrifices for more than five hundred years, and you have also received imperial praise and a thirty-two-character honorific title. Your divine beneficence is manifest, and the court has repeatedly bestowed exceptional favors. This place, Aofeng, is remarkable in its numinous beauty, and auspicious signs appear there one after another, as though stars had descended beside a rainbow. We therefore raise cups in celebration of your birthday and respectfully offer our congratulations.

I reflect that I have been elevated to the register of immortals and serve at a shrine to the numinous. All who live beneath Heaven’s covering and Earth’s shelter receive the protection of the divine. Now that the day for expressing gratitude has arrived, how should we repay and worship the divine? Morning and night, I burn incense and light lamps, often gazing up at the radiance of the divine. The morning bell and evening drum, too, express in some measure my reverence. The offerings are modest and hardly worthy of mention; I only hope the divine will descend and accept them.

May the enlightened sovereign remain on the throne, keeping the realm of Huaxia at peace for ten thousand years. May the divine’s De shine forth, receiving honors and exalted titles for a thousand years. May the temples and monasteries remain pure and solemn, and may the community enjoy peace and tranquility.

Reverently, we say: the deity dwells in the palace and appears in majesty within the temple. Ruling over the hundred gods, the deity’s radiance shines forth and its clear renown spreads far and wide. The divine spirits protect us as we perform the sacrifices; years pass, yet even today they continue to bestow blessings. Your humble subject is awestruck and reverent, and bows twice with forehead to the ground.

We respectfully understand that the divine is vast and holy, holy and endowed with spiritual power. When people’s hearts are wholly sincere, the deity appears; when the deity appears, its efficacy becomes manifest. The deity comes and goes without limit, leaving no trace. For ages, people have looked up to the deity, and to this day they still receive its blessings. Though the deity can neither be seen nor heard, it is wise and upright, acting in accordance with good and evil in the human world. Whether near or far, hidden or subtle, the deity understands the nature of all things. Its virtue accords with Heaven and Earth, and its transforming influence follows the order of the four seasons. Its renown shines throughout the world, and its grace benefits the people.

People are bound to show reverence even for their hometown and the land of their ancestors; even ordinary offerings may be presented. We who preside over the Zhaijiao (purification ritual) live alongside the people of our community. Though counted among the Confucian literati, we wish only to rely on the deity and would not presume to seek private gain. Even the timely winds and rains do not defy the will of Heaven or the wishes of the people—how much less should this be so among human beings? The elderly live in comfort, the young are nurtured, and the people still receive the deity’s gifts. Scholars rejoice at court, farmers rejoice in the fields, artisans sing in their workshops, and merchants sing amid the bustle of the marketplace. Such achievements are lofty indeed; how can we repay the deity’s grace?

Thus, on the auspicious day celebrating the birth of the Perfected One, the Immortal Who Proclaims Transformation and Supports the Teachings, the Radiant and Numinous, the Broadly Benevolent, of the Jade Palace of the Nine Heavens, we gather during the Zhongyuan Festival, around the fifteenth day of the seventh lunar month, an important Daoist season for Zhaijiao rites and offerings. The Perfected One’s birthday shares the longevity of Heaven: it falls one day before that of Laizi, renowned in antiquity for filial piety, and eight days after that of King Kang. The Perfected One’s heavenly mandate is ever renewed, bringing peace and comfort to the people, who join together to celebrate blessings as lofty as Mount Song. Today, on the deity’s birthday, we unite in offering heartfelt wishes like those of the man of Huafeng who blessed Emperor Yao.

As the moon of the eighth lunar month waxes toward fullness, its radiance shines alongside the sun in the east. The immortals of Penglai enjoy ageless life, their brilliance linked with the Star of Longevity in the Southern Pole. Were people to see this with their own eyes, they would surely dance for joy, at a loss for words. We humbly pray that the deity be at our left, at our right, and above us: though its form remains unseen, may it ever watch over and protect us. May it grant wealth, long life, and flourishing prosperity, from this day to all eternity. The devotion and yearning of your humble subject are truly beyond words.

Another passage:

People often say that the divine is beyond the reach of ordinary understanding; this is what is meant by “divine.” When people offer their sincere devotion, the divine responds. To this day, the people continue to receive blessings from the divine, and this gracious favor must not be forgotten. It is through divine protection that we have remained safe and well until now; I dare not go against the will of the Lord of Heaven. My heart is filled with fear and reverence. I bow my head again and again.

I have respectfully learned that the realm without form or appearance is where the subtlety of the Great Dao resides. The Yellow Emperor Xuanyuan opened the hidden passages and sought the Dao; the Most High Lord Lao transmitted the Dao’s teachings and kept the lineage alive. The Dao possesses De yet does not claim it as its own. It is pure and still, empty and deep, silent and without a beginning on which to depend. It is mysterious beyond mystery, vast without limit, and holds its wonders within the ceaseless process of life and renewal. The Dao moves throughout Heaven and Earth and the six directions without rest. It governs the myriad things and overlooks nothing. Its height and greatness, its incomparable achievements, and the majesty and grace of its power are beyond words.

I reflect that, though I devote myself wholeheartedly to seeking the Dao, my abilities fall short of those of ordinary people. I submit this memorial: I will begin with the task at hand, diligently fulfill my duties, and dare not defy Heaven’s might. I also think of those appointed to preside over the jiao rites, who devote themselves to appeasing the spirits and praying for blessings. Through prayers for good fortune, I praise the efficacy of the divine. The divine beings are honored by their illustrious titles, and their spiritual might and renown spread far and wide. They dwell at ease in their palaces and receive reverence in their temples. Even when far from home, one should remain respectful; offerings of ping and fan herbs suffice to express one’s devotion.

Now the blessed morning of the Zhongyuan Festival has arrived, a day for gathering blessings, and it is also the birthday of the High Minister. Heaven and Earth display auspicious signs, and the whole community joins in celebration. At the full moon, people sing the hymn celebrating the birth of Shen on Mount Song. May life endure as long as Heaven, and may we together express the sincere wishes of the Three Blessings of Huafeng: long life, wealth, and many descendants.

This is because we are respectfully celebrating the birthday of the Jade Emperor, Lord of Heaven: You uphold the fundamental laws of the ten directions and have established great merit through countless eons. Near or far, all are beneath Your radiance. All beings endowed with blood and breath honor You. I open my heart and lay out my sincerity before You.

I am a mortal of the dusty world, of limited gifts. I keep watch over myself day and night, knowing my own foolishness and ignorance, yet I do not dare to think that the Lord of Heaven is so exalted as to be beyond communion. I fast and bathe, and serve the Lord of Heaven with reverence. The Lord of Heaven shines over the celestial realm; the spirits are perceptive and upright—this is what “divine” means. I stand reverently at the place of sacrifice, grateful for the chance to gaze upon Your countenance as if clouds had parted and the sun appeared. My heart is as if facing a deep abyss or treading thin ice; I proceed with care and dare not slacken.

I humbly pray that the Lord of Heaven, though revealing neither sound nor appearance, will still look kindly upon this rite; though leaving no visible trace, may You descend to protect us and extend Your safeguarding power, so that the people may prosper, flourish, and enjoy long and healthy lives. I look up to the sacred radiance of Heaven and am overwhelmed with gratitude and heartfelt devotion.

Petition to the Two Supreme Lords of the Upper Origin

As spring returns, Yang grows, and all things renew, the time is well suited for people to begin new endeavors. The temples rise high, seeming close at hand; surely, with sincere hearts, we may reach the mind of Heaven. We respectfully lay before the gods the wishes we have long held and pray that their blessings may grow ever more abundant.

Your servant bows in reverence and awe, prostrating twice. We respectfully honor the two Lords of the Nine Heavens: their lineage descends from Prince Yan, and their descendants were granted fiefs in Qi for generations. The two Lords’ numinous Virtue is vast, and their achievements resemble Heaven and Earth in nurturing all things. They aid the people, and their grace nourishes all like rain and dew. Their powers are boundless, and they roam at ease; they act with integrity and without selfishness. The people have worshiped the two Lords for four hundred years, and the court has bestowed on them a total of sixteen characters in honorific titles. Everyone has personally felt their grace—who would dare not revere them?

We respectfully beseech the two Lords to bestow lasting blessings upon us, so that we may sing verses wishing prosperity, peace, and harmony for the state, ask them to protect generations to come, and praise their enduring grace.

Petition to the Supreme Lord for Peace

To complain that Heaven is cold or hot is the thinking of the short-sighted. To remain mindful of danger in times of peace—only a gentleman knows to discern the signs and act in good time. Though we have already offered prayers on our own, we also rely on the gods’ unseen protection. I respectfully submit this expression of gratitude.

We respectfully honor the Numinous Benefactor Lord of the Nine Heavens, a revered Daoist deity renowned for manifesting his power to aid the people. His Virtue is equal to Heaven and Earth, and his grace falls everywhere like rain and dew. He reveals the brilliance of his numinous Virtue and carries out a benevolent purpose of widespread relief and universal kindness. When we consider how we, the people, live here in peace, dwelling together and long receiving the Lord’s protection, vast as the clouds and sky, how could we fail to serve him with all our sincerity? Yet we have not cultivated ourselves as we should, and truly feel no shame.

The warning of the earthquake in a neighboring region reminds us of the importance of caring for those nearby. People who live in the same place and wish to help one another must also guard against trouble before it arises. If we take precautions with care beforehand, we may perhaps be spared distress afterward. We also beseech the Lord to send timely rain to moisten our fields, so that the crops may bear well, the grains grow full, and the harvest be sound. Bestow blessings upon the people as well: long life, abundance, and well-being.

The divine spirits are not of our kind and must not be treated lightly in worship, for they can ward off calamities and dispel misfortune. “Even disasters sent down from Heaven can still be avoided”—how, then, could we dare neglect fasting and purification, the rites that cleanse body and mind before worship, or the observance of precepts? We are all sincere and cautious, filled with reverent unease. We look up to the spirits, whose De stands high in Heaven, then bow low in homage, grateful for their grace in protecting the land.

We belong to the same local community, our homes connected and our families neighbors for generations. Ashamed of our shallow understanding and limited experience, we nevertheless come respectfully on behalf of our neighbors to make this appeal, hoping that the conditions among the people may thereby be brought to the spirits’ attention. In the past, we heard that someone had confessed his own faults; why, then, did the Emperor’s anger still not subside? Now we ignorant people have come to pray and report our concerns. Perhaps we have offended the spirits by doing so. Could it be that the strange methods used by the physician were not thorough enough? Or has the man from Pu already begun plotting for private gain? Some are greedy and foolish like Cao Ju; others are arrogant and overbearing like Zichang. Who, then, should bear the blame? Why not take this opportunity to examine the signs: are these anomalies ill omens or auspicious ones? We ought to have prayed long ago. The spirits descend, the spirits arrive—could it really come to pass just as foretold?

We have done our best, yet fear that what we wish to say may be presumptuous. Yao Bin has not yet been able to accomplish this; the fault lies in our own lack of sincerity. The talismanic mandate translated from Heaven’s writing is inscribed in seal script on the Wentai. Figures such as Tai and Shishen are called malign spirits. The divine authorities act according to the standards of the Spring and Autumn Annals: wherever pernicious Qi descends, it must be driven out; wherever false and wicked practices arise, they must be put right. We earnestly ask that violent acts not be allowed to run unchecked and bring forth calamities at will. This is our heartfelt wish; may the divine authorities see it clearly.

We respectfully present our words before the True Lord of the Royal Palace in the Golden Court of the Nine Heavens, a revered deity of Daoism. The True Lord is both sage and divine, accomplished in civil governance and military affairs. Even when divine might is restrained, its signs remain manifest and awe-inspiring; when that might is exercised, it brings aid far and wide and reveals benevolence and De. For a thousand years and more, the rites of worship have been solemn and complete; the honor conferred in sixteen characters is a weighty grace. The divine might is like thunder in its wrath, shaking the Five Sacred Peaks; its merit and De shine like the sun and moon, illuminating the four quarters. The spirits drive away plague demons in the eastern hills and establish a barrier in the land of Hongnan. Thus the realm is clear and at peace, and the local communities can live in calm. Below, the spirits relieve the people’s suffering; above, they embody the Supreme One’s compassion and love of life. Though the people are deeply indebted to their grace, like the legendary children who played at striking the earth, they may not know that their well-being is the work of emperors or spirits.

We earnestly ask the spirits to put an end to punishments such as arrest and nose cutting, to ensure that matters are handled properly from beginning to end, and to let everyone remain safe. May those who have erred be received with tolerance, may right and wrong be judged with clear discernment, and may the spirits continue to protect the people. We dare not claim that our humble offering is as worthy as presenting celery, nor boast that we have earned merit by repaying kindness like the man who tied grass to help his benefactor.

Your servant has heard that the workings of the Dao began at the origin of the Wuji (the Limitless). At that time it was profound and mysterious, beyond the grasp of perception and understanding, and impossible to comprehend through calculation and reflection alone. Only after the Grandly Primordial Immortal (a perfected being in Daoist legend) established the scriptures with his purple brush could those who studied the Dao investigate its source, trace the courses of its currents, and compose liturgical texts and numinous writings so that these teachings might be passed down to the world. I speak with due caution: my own contribution has been no more than a few insignificant efforts.

There is now a divine being who takes the performance of purification rites and the observance of precepts as his work, and the salvation of the living and deliverance of the dead as his vow. His writings also accord with the Daoist liturgical canon. All people of exceptional intelligence and fine conduct have heard of these deeds by word of mouth. Might they also reach the ears of Heaven?

I have carefully examined the Nine Heavens Golden Palace Perfected Xu and the Nine Heavens Jade Palace Perfected Xu. Their reputations have spread far, and their merit has benefited the people. Judging their practice from within and their deeds from without, they truly possess the roots and bearing of immortals, as well as the resolve to accumulate goodness and establish merit. They are devoted cultivators who place their faith in the Three Treasures (the Dao, the scriptures, and the teachers). If they had not formed a bond in a former life, gained deep insight into the divine mysteries, and mastered transformation, who could have achieved this?

The texts they composed—the “Transformative Writings on the Wondrous Precepts of the Nine Perfected,” the “Rite of the Divine Lamps of the Nine Prisons,” the “Rite for Offering Sacrifices to the Three Realms,” and the “Rite for Protecting Horses”—all derive from the profound words of the Most High. By examining and selecting what is sound within them, one can naturally compile them into chapters. These numinous sounds and writings can serve as a bridge through which all beings escape calamity. This is what is meant by “shutting the door and making a cart”: one may gain benefit from these methods without leaving home, and their worth cannot be measured by the passage of years.

There are also the “Special Offering Rite for Numinous Deliverance,” the “Ritual Text of Original Vows,” and the “Rite of the Seven Luminaries’ Lamps.” These were not written to win merit for themselves, but in response to the people’s requests. Your servant is dull in nature and shallow in understanding, and my words are of little worth. Yet examining these deeds and assessing these abilities is precisely what I am obliged to report. I request that the relevant materials be carefully reviewed and selected, compiled into a collection, and copied for presentation. Your servant Xu and the others have already received the grace of imperial favor, with appointments to office and advancement in the ranks of immortals. I now further hope that Your Majesty will grant this request and authorize the Daoist liturgical texts composed by your servant Xu and the others to be promulgated throughout the Three Realms—the heavens, the human world, and the underworld—so that the relevant localities may each follow them, observe them, and verify their practice. This will not only make manifest the merit of numinous deliverance and salvation, but also strengthen our influence and answer the hopes of the people of the southeast, bringing them comfort. I await Your Majesty’s decision.

The general meaning of “Preface to the Ritual Forms of the Perfected Lord” is as follows:

I once believed that Laozi’s teachings were fully contained in the five thousand words of the Dao De Jing. Those who studied the Dao in later generations did not need to read every text in order to grasp its essential meaning. What was passed down by the Han Celestial Master (Tianshi) was the orthodox tradition of the Dao. More than twelve hundred years have now passed, and the Celestial Master’s name and reputation have spread in every direction. From high officials to ordinary people, all who hope for long life and good health turn to him in faith and pay him reverent homage.

Today, the Celestial Master has manifested as a deity and is honored as the “Perfected Lord of Numinous Aid.” Drawing on his own extraordinary spiritual endowment, he displays divine powers. It is said that in his early years he was fortunate to receive from the Celestial Master the methods of lead and mercury—Daoist terms of cultivation that often refer to substances used in practice or to transformations of Yin-Yang. His spiritual nature therefore shone like a bright pearl, never losing its luster. He writes with a steady, flowing hand, and every word and phrase is radiant with literary grace.

When I first heard these accounts, I was astonished, yet only half convinced. One day I brought incense to visit the shrine. There I read the inscriptions and eulogies he had composed, and found that their words were indeed unlike those of worldly people. My doubts gave way to belief. This book alone, however, was kept with great care by local scholars, who did not readily show it to others. I sought it for a long time before at last obtaining it. After burning incense and reading it aloud several times, I found that its principles unfold from the scriptures of the Great One (Taishang), profound yet clear, broad in scope and in accord with the Dao. Among the heavens, hidden Brahma-sounds—sacred voices of the celestial realm—resound in layer upon layer. The vows and merits of helping the world and delivering people are as vast as seas and mountains. Its wondrous workings are mysterious and difficult to fathom, now appearing, now concealed. How could anyone of shallow learning and limited understanding presume to comment on them?

Yet whether these wondrous principles can be brought to light ultimately depends on the Perfected Lord himself. I have often considered writing a preface or postscript to this book, but worried that people of keen understanding would laugh at me for doing something unnecessary. The Perfected Lord’s virtue shines as brightly as the sun and moon; in time, someone truly learned and discerning will surely write a preface for him. Here I have only sketched the general meaning.

Postscript by Ouyang Gongzhufang, Assistant Gentleman of the Upper Yuan and Professor at the Lu School, in the thirtieth year of Zhengyuan.

A “vow” is the aspiration of a perfected person—one who has attained the Dao—and it is also the aspiration of ordinary people. Kneeling and bowing express single-mindedness of heart; to be single-minded is the highest form of goodness. Human nature is good from the beginning, just as water naturally flows downhill. What troubles me is that people do wrong and refuse to correct themselves. It is precisely this concern that makes the vow an appeal for people to turn toward goodness. In that light, can it really be only a prayer?

By looking up at the patterns of Heaven, we arrive at the number twenty-five; by observing the Earth below, we arrive at thirty. Together, the two numbers make fifty-five. It is on the basis of this number that the vow can be fulfilled. If we cannot accomplish this work together with Heaven and Earth, how could we reach such a state? Goodness is the principle that sustains the order of Heaven and Earth. Even the slightest trace of affectation, deceit, disrespect, or negligence falls outside what I mean by a “vow.” How, then, could it be equated with goodness?

The Traditions say, “Goodness has no fixed master; all must work together to make it whole.” This means holding to goodness from beginning to end, without giving up halfway or abandoning oneself. Only then is goodness brought to its fullest perfection. Goodness is the foundation of good fortune, and good fortune is the result of accumulated good deeds. Gao Ying of the Tang dynasty once said, “Accumulate goodness to bring about good fortune; there is no need to spend money seeking it.” If good fortune can be sought without spending money, how can doing good be called an expense? When you see a good deed, show it to one another; when you hear good words, pass them on to one another. All who share this aspiration should encourage one another with these words. Then they will not be ashamed before Heaven and Earth, or before the perfected person. This, too, is the perfected person’s greatest aspiration.

“Memorial on the Reconstruction of Lingji Palace” (a prayer written for the reconstruction of Lingji Palace)

According to the History of the Five Dynasties: Hereditary House of Huainan, the sons of the Qi King of the Xu family were the Prince of Jiang and the Prince of Yu. They are the two perfected immortals now known as the Golden Portal and the Jade Portal, revered by Daoists as immortal beings. The two perfected immortals have long excelled at poetry and prose, and their spiritual responses have been remarkably efficacious. The people of the southeast have enjoyed their protection and received their beneficence—far more than that of Cao Gui, the figure or old story mentioned in the text.

In the gengyin year of Yongle (1410), a severe drought occurred, deeply troubling the local officials. Only the two perfected immortals sent down sweet rain on the appointed date, demonstrating their efficacy. Officials and ordinary people alike felt that the temple had fallen into disrepair and should be renovated to repay the kindness shown through this divine manifestation. They therefore composed a brief document with reverence and approached people of renown throughout the region, asking them to write an account. All who took part in the undertaking would receive blessings.

I respectfully submit this account: He resigned from office and entered the path of the immortals. For a thousand years and more, writings have shone in the jade registers that record the names of perfected immortals. He stationed troops to suppress bandits and protect the region; for ten thousand years, incense has been offered in his honor, as though bringing peace to the great golden turtle said to bear the immortal mountains. People remember the blessings left by the governance of the Duke of Shao, and the ancestral temple, too, has nurtured the wondrous grace of spirit fungus.

The family’s status is lofty, its residence broad, and the scenery of Embroidered Ridge faintly visible. Before the palace, all is solemn and dignified, as if the gods had descended in manifest splendor. In a daze, clouds and rosy mists drift at ease beyond the city of Jinguan; deep within the jade windows, the sun and moon shine bright. Facing the Golden Palace of the immortals, auspicious energy is especially clear, gathering the vitality that nourishes life over the ages. Blessings and prosperity endure, good deeds accumulate, and the houses of dukes and nobles flourish from generation to generation.

This place is a pillar of the Great Dao and a model for people near and far. Seeking good fortune and avoiding calamity, people consult the immortal way in the precious scrolls and jade books treasured in Heaven. It manifests good deeds and punishes evil, while people move among one another in the world like brothers bound by the closest affection. Visitors come regularly through the seasons to pay their respects, like children entering the courtyard to greet their elders; at the time of frost and dew, they feel all the more keenly that the immortal isle lies close at hand.

The high officials at court have already experienced the efficacy of its medicines and remedies. The people of the sea realm received timely rain, and the withered crops soon ripened. Now, green moss reflects the grass beyond the curtains, gradually creeping toward the footprints of passersby; wind sweeps across the emerald-tiled eaves. It is as though skilled hands that could mend the sky have rebuilt the roof, while rain has washed the ruined walls and restored the foundations.

To restore the old order, how could extraordinary achievements be accomplished without summoning the strength to press forward with courage? A mighty brush, fit to support the rafters, has already recorded these deeds, and walls many fathoms high will soon be built. A stream lies to the left, a rushing current to the right; the Purple Palace of the immortals is close by, as though it were the dwelling of the immortals. A jade table stands in front, flying reeds behind; the lofty writing rises straight to the stars where the Cowherd and Weaver Girl dwell.

When one person is blessed, the ten thousand states are at peace. I respectfully submit this account.

Written by Lin Hanmeng of Boling.

Postscript to Two Pieces of Xu Xian’s Elegant Writings

When a gentleman lives in an age of clarity and order, when he can accomplish his work, it is only natural that he write to stir his own resolve and use his writing to advance the Dao. This is no matter of luck. The world can indeed be governed well through human talent and effort; anyone who aspires to the Dao and hopes to make a difference in his own time through writing must also have the means to do so.

To possess a precious jade yet keep it hidden in Mount Jing is no misfortune; there is reason in that, too. That spirits appear amid darkness and stillness, with incense smoke curling around them—is that an ordinary occurrence? That writing can move people so deeply—ah, is that not remarkable?

The Xu Xian’s Literary Works (Xu Xian Hanzhao) contains a great many pieces, including records, encomia, rhapsodies, and hymns. The editor has weighed the wording carefully, avoiding empty phrases; every piece argues for correcting the ways of the age and encouraging its people. The human world and the netherworld are separated, yet these writings seem somehow entangled in worldly concerns. This is difficult to understand.

I suppose that the gentleman here aspired to the Dao and happened to live in an age of clarity and order, when he could put his ambitions into practice. His principles ought to have been carried out, and his resolve ought not to have been taken from him. So he used writing to make his teaching seem wondrous. Yet when he took up his brush, it seems there was truly no room for human effort. Whether this was the work of a person or of spirits, I dare not say. Otherwise, even the River Chart (Hetu), the auspicious diagram of legend, and the Luo Writing (Luoshu), the mysterious document of legend, might be said to have been made by Fuxi and Yu the Great. For this reason, I have not attached these remarks beneath the main text, but have placed them after the postscripts to the various pieces.

A further note.

The divine must work through human beings to convey its will, just as human beings must rely on the divine to accomplish anything. Today, people and the divine communicate through words written down, one by one. Do written words make the divine manifest, or does the divine appear through words written by human beings?

The Hetu and Luoshu—diagrams and writings said to be associated with the sage kings of antiquity—seem quite extraordinary. Even sages such as Fuxi and Yu the Great relied on them to verify and believe in their principles. Ordinary people, with their limited understanding centuries later, can hardly avoid doubt and puzzlement. Read these texts as a means of communication between humans and the divine, and examine their words: all take the intentions of sages and worthies as their standard. Rituals, laws, punishments, and affairs of government seem laid out as clearly as if held in the palm of one’s hand. Why are they so deeply concerned for the people, and why is their compassion for them so astonishing? Is this the intention of the divine, or of human beings? How could one not wonder?

Stories of using fish and dragons to bring about wind and rain are also widely told in the world. So I say that bringing principles to light through sincerity depends both on the divine and on human sincerity. If one cannot decide even a single matter or find words to handle even a single statement, then, even if one hopes to spread one’s reputation in the world by invoking the divine, I do not know whether that can be done.

When I take up my brush, I cannot shirk my responsibility. If the great bells Huangzhong and Dalu—ancient symbols of refined and proper music—are left unplayed, while the coarse clamor of earthenware basins rings out everywhere, would that not diminish the divine’s reputation? Since The Literary Works of the Immortal Xu has already circulated widely, how could I fail to treasure and preserve it?

Edict Plaque Inscription for the Upper Lingji Palace.

Reverence for the Perfected One of Lingji: Longshou Mountain rises high and proudly, and Aofeng Peak towers above its surroundings. The mortal world seems spread out here like a splendid brocade, making this a fitting place to build an altar. A screen woven of blue cloth was set up, and the auspicious omen was indeed fulfilled. People have gathered here for a thousand years, and it remains a meeting place for all. The shrine is solemn and dignified, its painted decorations newly renewed, and its overall design grand and magnificent.

The Perfected One of Lingji possesses vast spiritual powers and is upright and wise. Incense burns in abundance, and stories of his efficacious deeds are widely told. Recently, someone took up the brush to write an account, using this story to convey a moral admonition and teach people to observe ritual and duty. Now a stele is being erected so that the Perfected One’s merits may be plainly seen. In the past, he was honored with an imperial plaque; now he has received a solemn title from the Son of Heaven. His name is entered in the registers of the immortals and he holds a place among their ranks. The honors bestowed on him are exceptionally generous, and imperial favor runs deep.

Now we are fortunate to welcome the Chief Commissioner, an official of the fourth rank, whose blessings protect the Three Mountains. He possesses Duke Zhou’s ability to serve the spirits with reverence, and understands the ritual propriety that Confucius described for sacrifices to Heaven in the suburbs and to the soil deity. In accordance with sacrificial rites, the court has bestowed a name upon the temple. He wrote the great characters with a powerful hand, their strokes broad and bold, transforming the appearance of mountains and rivers and shining with a brilliance to rival the sun and moon. The village shrine is thereby made splendid, and the people and scholars alike rejoice.

The poem says: The Son of Heaven has enfeoffed the Perfected One of Lingji as a true immortal. May he bestow blessings upon the people and communicate with Heaven and Earth. The plaque gleams brilliantly, its characters large as measuring vessels; may the temple gates stand magnificent for a thousand years.

We respectfully pray that once the golden plaque has been hung, customs will become peaceful and sincere, and the community will be loyal and harmonious. May scholars, farmers, artisans, and merchants all share in its blessings; may wind and rain, cold and heat, arrive in due season; and may harvests be abundant year after year, with everyone enjoying prosperity. We further pray that the Son of Heaven grant an eight-character imperial inscription, written in gold, so that the incense rites may continue for ten thousand years; may we offer prayers each year for the emperor’s boundless longevity.

“Text on Presenting an Imperial Plaque to the Hall of Kinship”

With this hall, devoted to teaching human relations and strengthening harmony among kin, in mind, a large plaque hangs high above, its lettering brilliant. Now that customs are returning to simplicity and goodness, this place will from this day onward be known through the ages as “Village of Accumulated Goodness.”

With reverence, we praise Lord Lingji, a revered Daoist deity. He is upright and wise, dwelling in harmony within his palace and solemnly honored in his temple. His guards and banners stand in stately array; his fame is renowned, and his divine light shines bright. The imperial court issued an edict conferring praise and honor in eight characters, leaving a sacred legacy for a thousand years. Now the temple halls have been newly restored and this hall built. The people all look up to it, and its appearance is solemn and stately. From this day, customs will grow more earnest and sincere, and hearts of filial respect for parents and affection among brothers will arise naturally.

We respectfully pray that once the plaque is hung, harmony will prevail between young and old: the young will understand the proper relations between generations, and elders will each uphold their place. May the village be at peace, the elderly live in comfort, and the young find support and belonging. The Book of Songs says, “Heaven’s principles are embodied in the Three Bonds and Five Constant Virtues; teach the people, and they will grow in affection for one another.” We respectfully pray again that once the plaque is hung, harmony will prevail between young and old: the young will know their proper relations, and elders will keep their proper order; may the village be peaceful, the elderly live in comfort, and the young find support and belonging. The Book of Songs also says, “Teach the people through Heaven’s principles, the Three Bonds and Five Constant Virtues, so that they may love and live in harmony, and build this hall. If the people can repay kindness in this way, then in time an honorific gate celebrating filial piety and fraternal devotion may be raised before their homes.”

Edict Conferring the Plaque “Hall of Joyful Banquets”

We respectfully declare: this secluded and solemn temple is filled with divine presence; its guards and banners stand in stately array, and its painted decorations have all been renewed. May the deities protect the people of the eastern lands with long life and prosperity. The Marquis of Lu, in his joy, built a palace and named it “Joyful Banquets.”

With reverence, we praise the Perfected Lord Lingji: his temple is pure and serene, and the deity manifests to protect the people. The imperial court bestowed a plaque inscribed in gold with eight characters, and the palace was filled with consorts. The palace halls are solemn and orderly; prayers receive a response, and blessings of every kind descend together. First, the sincerity of the sacrifice was briefly expressed; afterward, auspicious dreams followed, and at last the longed-for wish for a son came true. The gates and courtyards are magnificent, and the plaque shines brilliantly.

We respectfully pray that once the plaque is hung, descendants will flourish, inheriting the virtue symbolized by the cricket, whose many offspring signify a thriving lineage. May blessings endure through the generations, and may the clan peacefully enjoy the happiness of an unbroken family line, as sung in “Already Drunk” from the Book of Songs. The Songs say: “Ao Peak rises high, revealing a numinous presence; a net woven of blue cloth serves as proof. The Kong family once carried the child in their own arms; the spirit of Mount Song descended, and indeed became the patron of the Shen family.”

Sincere Thanks for the Rain

With heartfelt sincerity, we give thanks for the rain.

The villagers, including Huang Yuan, reflected that it was the height of the farming season in summer. If rain continued to fail, they would need to pray for relief from drought, so that the Drought Demon—a mythical being said to cause drought—might quietly depart, and the heavenly gods might grant a response to their prayers. With reverence, they presented their wishes to the True Immortal. They fasted and bathed, offered thanks and prayers, and chose the eighteenth day of the fifth month to invite the Daoist assembly with sincere devotion. They paid homage and respectfully invited the Perfected Lord Hong’en Lingji to go to Longshutan, at Aofeng, and bring back sacred water.

At noon, the sacred water was brought to the palace and enshrined. Soon a response came: clouds rose in the southwest, and rain began to fall in the hour of the Goat. That night, they opened the ritual precinct and performed the offerings according to the liturgy. They also set up a special altar for a Dragon King Purification Ritual, a Zhaijiao rite for worshiping the Dragon King, and performed a hundred bows while reciting the Repentance Text of Facing Heaven. In the night, blessed rain fell in abundance. By the twentieth day, the rainfall was plentiful and the fields had all been watered, so they held a special ceremony to give thanks.

They invited the various True Gods and again held purification rituals at the spirit tablets of the Dragon King, the Ancestor of the Fields, and other deities. They prayed to the Southern and Northern Dipper constellations and the arrayed stars, lit star lamps, and performed the Zhaijiao rite at the hour of the Tiger to offer their gratitude to the Perfected Lord. Though their offerings were modest, they devoted themselves fully to completing the thanksgiving ritual and prayed for auspicious blessings. They wished only for rain and sunshine in due season, so that the workings of Heaven and Earth would remain harmonious and smooth, bringing the auspicious sign of abundant grain.

With the Nine Ceremonial Bows, they expressed their reverence and returned the Perfected Lord’s kindness. Though their offerings were humble, they devoted themselves fully to completing the thanksgiving ritual. They prayed for his lofty grace, and wished for rain and sunshine in due measure, in accordance with the workings of Heaven and Earth, so that the hundred grains might flourish. May the Perfected Lord’s supreme De spread in all directions and bring harvests to every region. May the people sing as they strike the earth, live in peace, and may the sacred one’s lifespan equal that of Heaven and endure for ten thousand years. May all things grow luxuriantly and long enjoy the teachings of harmony and peace. The people are deeply grateful and respectfully offer their homage.

End of Volume Three of the Collected Praises of the Numinous

Volume Four of the Collected Praises of the Numinous

Poems

Offered to the Perfected Lord

Zhao Di of Baihu

On the southern side of Fang Mountain stands an ancient shrine. People say it enshrines the brothers Xu Zhiyu, who lived during the Five Dynasties period. They were known as the two Perfected Ones of the Golden Gate and the Jade Gate. The Perfected Ones were descendants of the divine, and nearly five hundred years have passed since their deaths. Even if their spirits have ascended to the heavens, they still watch over the people. When people face droughts or floods, illness or plague, prayers to them often receive a response. Though I, Di, am not wise, I too wished to bow and pray before the shrine, so I composed “Steps in the Void”—a hymn praising the gods, sung during Daoist purification rituals—to offer to them.

The sages are descendants of the divine; their spirits dwell in the realm of Great Luo Heaven. Red banners rise high, soaring above the purple clouds; emerald canopies stretch together across the blue sky. Their wondrous radiance is beyond the changes of day and night, shining brightly in the stillness of the empty void. Auspicious Qi appears above the Jade Cavern, while rosy clouds glow beyond the crimson woods.

The sages are descendants of the divine; their spirits dwell in the realm of Great Luo Heaven. Red banners rise high, soaring above the purple clouds; emerald canopies stretch together across the blue sky. Their wondrous radiance is beyond the changes of day and night, shining brightly in the stillness of the empty void. Auspicious Qi appears above the Jade Cavern, while rosy clouds glow beyond the crimson woods. This morning, the Perfected Ones seemed to descend in solemn splendor; their phoenix-bird procession was faint and elusive. They care for the people in the mortal world and often dispel their troubles.

The second

How lofty the celestial palace, rising to the green mountain peak. The Perfected Ones’ glorious names have been handed down for generations, and their divine light shines in every season. Their images are fully formed, lending them an even more solemn and majestic presence; the shrine’s orderly design is reverent and dignified, like an imperial audience hall. In the green halls, incense smoke curls coolly; daylight falls across the rafters, and even the clouds seem chilled. I, a lowly mortal, by what means could I reach that wondrous realm?

The third

How lightly the feathered canopies drift, as wondrous clouds descend upon the Vermilion Palace. The phoenixes’ calls are faint and far away; the chill of autumn spreads among the trees. Jade liquid flows, purple clouds rise; above the Divine Empyrean, red banners glide in procession. The immortals’ feathered robes gradually vanish beyond the stars, and their music fades into the sky. The Great Void falls silent in an instant; in the blink of an eye, the immortals gathering rosy clouds have disappeared. Only the chant of “Steps in the Void” can be heard; in the sky, all that remains is a green peach lit by moonlight.

Blossoms like Japanese kerria flowers link together along the branches. The Thearch commanded me to guard this land. The spirits bestow their grace, sending a Yin wind, followed by cool, numinous rain. The pestilence subsides, and relief from famine, too, depends on the spirits’ protection. Their mysterious workings unfold in depths beyond fathoming, while their achievements in aiding the fortunes of the age are plain to see. The Great Luo Heaven is lofty, distant, and cool, serene and bright—a residence for the spirits. The Spirit King wears robes woven from clear clouds and rides beneath a feathered canopy, traveling along a road of colored clouds. At ease, he rides the mighty wind, about to ascend above the purple clouds.

“Twelve Poems on Visiting the Ji Palace”

Yang Jingheng of Yongxi, Assistant Grand Councillor on the Left, and the Perfected Zhang of Shangqing, a high-ranking Daoist, were ordered to conduct a Yanxi Jiao, a Daoist purification ritual seeking blessings, at the Lingji Palace. They composed these poems to commemorate the grand occasion.

The spirits of mountains and rivers appear, and the fortunes of the state prosper; Immortals from Shangqing, the Daoist celestial realm, descend bearing incense. The Jiao ritual begins on the Heavenly Altar beneath cloud banners. All wear feather ornaments; after paying their respects, they return from the Moon Palace.

How glad we are that this grand gathering could be held in this blessed place. I once thought Penglai, the Immortal Isles, lay beyond the impassable Weak Water, but now it seems not so far away. Facing the wind, I would ride a crane from the Jade Terrace up to the heavens, scattering abundant blessings throughout the Nine Provinces.

Another poem, by an earlier author.

Three emerald mountains rise in flight, joined to the Turtle Peak; the Purple Palace, a Daoist celestial realm, stands lofty and cold, stretching across the heavens. Light rises from the alchemical cauldron, illuminating the moon over a thousand mountains; the Jade Terrace’s fragrance drifts on the breeze among a hundred flowers. The spirits’ illustrious achievements reveal their efficacy in granting blessings; the emperor’s deep benevolence bestows titles. When will the palace-temple also… (the text breaks off here and the meaning is incomplete); the favor granted to the Perfected is often seen among the white clouds.

Another poem, by Peng Shen of Gusu, Assistant Grand Councillor on the Right.

Flowers crowd around the fragrant carriage, while the purple phoenix that draws it spreads its wings; the sound of the dongxiao flute drifts down from above the colored clouds. The stars of the Nine Heavens gleam over the mountain halls; at the fifth watch, wind and thunder circle the stone altar. Immortal fruit weighs down the branches, and the red lychees have ripened; the courtyard’s parasol trees cast cool shade, and stillness fills the grounds. The spirits’ illustrious achievements repeatedly bring blessings. May they protect the dynasty forever and keep all beneath Heaven at peace for ten thousand generations.

Another poem, by Li Ye, Assistant Grand Councillor on the Right.

I set aside official business and came during my free time to pay my respects at the divine palace. Following the stone path, I walk into the shadowy depths where stream and mist disappear.

Beyond the window, two crows call in broad daylight; beside the steps, flowers and grasses grow intertwined, their blossoms revealing the bright red hues of spring.

In his own time, he received a command to wield the talisman and was invested with a princely title. Later, he quelled calamities, and his military achievements were recorded. His divine influence and instruction spread throughout the region, bringing blessings to its people. They have been worshipped for generations, and their beneficence continues without end.

Also: Zhou Chang, Assistant Commissioner of Fengyang

Twice a year he comes to the palace of the immortals. With sincere devotion, he plants apricot trees to repay the spirits for their merit. The fragrance of the numinous medicine can heal illnesses that have resisted treatment for years; the talismans repeatedly prove effective, rousing the weak and dispirited. Flowers bloom at the mouth of the grotto, as if inviting visitors to seek the immortal deer; rain and mist veil the mountainside, as if one could hear the divine dragon expounding the Dao. Their merits were carved in stone and robes bestowed upon them, so that the spirits might be worshipped for generations. The court conferred higher titles in recognition, granting abundant honors.

Also: Qian Shu, Left Vice Director of the Secretariat in Shaoxing

Pausing for a time on his journey, he ascended Ao Peak. Again and again he paid his respects, ever recalling the achievements of the two brothers. In former times, they used arms to quell disorder; for a thousand years they have been worshipped in the temple, with offerings made in autumn and winter. Poems and prose written in response to prayers have repeatedly shown miraculous effects. The court praised their efficacy and bestowed higher titles upon them. They protect the state and shelter the people; their divine power is vast. The winds and rains come in due season, and their blessings are perfectly fitting.

Also: Zeng Ji, Supervising Secretary in the Ministry of War at Sanshan

He once led the Heavenly Army across the gorge, and a million warriors surrendered at the sight of his advance. The Golden Ao receives offerings, and is truly worthy of reverence; the cinnabar registers in the Jade Palace of Heaven also record the two spirits. Their sword and pendant are solemn and austere amid drifting clouds and mist; tier upon tier, pavilions rise above lofty, rugged rocks. Their illustrious names have endured from antiquity to the present, and their vigorous writings are renowned throughout the realm.

Also: Yang Ningyuan, Assistant Director in the Ministry of Revenue at Xiujiang

Green mountains and clear waters accord with Heaven’s design. Heaven bestowed worthy men to guard the high ground beside the water. From dawn to dusk, they can discern calamity from good fortune; their judgments of right and wrong are exact to the smallest degree.

The ancestral shrine has stood beyond the Three Mountains since ancient times. The blessings bestowed by the divine have spread far and wide, known to people throughout the four seas. The descendants of the imperial house are transcendent and refined, entered in the registers of the immortals; their noble names will be remembered by later generations. Such a thing is rare indeed in this world.

Another inscription, by Zhu Chun of Shanyin, Supervising Secretary in the Office of Judicial Review:

I respectfully carried the imperial commission throughout southern Fujian. Passing the Hong’en Lingji Temple on Aofeng, where the Two Perfected Ones of Lingji are enshrined, I gazed upon it and paid my respects. When I had finished, I happened to meet Daoist priests at the temple leading several young attendants, dressed in Daoist robes and wearing crane-feather cloaks. They invited me to the Chrysanthemum Pavilion. As we drank tea and talked, they asked me to write a poem expressing my reverence and devotion. I then took my leave and composed a regulated seven-character poem, offering a small expression of respect for the deities of our dynasty. I ask those who read it in the future to correct any errors.

Respectfully bearing the imperial commission, I came to southern Fujian;

On the way, I halted and was able to pay homage to the Two Perfected Ones.

The solemn temple halls tower into the clouds; their splendid robes remain fresh and bright year after year.

A jade stele recording their achievements seems to have descended from heaven; the grotto-palace of the immortals shines forth, illuminating the coast.

In this age of peace and prosperity, the rites of sacrifice grow ever more stately.

May they endure for ten thousand years, like the offerings made to the soil and grain altars of the state.

Another inscription, by Meng Shi of Pei, Administrative Secretary in the Ministry of Revenue:

In the eleventh month of the renzi year of the Xuande era (1432), I was sent by imperial command to serve in Fujian. Passing by Golden Aofeng, I wished to pay my respects at Lingji Temple. I saw that the temple had been renewed and adorned. This was because the Two Perfected Ones were devoted both to loyalty and to filial piety, and their achievements benefited the state while their blessings reached the people. They also set the workings of creation in motion, bestowed divine grace far and wide, and protected the emperor. They therefore deserved fine honorific titles and rites that would continue for generations, in gratitude for the protection they had granted. All this reflected the enlightened sovereign’s profound benevolence and abundant compassion, enduring like Heaven and Earth. How could it have happened by chance? So I bowed, touched my forehead to the ground, and composed a poem:

I once read in the histories of heroes’ deeds:

Two brothers, united in heart, achieved great things.

In life, they served their parents together; who could have guessed that after death

They would continue to serve the throne with loyalty?

“On a clear, quiet night, a good dream shows its efficacy” means that in the stillness of night, a wondrous dream reveals a divine response. The following lines repeat the poem:

I once read in the histories of heroes’ deeds:

Two brothers, united in heart, achieved great things.

In life, they served their parents together; who could have guessed that after death

They would continue to serve the throne with loyalty?

On a tranquil night, the spirits sent down an auspicious dream, proclaiming the flourishing age of the present day. They bestowed a wondrous remedy of red stone, which cured the sovereign’s illness.

The temple is solemn, and the sacrifices are conducted with great ceremony. For generations without end, the people have revered the noble virtue of the spirits.

There was also Yang Zheng, an investigating censor from Jishui:

The brothers rose to prominence one after another and upheld the Great Dao. In life they were enfeoffed as princes; after death they became spirits.

They traveled far to convey mysterious letters and spread the secrets of alchemy. Their outstanding achievements earned them renown at court.

They held high rank in the registers of immortals and received lavish honors and grants. The sacrifices on Ao Peak became more solemn, and the rites were renewed.

Incense smoke drifts beyond the dense shade of the banyan trees. Year after year, in spring and autumn, offerings are made to them.

There was also the eunuch Chai Shan, who was commissioned to travel as an envoy to Fusang and other lands:

I was ordered to lead the troops and pacify distant border regions. Above, I served my sovereign; below, I fulfilled my duties. Later, I remained at Sanshan. For a long time I have received the spirits’ responsive blessings. Now, reverently holding splendid banners, I praise their divine titles and pray for a safe journey to and from the Huai and Hai regions. I hope the spirits will look kindly upon this prayer and accept it; therefore I perform the rites with exceptional reverence. While staying at this fine sanctuary, I was moved to gather these poems and writings into a single work, praising the spirits’ virtue. May those who read these words in the future take this text as a model.

The lands of southern Fujian abound in strange and beautiful mountains, where celebrated landscapes like Dongting and Taihua meet and wind among one another.

The dwelling place of the true dragon gave rise to sacred signs; shimmering light and layered green fill the forests and peaks.

The true immortals appear and vanish unpredictably, quietly turning the workings of Heaven and widely bestowing the spirits’ grace.

Above, their numinous elixir protects the sovereign; below, their vast kindness shields the people from calamity.

I have heard that the two brothers were both filial and respectful, serving five generations of rulers with all their loyalty, surpassing many heroes.

In life they were celebrated ministers; after death they received offerings in the temple. Their acts of beneficence and miraculous response will be remembered without end.

The temple is majestic, unmatched in the world. The spirits dwell within, protecting the vast lands south of the Yangtze.

Five-colored clouds part to reveal Golden Turtle Mountain; Dragon Spring pours down and gathers into a clear pool.

At that time, commissioned as an envoy to distant lands, I came here with all sincerity and for a long time reverently honored the spirits’ sacred writings.

I saw quiet birds calling to one another across the moss, while petals glistened with moisture and wind swept through the ravines.

The strange fragrance here cannot be matched by the secluded beauties of Wuling or Fankou. On arriving, worldly cares vanished at once. Now the spirits are close at hand, appearing clearly before me.

They gained entry to the path of the immortals, where splendid banners stream in the wind. Above, a lofty and renowned peak rises to welcome its visitors.

At times, carriages and horses descend from the vast sky, while paired jade pendants ring out through the highest heavens.

Blue-black birds cry out, and celestial winds howl. Such a serene immortal realm is now difficult to find.

I offer a modest cup of wine with all sincerity, and hope that incense smoke will continue to rise from the burner, enduring as long as Heaven and Earth.

At times, carriages and horses descend from the vast sky, while paired jade pendants ring out through the highest heavens.

Blue-black birds cry out, and celestial winds howl. Such a serene immortal realm is now difficult to find.

I offer a modest cup of wine with all sincerity, and hope that incense smoke will continue to rise from the burner,

enduring as long as Heaven and Earth.

Spending the Night at Lingji Palace

Guo Jingfu of Baihu

Together we came to the immortal realm where the Perfected Ones dwell, and spent the night in a bamboo hut outside the quiet retreat for fasting. I awoke from a dream to the cold moonlight over a solitary island; the chill came upon me as though frost covered my whole body.

In the night, the divine turtle seemed to rise into the air; amid the sounds of autumn, auspicious cranes seemed to fly. I rose and put on my robe, unable to sleep again, and could only make out the fragrance of Heaven amid the deep, hazy scenery.

Twenty Poems on the Ten Extraordinary Peaks of the Treasure Hall

Golden Tortoise Peak

Guo Yi of Baihu

Golden Tortoise Peak seems to rise from the sea, gathering wondrous and numinous beauty. It coils like a blue dragon, yet also seems to soar upon colored clouds.

A palace built of cassia wood gleams with cinnabar light; immortal chambers where lingzhi grows faintly conceal the secrets of the immortals. I often see cranes returning in their carriages, while the fragrance of Heaven drifts among emerald clouds.

Another poem, by Li Shuyi of Longxi

A golden peak seems to emerge from the sea, gathering into a cinnabar chamber as it rises among the clouds and woods.

Immortals dwell here, occupying this place of gathered spiritual beauty, and allowing the pure, harmonious Daoist way to endure through the ages.

White Deer Peak

Guo Yi of Baihu

The famous mountain of White Deer Peak is green, seeming to rise in tier upon tier. The white deer went with the clouds; who knows when it will return?

Even today, the path beside the stream of tangled stones remains. One can still almost imagine its traces on the moss.

Another poem, by Li Shuyi of Longxi

An immortal deer passed through this place carrying a flower in its mouth, and so a temple was built among the cliffs and mountain hollows.

The green mountains endure, and the name of the white deer is still remembered. Monks in the forest often sing of it, smiling in admiration.

“Even today, the path beside the stream of tangled stones remains. One can still almost imagine its traces on the moss.”

Another poem, by Li Shuyi of Longxi

An immortal deer passed through this place carrying a flower in its mouth, and so a temple was built among the cliffs and mountain hollows.

The green mountains endure, and the name of the white deer is still remembered. Monks in the forest often sing of it, smiling in admiration.

Literary Brush Peak

Guo Yi of Baihu

This mountain towers into the sky, its slopes green and lush, its three peaks standing upright like blades. Emerald waterfalls pour into the Dragon Pool, seeming still to reflect the dark waters of the ink pool.

The clouds unfurl in response to the strokes of the brush, as if a battle formation were wheeling about; starlight rises, encircling the radiance amid the clouds. As the brush moves, wondrous inspiration appears. May these words be written down for ages and offered to a sage and enlightened ruler.

Another poem by Li Shuyi of Longxi:

The mountain stands alone, soaring high like a canopy of emerald green. Seen from afar, it could easily be mistaken for a scene painted in mist and rosy clouds.

The dream Li Bai, the Immortal Poet known as the Banished Immortal, left behind in the spring breeze has faded away. Now no one knows how many times flowers have bloomed atop the peak.

Lotus Peak, by Guo Yi of Baihu:

Looking south, Lotus Peak rises ten thousand fathoms high in autumn. Auspicious vapors drift above the clear Jade Well.

One can imagine that where fragrance wafts through the night, it rises to the twelve towers where the immortals of jade dwell.

Another poem by Li Shuyi of Longxi:

The immortal root from the Jade Well has been transplanted to the verdant mountain. It stands tall and graceful, rising straight into the clouds.

When true immortals come to gather the celestial herbs, they gaze from afar at this plant and seem to see the scene at the Jade Pool, as if in a drunken vision.

Flying Peng Peak, by Guo Yi of Baihu:

Flying Peng Peak is like a mountain beyond the immortal realm of Penglai, graceful and lofty, with celestial herbs growing all over its summit. It seems to have flown here from among the three sea mountains of the immortals—Penglai, Fangzhang, and Yingzhou—and joined these ten wondrous sights.

It is as if the sky has opened a white jade flask, its cinnabar-colored flame shining through the night. If I could truly meet an immortal, I would part the clouds and enter, seeking out that distant, mysterious realm.

Another poem by Li Shuyi of Longxi:

This peak seems to have flown here from the Sea of Yingzhou; who knows which immortal mountain it is? Beneath the clear sky, its summit resembles a lotus carved from jade, steep and beautiful.

Immortal visitors on their way to pay homage to the Celestial Worthy of Primordial Beginning are captivated by the secluded scenery. They often climb the cinnabar-colored ladder to seek the traces left by immortal cranes.

It is as if the sky has opened a white jade flask, its cinnabar-colored flame shining through the night. If I could truly meet an immortal, I would part the clouds and enter, seeking out that distant, mysterious realm.

Another poem by Li Shuyi of Longxi:

This peak seems to have flown here from the Sea of Yingzhou; who knows which immortal mountain it is? Beneath the clear sky, its summit resembles a lotus carved from jade, steep and beautiful.

Immortal visitors on their way to pay homage to the Celestial Worthy of Primordial Beginning are captivated by the secluded scenery. They often climb the cinnabar-colored ladder to seek the traces left by immortal cranes.

Greedy Wolf Peak, by Guo Yi of Baihu:

The peak’s clear radiance seems to come from the northern reaches of the Dipper, far beyond reach. Who knows when it rose as an emerald mountain and appeared in the human world?

Once Golden Turtle Mountain rises, it can still be seen shining back at it from afar, like some nameless mountain in the immortal realm of Penglai.

Another poem by Li Shuyi of Longxi:

The surrounding peaks gather like painted screens, their lofty summits piercing the blue sky.

At times, in the stillness of night, a red glow flashes on the peak, and a bright beam shoots straight through the stars of the Dipper.

Square Rock Peak, by Guo Yi of Baihu:

Square Rock stands alongside Mount Kongtong, wondrous and lovely, seeming almost within reach. From afar, it looks like a crouching black leopard reflected in the clear, emerald river.

An old man who gathers and eats lingzhi mushrooms lives on the mountain. Seated on a moss-covered rock, he sings aloud. Brush the dust from your robes, and you can keep company with the white clouds day after day.

The summit towers high into the sky, its force seeming almost to topple. A white crane flies past the path walked by immortals, where the ground is clean and moss-free.

Mountain winds blow the waterfall from the cliff. Its rushing sound spreads among the rocks, becoming thunder in the middle of the night.

Purple Terrace Peak — Guo Yi of Baihu

Green mountain walls and crimson cliffs stretch all the way to the high terrace. Spring is in full bloom; mountain mists drift and fade, while purple clouds gather into tier upon tier.

Who is it, beneath the moon before the terrace, playing a jade flute—a flute made of jade or adorned with it? Its sound seems to await the immortal of Turtle Peak, returning on a crane.

Another poem — Li Shuyi of Longxi

The purple clouds are so dense they seem impossible to sweep away. The lofty terrace rises abruptly, as if shaped by Heaven’s own craft.

The sound of jade pendants falls into the moonlight before the terrace. Perhaps an immortal, riding a white crane, has arrived here.

Ancient City Peak — Guo Yi of Baihu

Who knows how many households remain in the ancient city today? The mountains are silent, and little is left of the traces of former days. No worldly travelers’ footprints remain on the moss-covered path; mist veils the cliffs, hiding their austere hues. Wind passes through the pines, cassia trees, and pool; the moon rises above rocks entwined with vines. Do not listen to the crows calling at night: their cries stir memories of the past.

Another poem — Li Shuyi of Longxi

Between green mountain walls and crimson cliffs, the mountain path winds over rough ground, yet travelers still call this place “Ancient City.” The wind and springs send clear, resonant melodies day after day, but none sounds like the iron flute playing a melody of plum blossoms.

Taiping Peak — Guo Yi of Baihu

Light as radiant as the sun and moon descends in harmony from the highest heavens; songs among the clouds cross a thousand mountains and ten thousand valleys.

Who can join in singing along with this music of peace? Best to climb the hundred-foot bridge to Golden Ao.

Another poem — Li Shuyi of Longxi

The scene of peace is boundless; the mountain colors and scenery are all gathered in this renowned mountain sanctuary.

How delightful that immortals dwell here, bringing peace to this land. Even the plants on the shadowed cliffs are bathed in a generous, gentle grace.

Forty Poems from “Illustrations of the Eight Songs of the True Immortals”

The Immortal Palace of Turtle Peak — Guo Yi of Baihu

Divine blessings appear in this immortal realm. Heavenly fragrances swirl through the air, and immortals wear splendid robes. Flowers welcome two phoenixes of many colors, while the mountains encircle a golden Ao.

The palaces, adorned with cassia wood, soar into the clouds; the platforms of sacred fungi hang above the moonlight. Their wondrous workings embrace Heaven and Earth, while brush and ink pour forth like surging waves.

In the Jade Cavern are displayed the immortal elixirs taken at dawn; on the Jasper Terrace are the peaches offered by the Queen Mother of the West, the legendary female immortal. Look upon the lofty stone stele, engraved with an imperial edict of praise.

Another poem, by Li Pu of Diaotai

Golden Turtle Peak soars into the clouds. Look up: its ridges rise steeply, reaching a thousand fathoms into the sky. Since Heaven and Earth first divided Yin and Yang, no other peak has stood beside your mountain.

The August court built the Chongzhen Palace, whose halls and pavilions shine in one another’s light. Its wondrous workings reach through the nine heavens, and the emperor’s writings bring double blessings.

In the cloud-wreathed mountain forest, heavenly fragrance lies concealed. Wind and spring water mingle, sounding like immortal music. How might one draw in this clear, elegant fragrance and wash away the worldly nature stained by the calamities of mortal life?

Another poem, by Li Shuyi of Longxi

Peaks rise within the Daoist temple grounds, and Golden Turtle Peak settles among them, lending the mountains a vast and lofty aspect. Its numinous light shines together with the radiance of Heaven. Its wondrous workings reach through the nine heavens, and the emperor’s writings bring double blessings.

In the cloud-wreathed mountain forest, heavenly fragrance lies concealed. Wind and spring water mingle, sounding like immortal music. How might one draw in this clear, elegant fragrance and wash away the worldly nature stained by the calamities of mortal life?

Another poem, by Li Shuyi of Longxi

Peaks rise within the Daoist temple grounds, and Golden Turtle Peak encloses the lofty mountain land. Its numinous light shines together with the radiance of Heaven, and imperial praise arrives from the capital.

A crimson phoenix rests among the jade grasses; feather-shaped wine cups are offered beneath the blue, layered eaves. Far from the mortal world, auspicious energy flows without end, surpassing the immortal realm of Penglai.

Another poem, by Shao Yong of Qingmen

The lofty twin towers stand far from worldly turmoil. The air is filled with pure fragrance, and sunlight shimmers through the emerald forest. The sound of pendants comes from the distant summit of Golden Turtle Peak; music rises, and flocks of white cranes dance through the clouds.

The emperor’s brush brings the favor of the Son of Heaven. For generations, the family has enjoyed prominence and received exceptional honors. Gaze toward the Flower-and-Calyx Tower, where the blossoms and calyxes reflect one another: a thousand years of numinous light have nurtured an extraordinary fragrance.

Another poem, by Chen Tang of Changle

The Daoist palace is famed for its graceful scenery, and Golden Turtle Peak stands firm like a sturdy stone back. The age is peaceful, so matters of the spirits may be revealed; mountains encircle the place, lending it a lofty grandeur.

At night, shell-adorned immortal towers shimmer with light; in spring, immortal peaches blossom and enchant the eye. Since ancient times, outstanding people have arisen here, surpassing the ordinary; numinous light has nurtured an extraordinary fragrance.

Another poem, by Chen Tang of Changle

The Daoist palace is famed for its graceful scenery, and Golden Turtle Peak stands firm like a sturdy stone back. The age is peaceful, so matters of the spirits may be revealed; mountains encircle the place, lending it a lofty grandeur.

At night, the shell-adorned immortal towers shimmer with light; in spring, immortal peaches blossom and enchant the eye. Since ancient times, outstanding people have arisen here and received titles and rewards, earning the emperor’s praise.

The Flying Waterfall at Dragon Pool, by Guo Yi of Baihu

After days of heavy rain, the waters surge past the immortal peak, and swift currents sweep through the ancient Dragon Pool. At night, one hears the waters of two mountain streams rushing downward; by morning, they have joined to form a single brook.

At dusk, a scene like the Milky Way is reflected below, while distant sounds drift across the blue autumn sky. A crane roosting high above wakes from its dream; deep in the shadows, a mysterious rainbow seems to rise.

Sparse bell tones sound in the distance, making one wonder whether a white silk ribbon of a waterfall is floating in the air. As I listen to the pure tones at Ao Peak, a mountain shaped like a giant turtle, the moon shines upon the Puxu Tower, a pavilion in a Daoist temple where images are enshrined or rituals are held.

Another poem, by Li Shuyi of Longxi:

After a night of rain, the numinous pool sends torrents of water plunging down, like the Milky Way falling to earth. The sky clears after the rain, bright and pure as an ice mirror; the chill sound of water comes from deep within the luxuriant vines of Chinese creeper and dodder.

The pines stir and startle the crane from its dream; the stream winds around the bank, and a fisher’s song rings out. The moonlight at the stream’s head is startling. How many times has a True Immortal passed this way?

Another poem, by Li Pu of Diaotai:

The transformations of all things between Heaven and Earth seem to have been shaped by Heaven’s craft since the beginning of creation, winding and turning.

Numinous energy lies hidden within. The deep pool curves around the bank, where a fisher’s song rings out. The moonlight at the stream’s head is startling. How many times has a True Immortal passed this way?

Another poem, by Li Pu of Diaotai:

The deep pool is mysterious and profound; the vast, undifferentiated Milky Way seems to come from the edge of Heaven.

A waterfall hangs a thousand feet down like a rainbow, reaching up to the river of stars and down to the flowing river.

The cool reflection of the water lifts the spirit; the new moon carries a chill. The sound of water echoes through the sparse breeze, as though a True Immortal were drawing near.

By day, a Zhaijiao rite is held to pray for blessings and honor the gods. We admire the scene and recite poems. Who will wander here with me?

Another poem, by Shao Yong of Qingmen:

After the rain, the numinous pool is fresh and bright, stirring the spirit; a hundred-foot waterfall pours down like the River of Heaven.

The waterfall drops through the air, as though trailing a white silk woven from fine jade; in the moonlight, it seems like scattered jade ornaments.

The pool’s waters suddenly break into sound, making one stop and listen. Looking up, one is startled to see flocks of geese crossing the sky.

At dawn, I climb Golden Turtle Peak to gaze into the distance. The waters before me seem to spread into the blue waves around Penghu, the legendary island of immortals in the sea.

Another poem, by Chen Tang of Changle:

A thousand feet of icy water rushes down stone steps among the clouds, as though the jade vault of Heaven were breathing out a white rainbow.

The wondrous scene unfurls in winding courses, as if spreading the sage’s grace and washing the world clean of worldly grime.

Snow Clearing on Bamboo Cliff, by Yu Yi of Baihu:

Ten thousand bamboo stalks stand upright above the sheer cliffs. After the snow, the sky clears, and six-petaled flakes shine among the ice. The snow is pure and crystalline as salt from Wu; its slanting light falls across the Jiang family’s path.

This scene is fit for auspicious cranes to soar through. It is quiet and clear; even the divine crows seem hushed. The dust of the mundane world feels a whole heaven away, while emerald bamboo rises a thousand fathoms high, blocking the view.

In Ying, people were skilled at singing refined airs such as “White Snow.” The furnace where immortals refined elixirs had gone cold, and the cinnabar lay still. Yet now I have come beside the immortal realm where exalted perfected beings dwell, gazing up at scenery as lovely as flowering crabapple, and taking in its pure, fragrant beauty.

Another poem: Ji Pu of Diaotai

The barely visible Rock of Hidden Perfection is deep and still; accumulated snow seals off its secluded depths. The slender bamboo is too frozen to unfurl, and the mountains and forests have all lost their green.

The clear sunlight shines upon the bright snow. The cold wind on the first day of the twelfth month makes one realize just how bitter the weather is. Hexagonal snowflakes set against dark clouds bring delight; their whiteness also foretells an abundant, auspicious harvest in the coming year.

The twelve-storied pavilion where immortals dwell seems to face itself, like jade upon jade. Someone sings a “Song of Walking Through the Void,” a melody used in Daoist purification rituals to evoke immortals walking through the air. Its clear, ringing notes sound like jade objects striking one another.

Another poem: Li Shuyi of Longxi

The clouds before the cliff are about to disperse, and the snow beyond the bamboo grove has just melted away. Far-off whiteness lights the high terrace at dawn; a thin veil of snow hangs low over the woods, as though even emerald sleeves feel the chill.

The bright, translucent mica curtain is hazy and illusory; scenes like crystal dishes are scattered in layers. I feel keenly how slight my worldly ties are. I would like to sing in response alongside the immortals, but cannot manage it.

Another poem: Shao Yong of Qingming

The peaks gather the green of the sunlit day and rise straight into the clouds. The hexagonal snowflakes have fallen, yet have not fully melted. The white crane at rest is almost indistinguishable from the snow; the place where the azure phoenix dwells, too, seems to appear before my eyes.

Once the fu poems for Liangyuan have been written, how could they match those of the ancients? The refined airs of Ying are difficult to sing in response to. I imagine instead two perfected immortals returning at dawn, jade pendants at their sides; in the distant wind from heaven, cool jade tones mingle.

Another poem: Chen Tang of Changle

Bamboo leans against the numinous cliff, making the scenery especially lovely; in the cold, the auspicious snow clears. Cranes and phoenixes circle endlessly among the mountains, while spring water and rocks are exceptionally serene.

In a dream, my spirit roams as far as Sanxiang; my mind seems to wander amid a cascade of countless jades. The recluse walks on with a joyful smile, though the mountain path is too wet and slippery to pass easily.

Immortal Islet and Numinous Fungus

Guo Yi of Baihu, Xian

A mountain peak gathers auspicious clouds, while all the flowers yield their place to honor the immortals. Golden-stalked dew falls upon its leaves, and fragrance gathers as though it came from the stars of the Purple Palace, the celestial halls of Daoist lore.

The scene is bright and flourishing like the Han Pool, while the Shang Valley is naturally green as well. Its beauty is more than a match for the Three Flowers; it also carries the fragrance of nine fields of orchids.

Shimmering light floats upward to the moon palace, and layered green spreads like a screen of clouds. Would it allow the mountain recluse to gather it? If so, one could use it to extend the life of plants and trees.

Another poem: Li Pu of Diaotai

Long ago, when the True Palace—a Daoist shrine for honoring deities and holding rituals—was first established, auspicious numinous herbs sprang up, flourishing in radiant abundance. The Shang Valley was naturally green as well.

Floating radiance passes beyond the Moon Palace; layers of verdure open the barriers among the clouds. Might the mountain hermit be permitted to come and gather it? May it prolong the life of plants and trees.

Also, Li Pu of Diaotai:

Long ago, when this True Palace—a Daoist temple—was built, auspicious numinous herbs began to grow here. The nine-stemmed herb shone brightly, and three branches of Lingzhi gathered dew like blossoms.

The primal Qi of Heaven and Earth gave birth to the Qi of perfect harmony. Such a numinous root, the source of wondrous plants, is seldom seen in the world. It gleams brilliantly, displaying an auspicious sign; the radiance on the Immortal Isle, too, shines with splendor.

It is no less than the Lingzhi that grew in the gardens of the Han emperors, and even surpasses the plants gathered and eaten by the hermits of Shangshan. How many years have passed since this auspicious sign appeared? Even now, its fragrant name is still spoken. (Ten fine pieces of prose)

Also, Li Shuyi of Longxi:

The summit of the Immortal Mountain rises above the surrounding peaks; the Lingzhi’s bearing surpasses that of ordinary flowers and grasses. Its auspicious presence, brought here, outshines the beauty of Shangshan; its soul-stirring fragrance eclipses the scents of Han lands.

Its cloudlike leaves gather into purple in the spring, and its golden flowers hold the hint of yellow dew at dawn. Might you spare some Lingzhi for those in the dusty world to gather? From now on, I shall think lightly of the rich and sumptuous foods enjoyed by the wealthy.

Also, Shao Yong of Qingmen:

Mount Penglai stands far away on the edge of the blue sea; people say that Lingzhi grows there.

At night, floating radiance falls upon the cinnabar well; at dawn, an emerald breath moistens the Taiyi Pool, a pool associated with the deity Taiyi.

The Lingzhi on the Ao’s summit has endured the autumn dew, yet its fragrance remains strong. The hermits of Shangshan have finished their song, but the sun still lingers before setting.

How can I cast off the concerns of the dusty world and discover the secrets of cultivating the Dao? I must climb the Celestial Altar and ask my master for guidance.

Also, Chen Tang of Changle:

The earth is thick with purple-leaved Lingzhi. The immortals gather its numinous growth, taking even the roots hidden deep below.

I am ashamed to grow old here beneath Yingzhou, the legendary island in the sea. How could I be so fortunate as to share a name with the Four Eminent Elders, the four learned men who withdrew to Shangshan at the end of the Qin and the beginning of the Han?

Also, Guichaobaihu Guo Yi of Qingpu:

Far away, green sandbanks and trees line the waterside; the returning tide surges toward the white sea gate. The waters encircle a lovely island, as though affectionately, and refuse to leave at dawn or dusk.

The cool water reflects the image of vermilion clouds; in its chill, it seems to hold the soul of the moon. A thousand households receive the blessings of this ancient marsh, and a waterway flows from the source in the land of immortals.

I gaze into the distance: the water’s radiance winds like a white ribbon. After the poem is sung, it seems half the rosy glow has fallen. (Ten fine pieces from Guang) If I could wash away the concerns of the dusty world, I would climb to the Ao’s summit and pay my respects to Hong’en.

Also, Li Pu of Diaotai:

The tide at Qingpu has just ebbed, and evening rain drifts in from the river. The glimmering water is as clear as if washed clean; across ten thousand acres of water, not a trace of dust can be seen.

Patches of bulrushes and reeds grow thick beside the rocks, while wild ducks and egrets on the sandbar look about warily. A small boat lies across the water between the two banks, making the shore seem narrow; the road winds past a cluster of peaks, and the view suddenly opens wide.

This waterway is no trace of a channel carved by the Great Yu, yet the river naturally flows eastward and joins the current. A fisherman’s song rises over the Canglang waters, its melody circling the Immortal Terrace beneath the moonlit sky.

Another poem, by Li Shuyi of Longxi

I once walked and composed verses around Qingpu, where the tide spread across the water, then had already ebbed by dawn. A small boat lay moored across the stream, fragrant grasses bent low; the sandy bank stretched on to meet the great river in the distance.

Around the curved bank lay a deep, secluded pool; above the steep stone bridge, a lofty rainbow seemed to hang suspended. The immortal raft, said to travel between the human world and the realm of immortals, reaches the heavens from here. I have sailed it several times, rising straight into the clouds.

Another poem, by Shao Yong of Qingmen

The distant inlet is vast and hazy, though the sun has not yet set; a slender line of returning tide seems to know its source.

On a clear day, one can see the tracks left by egrets on the sand. As dusk falls, the tide washes over the moss, revealing marks on the stones.

The boat has just entered the clear river, yet the returning tide seems still to accompany it. To divert the river’s waters and lead them into the vast sea is, in the end, hard to put into words.

To admire the river, one must climb to the summit of Aofeng. Where, exactly, does the river flow into the sea? Is that the Yu Gate of the Great Yu’s flood-control legend?

Another poem, by Chen Tang of Changle

A traveler reaches the area near Qingpu, where clouds seem to guide the receding tide, its current stretching on without end. Strange trees overhang the embankment, and carefree gulls stand on the shallows.

The nets are hauled in, and the fishing party ends its angling; a small boat lowers its sail and comes to rest, leaning across the water. I stand for a long while, waiting to see the full □; surely one should ride the Bowang Raft, the legendary raft said to lead to the Celestial River.

A passerby at Nantang, Guo Yi of Baihu

The road through Nantang stretches far away, winding and turning as it leads toward the distant tide. Strange trees overhang the embankment, and carefree gulls stand on the shallows.

The nets are hauled in, and the fishing party ends its angling; a small boat lowers its sail and comes to rest, leaning across the water. I stand for a long while, waiting to see the full □; surely one should ride the Bowang Raft, the legendary raft said to lead to the Celestial River.

A passerby at Nantang, Guo Yi of Baihu

The road through Nantang stretches far away and twists through the hills, leading to the Taiyi Palace, a shrine dedicated to the deity Taiyi. The mountains crowd together in confusion, stretching beyond sight; the thoughts of a traveler, too, have no end.

My homeland lies beyond the floating clouds, while passes, mountains, and rivers are veiled in the evening sun. Clad in marten fur, I encounter Jizi; facing the horse’s head, I gaze toward Lord Liang.

Like a wild goose adrift before the frost, I have no settled home; like seaweed tossed on the waves, I am restless and alarmed. From here, a road to success and ease opens before me. Who would still ask why I drift east and west, weeping in sorrow?

Another poem, by Li Pu of Diaotai

Minzhou is rich in the resources of its mountains and seas, and merchants hasten back and forth in competition. They bustle about, driven only by greed for profit and status, coming and going along the banks of Nantang.

Drifting like a broken reed stem, I cannot help recalling the traces of days gone by. Like duckweed carried along by the water, I fear that those I have just met will soon become new farewells. The sun sets in the west; in the distance, cooking smoke rises above the houses. A cold wind stirs the white hair at my temples.

My thoughts dwell on my distant hometown. Facing the lone cloud by myself, I feel the pain of parting deepen. Time in the gourd—the grotto-heaven where immortals dwell in Daoist legend—flows long and unhurried. I imagine the immortals laughing at how those in the dusty world are so blindly absorbed in their restless pursuits.

Another poem, by Li Shuyi of Longxi.

In southern Fujian, the post stations follow one after another. To make it safely through the treacherous stretches, I have no choice but to travel with care. A lean horse struggles forward in the chill, while a light carriage carries its traveler onward beneath the moon.

Longing for home drifts without anchor, like duckweed and broken stems. The traveler’s tears reflect the sea and sky, heavy with sorrow. I imagine the immortals living freely and joyfully; alas, people in the dusty world remain spellbound by the long years.

Another poem, by Li Shuyi of Longxi.

In southern Fujian, the post stations follow one after another. To make it safely through the treacherous stretches, I have no choice but to travel with care. A lean horse struggles forward in the chill, while a light carriage carries its traveler onward beneath the moon.

Longing for home drifts without anchor, like duckweed and broken stems. The traveler’s tears reflect the sea and sky, heavy with sorrow. I imagine the immortals living freely and joyfully; alas, people in the dusty world remain spellbound by the long years.

Another poem, by Shao Yong of Qingmen.

Travel’s sorrows linger over South Pond, where the waters in the open country lie deep. Willows wreathed in mist trail their branches, casting dense green shade.

Among my friends and kin back home, who is still well? Walking the road away from home, with orioles calling and flowers in bloom, even singing to myself grows tiresome.

The wild geese bring no news. My heart hangs on home beneath the moon over Qingpu. I look up to the sky and can only watch the white clouds drift toward distant peaks.

I stop my carriage, wishing to visit the immortal realm where the perfected beings dwell. To hear their teachings would be worth ten thousand gold pieces.

Another poem, by Chen Tang of Changle.

Carriages and horses come and go in a stream; a road from South Pond leads into the green mountains.

Fragrant plants in the mountains are there for the picking, and fish for the catching. Why toil so ceaselessly? Why not take a little leisure?

“Wood Ridge: Woodcutters’ Song,” by Guo Yi of White Lake.

Wood Ridge stretches between the mountains, and the mountain wind brushes my grass-cloth coat. Passing through places veiled in cloud and mist, I chant as I gather clouds; only deep into the night do I sing my way home.

The evening bell at the country temple has just fallen silent, and half the village houses have already shut their doors. A few sounds of autumn reach me faintly through the stillness, while a song accompanies the hazy moonlight.

Who knows that Wang Zhi once came here? The mountains are empty and still, and few have heard the song. Crossing above the summit of Ao, an old crane pays homage to the quiet, mysterious workings of Heaven.

Another poem, by Li Pu of Diaotai.

The western ridge lies under a chill, and Wood Ridge emerges in the evening shadows. In several places, woodcutters return in groups, their long songs carrying a desolate note.

The sound of oars shakes the woods, and fallen leaves swirl among a thousand mountains and ridges. At first I think an oriole is calling; then I wonder if clear-voiced gibbons are answering its cry.

Various quiet sounds drift from the mountain streams, and the white clouds accord with my simple, unadorned state of mind. A voice like celestial music floats and carries on the breeze, as though coming from the southern ridge beneath the bright moon.

Another version: Li Shuyi of Longxi

At dawn, the wooded ridge looks exceptionally clear and bright. A woodcutter’s song passes through the verdant forest. Mountain mist veils the slopes faintly as dusk deepens, while clouds and fog churn in the depths of the ravine.

In a trance, I seem to hear gibbons crying by the stream; then it is as though mountain wood spirits—creatures of legend—are singing. Heard near the Daoist palace, these sounds mingle in the distance with the buxu chants, the ritual songs Daoist priests intone in worship of the gods.

Another version: Shao Yong of Qingmen

The towering wooded ridge stands above the dusty world. The woodcutter climbs on and on, never weary.

Immersed in my reading, I am often startled to find that evening has fallen over the mountains. When I raise my voice in song, I am always glad to see the moonlight, fresh and clear.

A few notes of song startle the immortal cranes perched in the pines. When the song ends, it urges the herb gatherer to return home.

At dusk, the singing from Ao Peak gradually draws near. In a trance, it seems that immortals’ jade pendants are chiming as they descend from the edge of the Celestial River.

Another version: Dong Tang of Changle

The woodcutter’s song winds and carries on the breeze, startling the immortal cranes perched in the pines. When the song ends, it urges the herb gatherer to return home.

At dusk, the singing from Ao Peak gradually draws near. In a trance, it seems that immortals’ jade pendants are chiming as they descend from the edge of the Celestial River.

Another version: Dong Tang of Changle

The woodcutter’s song winds and carries on the breeze, lending the wooded ridge a deep and tranquil air. Accompanied by flowing water, the song sends the sunlight away; it passes through curling clouds and comes from the distant woods.

The song stirs the cranes in their nests and makes the dragons in their caves cry out. I take up the tune “Canglang” in the song’s lingering echo. Those who hear it feel their spirits rise, and even seem to straighten their robes.

The Wild Goose Pagoda on Zhong Mountain, Guo Yi of Baihu

A solitary peak emerges amid the mingled hues of purple and green, crowned by a richly adorned seven-tiered pagoda. The tower rises so high it seems to approach the dragon-heaven, where the celestial dragon deities protect the Buddhist teachings; in the distance, it connects with the slanting path of the Dark Bird, the legendary skyway traversed by the sun and moon.

Inscriptions cover the pagoda in every direction; the kalpas they recount are as countless as the sands of the Ganges. The pagoda’s shadow falls into the Vimalakirti chamber, while its fragrance reaches the abode of Taiyi, the Daoist palace.

At night, lamplight shines upon the wondrous qi trees; at dawn, as I sit in meditation, it seems that udumbara blossoms drift down. I cherish the sages of old, whose honored names shine like fragrance upon the blue curtains.

Another version: Li Pu of Diaotai

Zhong Mountain guards this tranquil blessed place, rising on the bank of the clear river. The Buddhist pagoda leans against the lofty summit, its seven tiers reaching into the clouds.

The pagoda’s lofty spire rises above the dusty world, as though higher than the realm of sands—the countless worlds of Buddhist teaching. Its splendid architecture stands far from worldly concerns. Talented and eminent people come in its company to inscribe their names, as though immortals with jade pendants and flocks of cranes had descended.

For a long time I have cherished the wish to reach the purple-cloud realm of immortals, and have hoped to spread the fragrant beneficence of the divine. Yet I have not climbed the vermilion stairs leading to the immortal realm; from dawn to dusk, I can only gaze up in reverence and longing.

Another version: Li Shuyi of Longxi

Zhong Mountain encircles this precious blessed place, and the Wild Goose Pagoda stands against its lofty summit. Lamplight reflects beyond the autumn clouds, while the pagoda bells ring from the edge of the setting sun.

The pagoda bears the honored names of gifted people. Solemn, graceful Buddhist chants gather there, seeming to reach the celestial dragon deities. I have often wished to come here for quiet contemplation, yet I do not know when I will be free of the world’s entanglements.

I also record a poem by Shao Yong of Qingmen:

The precious pagoda in the famed mountain stands far from the world of dust. Its noble reputation is inscribed among men of talent, while pure Buddhist chants gather and seem to reach the ears of the Dragon Kings and celestial guardians. Again and again I have longed to come and admire this tranquil scene, yet I know not when I shall be free of worldly entanglements.

I also record a poem by Shao Yong of Qingmen:

The pagoda in the famed mountain stands far from worldly turmoil, gazing into the distance at the True Officials and the white clouds among the hills. A hundred blended fragrances burn in the censer, their scent borne afar on the wind; the bells and chimes of the Nine Heavens ring out as night is just falling.

Buddhist chants drift from within the latticed windows, and all around is still. Names are entered in the register of successful candidates, and their fame spreads throughout the land. I would climb high to gaze into the distance, my thoughts full of longing, when suddenly I hear the plaintive cry of geese, their flock scattering as they depart.

I also record a poem by Chen Tang of Changle:

The seven-storied pagoda shines with bright colors, newly radiant; Zhong Mountain rises green and upright, its slopes steep and rugged. Since ancient times, those whose names have been inscribed here have mostly been people of exceptional talent. Their renown inspires the reverence of later generations and spurs those who follow to strive for distinction.