DR. HART'S translations are too free to be representative of the Chinese poems -- there is hardly any close resemblance between the originals and his renditions in most cases. To illustrate: "The Loyal Wife's Song" of Chang Chi on page 86, which was the poet's letter to governor-general Li Shih Tao in the form of a loyal wife's song refusing his improper invitation to office, was translated by Dr. Hart as follows:

"Pearls!

Twin pearls,

Bright gems of ocean,

To me, a married woman,

You have sent!

Yet you know I have a husband

In attendance, in the palace,

On the Lord of Light, the emperor --

May he live ten thousand years!

But the thought that prompted you

I cherish

In my bosom with the jewels,

There they've lain hidden till this hour,

In the soft, enfolding silk,

I know -- you need not tell me --

That your thoughts are pure as moonlight,

Or as the glowing sun at midday Overhead.

My home lies noble in its gardens.

There the marriage oath I've taken,

And I ever shall be faithful,

Even past the gates of death.

So!

The twin pearls are in this letter.

I send them back to you in sadness

With a sigh.

If you look closely, you'll find with them

Two other twin gems lying.

Twin tears fallen from my eyelids,

Telling of a breaking heart.

Alas, that perverse life so willed it

That we met too late, after I had crossed my husband's threshold

On that fateful wedding day!"

The original poem has only sixty-two words in two aaba quatrains and a concluding couplet. It may be translated without rhyme thus:

You know I have a husband,

And you gave me a twin of pearls;

Deeply I felt your wilting love

And I strung them upon my red silk dress.

Close to the palaces soars my towering home.

And in the emperor's attendance is my husband.

Of course I know your heart, bright as the sun and moon;

But with my husband I have vowed to live till death.

With tears brimming down I return your pearls,

While grieving that we did not meet when I was not

Yet married.

After all Chinese poetry and English poetry are not as far apart as many people think and it is quite possible to turn the one in to the other in its true light with very little loss of form, or, perhaps, with no loss at all.

Dr. Hart changed the titles of quite a few poems. This seems to me unnecessary. However, the changed titles of the poems are not as fantastic and misleading as the title of the book, "The Hundred Names." There is no connection whatsoever between this anthology and the hundred surnames of the Chinese people. Well, not every one of us is a Goldsmith who could fish out perfect and beautiful titles for whatever he wrote!

In his introductory essays on the spirit, the history, and the technique of Chinese poetry, Dr. Bart committed himself to several errors. Just to point out two: Chu Yuan is not "one of the shadowy personalities that appear often, in the annals of Chinese literature" and his poem Li Sao is not "a rambling poem which seldom makes a strong appeal to the foreign reader." He is the greatest of all Chinese poets by universal consent. Indeed so great is he that he needs not our "weak witness" of his name though very uncertain do we feel about his life and birth. And his poem Li Sao, the Exile's Grief, stands with the Riad, the Divine Comedy, the Paradise Lost, etc., in spite of its shortness in length. Chinese poetry, like any other poetry, is written primarily for the ear, not for the eye.

His choice of women poets, too might be taken exception to. I wonder why Dr. Hart did not choose l'an Chch I. Past Pau, and Li Ching Chao.