The Pei Mên; metaphorical and narrative. An officer of Wei sets forth, rather jestingly, his hard lot, and his silence under it in submission to Heaven.

1My way leads forth by the gate on the north;
  My heart is full of woe.
I hav’n’t a cent, begged, stolen, or lent,
  And friends forget me so.
So let it be! ‘tis Heaven's decree.
What can I say,—a poor fellow like me?

2The king has his throne, sans sorrow or moan;
  On me fall all his cares,
And when I come home, resolved not to roam,
  Each one indignant stares.
So let it be! ‘tis Heaven's decree.
What can I say,—a poor fellow like me?

3Each thing of the king, and the fate of the state,
  On me come more and more.
And when, sad and worn, I come back forlorn,
  They thrust me from the door.
So let it be! ‘tis Heaven's decree.
What can I say,—a poor fellow like me?