In the Eighteenth Song, one of the distinctive devices of Japanese poetry, the "Preface" and euphonic “Introductory-word" appear. In the English rendering the word "gathered" reproduces, approximately, this device. The first two lines of the stanza are to be regarded as purely introductory. The theme is “Secret Love." Lo! the gathered waves On the shores of Sumi's bay! When in dreams I go to thee, I must shun the eyes of men. The solicitude of a woman about the safety of a man. who had deserted her, showing thereby the self-effacement that love at times effects, is well expressed in the Thirtyeighth tanka. The lover had sworn to the gods that he would never desert his mistress. The wronged woman, therefore, feared that the gods might execute vengeance. Though forgotten now, For myself I do not care;— He, by oath, was pledged; And his life that is forsworn, Such a thing of pity is! "Unconfessed Love" that betrays itself is the theme of the Fortieth Song: Though I would conceal, In my face it yet appears, My fond, secret love; So much that he asks of me "Does not something trouble you?" "Love Perplexed" is pictured in the Forty-sixth Song under the simile of a mariner at sea with rudder lost. Like a mariner Sailing over Yura's strait Whither o'er the deep of love Lies the goal, I do not know. The recklessness that accompanies pursuit in love, and the longing for continued life that comes with successful possession, are thus shown in the Fiftieth Song: For thy precious sake Once my eager life itself Was not dear to me. But, 'tis now my heart's desire, It may long, long years endure. Fearfulness concerning the future faithfulness of a lover just pledged, is told in these anxious verses of Song Fifty-four," A Woman's Judgment; lf, "not to forget" Will for you in future years Be too difficult, It were well this very day That my life,-ah me !-should close. Distrust of one who has a reputation for insincerity and unfaithfulness finds place in tanka Seventy-two, under the guise of dread of the waves of the beach of Takashi. Well I know the fame Of the fickle waves that beat On Takashi's strand. Should I e'er go near that shore I should only wet my sleeves. Struggle to conceal a love that may not be shown to the one beloved, is admirably exhibited in the Eighty-ninth tanka, in an apostrope to self. The poet wrote: Life! Thou string of gems! If thou art to end, break now; For, if yet I live, All I do to hide my love, May at last grow weak and fail. These are but a few of the many songs of which Love, in some of its phases, is the theme. I shall quote only one more of them. It is the one written by the compiler of this anthology, the Hyakunin-isshu, the poet Teikakyo, or Sadaie. It is a vivid picture of a common scene on Awaji island, used in simile here to show the poet-lover's impa tience in waiting: Like the salt sea-weed Burning in the evening calm On Matsuo's shore, All my being is aglow Waiting one who does not comes. Here the introduction to this "Century of Song" may end and the way among the songs themselves be entered. No one knows better than the present writer, the difficulties one meets with in making the venture here made, or how unsatisfactory the results gained. The full charm of these dainty bits of verse will forever elude the quest of one who, foreign to the Japanese people and their language, seeks to discover it, and to show it to the world. But I have done faithful service in my search, and I hope that some measure of attainment has been secured. NOTE.-"Introduction" to Translation of the Hyakunin-isshu (Single Songs of a Hundred Poets) Vol. XXVII: Part IV., Transactions of the Asiatic Society of Japan. December, 1899. IV. I-RO-HA HYMN. I have long been interested in the fact—or is it tradition merely? that Kukai, the wonder of Buddhist sainthood and scholarship of twelve hundred years ago, not only invented the popular script of Japan, the Hiragana syllabary, but, also, so arranged the syllables that they may be read as a profoundly interpretative Buddhist poem. Every Japanese child in learning his alphabet may, therefore, be taught to repeat it as a poem in which the conviction fundamental in Buddhism is graphically concentrated. Kūkai, who, two hundred years after his death received from the Emperor Daigo recognition for his marvellous work by being given the title Kōbō Daishi, or "Great Teacher who spread the Law abroad," placed. the fortyseven syllables of the Japanese language in a melodic order, beginning,— I, ro, ha, ni, ho, he, to, chi, ri, nu, ru, wo,-and so on, in succession to the end,-se, su. Like A, B, C, D, E, F, G, etc., for the English, these syllables soon became fixed for the Japanese people as their alphabet. By very slight and legitimate linguistic changes in their reading, Kōbō transformed this syllabary into a poem of eight lines, composed of standard seven and five syllabled verses in alternation, as follows:- Iro wa nioedo Chirinuru wo— Waga yo tare zo Tsune naramu. Ui no oku-yama Read in this form, the pessimism that may lead one to seek "the enlightenment which came through Buddha" is offered to all who read, and thereby becomes a perpetual lesson to every child in Japan. I cannot render into English verse a wholly exact translation of the original Japanese, but I have amused myself with putting into the original meter, in English, what is almost a literal reproduction of Kōbō's thought: E'en though clothed in colors gay Blossoms fall, alas! Who then in this world of ours Will not likewise pass? Crossing now the utmost verge Of a world that seems, Fade my fleeting dreams. But this skilfully wrought alphabetic versification by Kūkai, preparing, as it does, a whole people for an offered "gospel," is repeated here only to introduce a yet more interesting piece of kindred verse-making. Several years ago my interest in this syllabary poe:n was much heightened by my coming across some verses, or rather a hymn, said to have been written about three hundred years before, by a noted priest named Kwai Han. The hymn stood under the title Nori no Hatsu-Ne, which may be translated,-"The Dominant Note of the Law." I found the hymn to be not only a profound and impressive series of religious meditations by a learned Buddhist, but also an entertaining literary curiosity. It is an acrostic of forty-seven verses having this peculiarity, that each verse begins with one of the Japanese syllables in the regular successsion of Kōbō Daishi's alphabet. Kwai Han, it is said, wrote, substantially, the following note in connection with his acrostic hymn:-As Kōbō Daishi composed the I-ro-ha that he might clearly teach the essential law of Buddha to the Japanese people, so will I, in honor of my spiritual ancestor, take these same I-ro-ha characters and make them the initials of the separate lines of a hymn which will carry forward the same pious object. It is impossible, of course, to render the hymn, in its acrostic form, into equivalent English, but I have attempted to give it, metrically, an equivalent English reproduction, with close adherence to its Japanese phrasing. Little annotation is needed for an understanding of the poem by English readers. It will help, however, for these readers to remember that in Buddhist mythology there are six possible transmigrations which the human being can make before he passess into the realm of those who are "saved." "The River of Three Paths " is a Buddhist analogue of the river Styx of Roman mythology. "Namu Amida Buddha" is an invocation peculiar to the Buddhist sects whose followers rely upon the merits of the all merciful deity, Buddha Amida, for their release from the evils of existence. In the hymn it is called "The Prayer." The essential factors in Buddhism through which "The Way of Salvation" is secured are included in the terms, "Rite, Priesthool and Buddha." And "The Land of |