國清百錄 4.17

4.17

蓋聞乾元資始三辰著象于天，坤道資生萬物動形于地，皇王於是建國，賢聖所以垂文，起名教而莫同，制威儀而有別。至如畫卦觀爻蓋取隨時之象，綜經織緯會通為政之辭，大禮同和大樂同節，安上治民移風易俗，斯迺生前之事略矣。可言死後問知仲尼弗語，縱使絳雪縈空玄霜拂樹，餌金丹而九轉、吞玉髓而千年，乘雲也駕九色之玄龍，游漢焉控三山之素鵠，逍遙瑀臺之上、容與琳闕之間，未窺解脫之門，終趣蓋纏之境。唯正覺淵冲真如妙有，不生不滅無相無言，隨緣應質則假色成形，隨類觀音則因聲示說，故有白銀千尺之體、紫金丈六之身，八部般若之文、四種悉檀之義，神通自在慧力無窮，因導化行開示悟入，歸依者盡發菩提，迴向焉普登常樂。是以獼猴建塔遂生忉利之天，野雁㘅華復往彌陀之國，豈直日藏沙門孤游正道，月光童子獨見如來。四生因茲度脫，六道藉此昭蘇，實火宅之高車，昏河之大筏。若乃周室昭王之世影奪恒星，漢朝明帝之時光夢如日，使旋西寓化漸東都，置像南宮申心北面。自摩騰入洛、羅什游秦，名教更弘道風斯熾，經臺像閣寶塔香山，麗溢巖阿綺盈都邑。豈期後魏真君之歲、後周建德之年，靈廟一除伽藍再滅，形容廢毀文字散遺，響落瓊鍾聲沈寶鐸。修禪耆舊卷其舌而不談，護戒先賢改其形而晦影，世絕調心之路，時虧汲引之途，無出世之津梁，失生民之大望。我大隋皇帝，乘乾御宇握鏡披圖，父愛蒼生君臨赤縣，天地同其大德、日月合其重光、鼓之以雷霆、潤之以風雨，除暴亂致太平，張四維朝萬國，功成作樂治定制禮，正道無為區寰有截，闢泥洹之路、開般若之門，宣十二分之經、流四千年之法，精勤耆舊又捨俗歸僧，淨住初童持心秉戒，非直法輪再轉法鼓還鳴，四海於是無虞、兆民同而有賴。委羽乘毛之國慕風化以來，庭靈禽嘉貺之祥應圖書而萃苑，巍巍也非境智之思量，蕩蕩乎豈言談而能盡。玉泉寺者，基此山焉，智顗禪師之卜居也，勅旨正名，著額其山。嵬崿嵯峨崎嶇崱嶷，峯疑偃蓋巒似覆船，巨力窮奇之象、洪崖譎詭之形，崗曲抱而成垣、水縈迴而結乳，青楓動葉遠照金霞、翠柳搖枝低臨玉沼，猨吟白雲之上、鸎啼碧樹之間，日月為之蔽虧、霄液由之散聚，前瞻江路却望荊岑、左帶昭丘右通巴峽。禪師本姓陳氏，頴川人也。少稟生知，童真剃落，從師南嶽，蘊道天台。睿智洪才之響非直播於江南，知機妙辯之聲固亦聞於河朔。皇帝外子太尉公晉王，性稟孝慈情包隱惻，能臣能子匡國匡家，蘊機神之智、垂汎愛之心，布君子之風、偃生民之草，往以偽陳納叛受律，行師策妙指，縱威稜江海，遂剋定金陵、化平銅柱，三吳霧卷、百越塵清。師乃因王利涉，王遂因師受戒，師至此而頭陀，王奏聞而起寺。於是異域才情之客慕其道而雲臻，他鄉鍊行之僧味其風而雨集。師乃精言導理盡意談玄，語證禪支心開定本，幽宗博義若挹海而無窮，辯句清辭似懸河而自瀉。居朋之友雖盈量而爭歸，處少之徒從窮崖而莫反。爾乃信心檀越積善通人，咸施一材俱投一瓦，憑茲眾力事若神功，營之不日而成飾矣。經時而就，層臺逈閣複殿連房，寒暑異形陰陽殊制，雕簷繡栱與危岫而爭高、鑿礎鐫基共磐巖而等固，風光出其戶牖、雲霧生其棟梁，華炫耀於金盤、氣芬芳於玉樹，工圖相好湛若金山、匠寫真容凝如滿月。殿起三層之柱，懸於自響之鐘；堂開千葉之華，蓮捧飛來之座。燈光不滅灌海踰明，剎柱俱低承幡自舉，吉祥柔滑之草爛熳依庭，逆風和氣之香氛氳滿院。斜通洞穴直注凝泉，色似瑠璃味同甘露，波投鼐鼎浪瀉階堂，飲腹消痾澆軀愈疾。石柱銅樑之狀影入蓮池，桃源菊浦之華香浮奈苑，可謂山類耆闍、寺同離越，似龍宮而出現、疑鹿野以飛來。竊以前王鑿鼎唯論體國之功，今共刊碑永記菩提之道。余任宰屬城寺居山部，文雖寫意，書不盡言。其詞曰：

I have heard that the Qian origin provides the inception, and the three luminaries manifest their forms in Heaven; the Kun way provides nourishment, and the myriad things stir their forms upon Earth. Thereupon august monarchs established states, and sages and worthies bequeathed their writings. They instituted the teaching of names without uniformity, and devised deportment with distinctions. As for delineating the hexagrams and contemplating the lines, they merely took the signs appropriate to the times; gathering the warp and weaving the weft, they brought together words for government. Great ritual shares harmony, and great music shares rhythm, comforting superiors and governing the people, transforming customs and mores—these are merely the bare outlines of affairs in life. What can be said of after death? When questioned, Confucius did not speak of it. Even if crimson snow swirls in the sky and dark frost brushes the trees; even if one ingests the golden elixir through nine transmutations or swallows jade marrow for a thousand years; mounting the clouds, one may ride a nine-colored dark dragon; roaming the Milky Way, one may rein in the white cranes of the Three Mountains; strolling leisurely upon agate terraces or dallying among jade palace gates—yet one has not glimpsed the gate of liberation, and ultimately drifts toward the realm of afflictions and bondages.
Only the Rightly Awakened One is profound and tranquil, the wondrous reality of true suchness: unarising and unceasing, formless and wordless. Responding to dispositions according to conditions, he borrows physical colors to fashion a form; perceiving voices according to kinds, he manifests discourses based on sounds. Therefore, there are bodies of white silver a thousand feet tall, forms of purple-gold sixteen feet high, the texts of the eight divisions of Prajñā, and the meanings of the four types of siddhānta. His spiritual powers are unimpeded, his power of wisdom boundless. Guiding and transforming, he opens, reveals, awakens, and causes entry; those who take refuge all give rise to bodhi, and those who dedicate merit universally ascend to constant bliss. Thus, a monkey building a stūpa was born into Trāyastriṃśa Heaven; a wild goose holding a flower went to the realm of Amitābha. How could it merely be that the Sūryagarbha monk wandered alone upon the correct path, or that Candraprabha Kumāra alone beheld the Tathāgata? The four types of birth are thereby liberated, and the six destinies rely on this to be revived; it is truly the grand carriage from the burning house, the great raft across the murky river.
As for King Zhao's reign in the Zhou house, a shadow surpassed the fixed stars; in Emperor Ming's time under the Han dynasty, a luminous dream was like the sun. Envoys returned from the Western regions, and the transformation gradually spread to the Eastern Capital; an image was placed in the Southern Palace, expressing devotion facing north. From the time Mātaṅga entered Luoyang and Kumārajīva traveled to Qin, the teaching of names was further expanded, and the wind of the Way flourished. Sūtra terraces, image pavilions, precious stūpas, and fragrance mountains—their splendors spilled over mountain recesses, their beauty filled capitals and towns.
Who would have anticipated that in the Zhenjun years of the Later Wei and the Jiande years of the Northern Zhou, sacred shrines were once eradicated and saṅghārāmas twice destroyed? Images and figures were ruined and discarded, writings and texts dispersed and lost; sounds faded from the jade chimes, and notes sank from the precious bells. Senior figures cultivating dhyāna rolled up their tongues and spoke not; former worthies protecting the precepts changed their appearance and hid their traces. The world lacked the path of regulating the mind; the era lacked the way of guiding and saving. There was no ford or bridge to leave the world; the great hopes of the living beings were lost.
Our Emperor of the Great Sui, mounting Heaven and governing the realm, grasping the mirror and unfurling the charts, loves the multitudes as a father and reigns over China as a sovereign. Heaven and Earth share his great virtue, and the sun and moon join his repeating light. He stirs them with thunder and lightning, and moistens them with wind and rain. Ridding of violent disorder, he brought about supreme peace; stretching the four cardinal ropes, he held court for the ten thousand states. When his merits were accomplished, he made music; when governance was settled, he instituted rituals. The correct Way is non-action, and the realm has boundaries. He opened the road to nirvāṇa and unlocked the gate of prajñā; he propagated the twelvefold division of sūtras and disseminated the Dharma of four thousand years. Diligent elders once again abandoned secular life to return to the saṅgha; pure-dwelling novices held their minds and upheld the precepts. Not only did the wheel of the Dharma turn anew and the drum of the Dharma sound again, but within the four seas there were no anxieties, and the myriad millions jointly found reliance. Kingdoms wearing feathers and clad in skins, admiring his transformative wind, came to pay court; the auspicious omens of sacred fowl and felicitous gifts, answering to charts and books, gathered in the imperial park. How majestic—it cannot be measured by ordinary cognition and wisdom! How boundless—how could it ever be exhausted by speech and discourse?
Yuquan Monastery was founded on this mountain; it was the chosen dwelling of Dhyāna Master Zhiyi. By imperial decree, the official name was given and inscribed on the mountain's plaque. The peaks are towering and craggy, rugged and precipitous; some summits seem like tilted umbrellas, and ridges resemble overturned boats. There are forms like the monstrous giant strength of the Qiongqi beast, and shapes perilous and deceitful like vast cliffs. The winding ridges embrace to form a rampart; the swirling waters meander and produce stalactites. Green maples stir their leaves, reflecting distant golden clouds; emerald willows sway their branches, drooping over the jade pond. Apes chant above the white clouds; orioles chirp among the azure trees. The sun and moon are eclipsed and sheltered by them; mist and vapor disperse and gather through them. In front, it looks out upon the river roads; behind, it gazes toward the peaks of Jing; to the left, it is girdled by the mounds of Zhao; to the right, it connects to the gorges of Ba.
The Master's original surname was Chen, and he was a man of Yingchuan. Endowed from youth with innate knowledge, he shaved his head while still a child. He followed his master on the Southern Peak, and accumulated the Way on Tiantai. The resonance of his sagacious wisdom and vast talent was not merely broadcast south of the Yangtze; the renown of his knowledge of springs and subtle debate was certainly heard north of the Yellow River as well. His Majesty's son-in-law, Grand Defender the Prince of Jin, was by nature endowed with filial piety and compassion, his feelings encompassing sympathy and care. Able as an official and able as a son, he rectified the state and stabilized the household. Harboring the wisdom of spiritual insight, he bestowed an all-embracing love; spreading the wind of a gentleman, he bent the grass of the common people. Formerly, when the false Chen dynasty harbored rebels, he received the military commission, led the forces, plotted wonderful directions, and let loose his majestic terror across rivers and seas; thereupon he pacified Jinling and quelled the Bronze Pillars. Over the Three Wu regions, the mists rolled away; across the Hundred Yue, the dust was settled.
The Master, reliant on the Prince, had smooth passage; the Prince, thereupon reliant on the Master, received the precepts. When the Master arrived here, he practiced dhūta; the Prince memorialized the throne and erected this monastery. Thereupon men of talent and passion from foreign domains, admiring his Way, arrived like clouds; monks of refined practice from other lands, relishing his manners, gathered like rain. The Master then spoke with precise words to guide to the principle, exhaustively discoursing on the profound; his speech verified the limbs of dhyāna, his mind opened the root of samādhi. His mysterious tenets and broad meanings were inexhaustible like dipping into the sea; his eloquent phrases and pure expressions poured forth like a cascading river. Although companions residing in fellowship exceeded measure and vied to take refuge, disciples dwelling in solitude never returned from the precipitous cliffs.
Thereupon, faithful dānapatis and men of pervasive knowledge who accumulated goodness all contributed a timber or jointly donated a tile; relying on the power of this assembly, the task seemed like divine workmanship, and without many days of building, its decoration was completed. Constructed over time, it had tiered platforms and distant pavilions, duplicate halls and connected rooms. Winter and summer had different forms; yin and yang had separate layouts. Carved eaves and embroidered brackets vied in height with the precarious crags; chiseled plinths and carved foundations were as solid as rock cliffs. Wind and radiance issued from its doors and windows; clouds and mist arose from its beams and rafters. Flowers dazzled on golden plates; fragrances wafted from jade trees. Artisans painted the primary marks, pure as a golden mountain; craftsmen portrayed the true countenance, settled like the full moon. The hall was raised with three tiers of pillars, suspending a bell that sounded of itself; the chamber opened into a thousand petals of flowers, with lotuses upholding the airborne seat. The lamplight never went out, surpassing brightness even if filled with ocean oil; the flagpole pillars both bowed low, the banners they bore rising by themselves. Auspicious and soft grass grew luxuriantly along the courtyard; incense opposing the wind with harmonious air filled the precinct with rich fragrances.
Slantedly connecting to caves, a congealed spring directly poured down, its color like lapis lazuli, its taste identical to sweet dew. Waves surged into cauldrons and tripods; billows spilled down to the staircases and halls; drinking into the belly dispelled illness, and washing the body cured sickness. The shapes of stone pillars and copper beams cast their shadows into the lotus pond; the flowers of Peach Spring and Chrysanthemum Beach drifted their fragrance into the mango garden. It may be called a mountain akin to Gṛdhrakūṭa, a monastery like that of Revata; appearing as if from a Dragon Palace, or alighting as if flown from the Deer Park.
I humbly reflect that former kings who carved tripods merely discussed their achievements in ordering the state; now we jointly erect this stele to record forever the path of bodhi. Holding office as magistrate of this subordinate town, with the monastery situated in my mountain sector, though my writing expresses the intent, words cannot exhaust all there is to say. The verse says: