南嶽總勝集 3.34

3.34

開寶年中。有率子廉者。本南岳之耕民。獷戾愚無取。眾皆謂率牛。一日厭為農時。乃投衡岳觀李尊師出家。未幾披戴為道士。後眾舉於紫虛閣住持。非當其才。但令彼洒掃而已。子廉得此欣然而往。常恃酒狂醉。往往倒臥於衢路。或山谷之間。雖風雨暴作虎狼鬪見蔑如也。一日禮部詔帥臣王公祐禱南岳。公為性簡傲。時山中道釋悉奔祗謁。及行祭禮畢。忽問左右曰。吾聞有魏夫人壇安在。對曰。即紫虛閣是也。有主否。曰道士率子廉。一人何謂不來參謁。答曰。子廉本山下之農夫。殊無他能。人皆以率牛呼之。性好酒不來參謁。必酒病也。公乃逕詣閣見子廉。果中酒首不能舉視。其生涯只有破鐵銚及缺磁椀器數事而已。外索然無覩。公呼之。但努目注視曰。深山道士罕遇酒。遇酒則大醉。所以委頓如此。望明公不責。公大喜以為任真守朴信所謂道人也。翌日與同舟而歸府。置之於水閣中。經月使之將行。復謂之曰。尊師韜光內映之人也。誠所珍重。幾欲作成一篇。為王事所迫。矻矻未暇。五七日間詩成。當令送上。幸勿訝然。子廉歸岳。數月未聞至。公一夕因觀書倦而假寢。恍然見子廉遽入府。主曾云詩許。以五七日為約。數月未聞。得非事有所廢忘乎。言訖逕去。公覺甚懷感愧。遂乃燈下為三絕。仍加序以寄之。詩曰。古屋當崖映月開。年年常伴白雲閑。餱糧丹火何從出。四面無人見下山。下瞰虛空臨絕磵。上排煙霧倚山巔。四邊嶮絕無猿鳥。獨臥白雲三十年。心意逍遙物莫知。山中山下識人稀。想君絕累忘塵境。不是王喬即令威。翌日命寫於版。遣人齎送南嶽。懸於本閣。子廉曰。我則何用以慰。閣之清虛爾。本詩石在縣之江亭。熙寧間碑為火所焚。今銓德觀。復刻石記之。東坡居士序兼書。紹興中。住持黃庭觀道士陳子常再刻之於本觀閣下。太平興國五年六月十七日。子廉忽使人白衡岳觀李尊師云。以他遊故來辭。請令人來照管。師得之云。此人土木愚子盛暑何往。遂親去訪之。至則奄然。師謂童行曰。吾不料率牛先知其死日耶。遂以禮葬之。未幾有南臺寺僧守澄。自京師回。於南薰門外。忽遇子廉。相敘契闊。其詞甚優逸。曰尊師歸岳中否。曰思欲一看京師。臨行蒙尊師贐送甚厚。欲奉一書致謝。勞大德為達之還可否。守澄遂領書往衡岳李尊師處。開對之則六月十七日書也。遂發其塚而觀之。但遺一拄杖并鞵爾。

During the Kaibao reign era, there was a man named Shuai Zilian. Originally an agricultural worker of Nanyue, he was unruly, stubborn, simple-minded, and good for nothing, so everyone called him 'Bull Shuai'. One day, tiring of farming, he went to Master Li of the Hengyue Belvedere to leave the household. Before long he was tonsured and ordained as a Daoist priest. Later, the community recommended him to be the abbot of Zixu Pavilion, not because of his talent, but merely to have him sweep and clean. Zilian was delighted to take this on and went there. He frequently indulged in wine, getting wildly intoxicated, and would often collapse asleep in the streets or among the mountain valleys; even when violent storms suddenly arose or tigers and wolves fought around him, he was completely oblivious. One day, the Ministry of Rites decreed that Commander Duke Wang You pray at Nanyue. The Duke was by nature aloof and arrogant. At that time, all the Daoists and Buddhists of the mountain rushed to pay their respects to him. When the sacrificial ceremony was completed, he suddenly asked his attendants, 'I have heard that the altar of Lady Wei is here; where is it?' They replied, 'It is precisely at Zixu Pavilion.' 'Does it have a master?' They said, 'The Daoist priest Shuai Zilian. He alone did not come to pay his respects.' [The Duke asked,] 'Why?' They replied, 'Zilian was originally a farmer from the foot of the mountain and has no other abilities whatsoever. Everyone calls him Bull Shuai. By nature he is fond of wine; that he has not come to pay his respects is certainly due to drunkenness.' The Duke then went straight to the pavilion to see Zilian, who was indeed drunk, unable even to lift his head to look. All he possessed in his living quarters were a few items—a broken iron pan and chipped porcelain bowls; outside there was nothing else to be seen. The Duke called to him, but he only stared with bulging eyes and said, 'A Daoist deep in the mountains rarely encounters wine; when I encounter wine, I get deeply drunk. That is why I am so exhausted and disheveled. I hope your Excellency will not blame me.' The Duke was greatly pleased, regarding him as genuine, holding to simplicity, truly a so-called man of the Dao. The next day, he shared a boat with him to return to his administrative seat and lodged him in a water pavilion. After a month had passed, as he was about to send him off, he said to him again, 'Venerable Master, you are a person whose inner brilliance is concealed; you are truly cherished. I almost composed a poem for you, but pressed by state affairs, I have been diligently occupied and had no leisure. In five to seven days, once the poem is finished, I will send it up to you. Please do not think it strange.' Zilian returned to the mountain peak. Several months passed without word of it arriving. One night, the Duke, weary from reading books, dozed off and in a daze saw Zilian abruptly enter the office: 'My lord once spoke of promising a poem, setting an agreement of five to seven days. Several months have passed without hearing of it; could it be that it was neglected and forgotten amidst affairs?' Having spoken, he left directly. When the Duke awoke, he felt very touched and ashamed, and so under the lamp he composed three quatrains, adding a preface to send to him. The poems read: / 'The ancient house faces the cliff, opening beneath the reflected moon; / Year after year, it is idly accompanied by white clouds. / From where do the provisions and the cinnabar-fire come? / From the four sides, no one is seen walking down the mountain.' / 'Looking down upon the void, overlooking the sheer ravine; / Rising above to cleave the mists, leaning against the mountain summit. / The four sides are precipitous, devoid of apes or birds; / Sleeping alone amid white clouds for thirty years.' / 'With a carefree mind, no thing is perceived; / Rare are the people who recognize him, up the mountain or down. / I imagine you have severed worldly burdens and forgotten the dust; / If you are not Wang Qiao, you must be Ding Lingwei.' / The next day, he ordered it inscribed on a wooden board and dispatched a person to carry it to Nanyue to be hung in his pavilion. Zilian said, 'What use have I for such consolation? It merely matches the clear emptiness of this pavilion.' The original poem's stele was located at the river pavilion in the county. During the Xining reign era, the stele was burned by fire. Now it has been re-engraved on stone at the Quande Belvedere to record it, with a preface and calligraphy by Layman Dongpo. During the Shaoxing reign era, the abbot of Huangting Belvedere, the Daoist Chen Zichang, carved it again below the pavilion of his own belvedere. On the seventeenth day of the sixth month in the fifth year of the Taiping Xingguo reign era, Zilian suddenly sent someone to tell Master Li of the Hengyue Belvedere, saying, 'Because I am traveling elsewhere, I have come to take my leave; please send someone to oversee [the pavilion].' When the master received this, he said, 'This rustic, simple fellow—where could he be going in the height of summer?' He then went personally to visit him. Upon arrival, [Zilian] was already dead. The master said to the acolytes, 'I never expected that Bull Shuai would foresee the day of his death!' They then buried him with proper rites. Not long after, a monk of Nantai Monastery named Shouceng returned from the capital, and outside the Nanxun Gate, he suddenly met Zilian. They exchanged reminisces of their separation, and [Zilian's] words were exceedingly refined and leisurely. He asked, 'Are you returning to the mountain, Venerable Master?' [Zilian] said, 'I wished to take a look at the capital. Prior to my departure, I was blessed with very generous farewell gifts from Master Li; I wish to present a letter to express my thanks. May I trouble you, Great Virtuous One, to deliver it for me?' Shouceng then received the letter and went to Master Li at Hengyue. When they opened and checked it, it was a letter dated the seventeenth day of the sixth month! Thereupon, they opened his grave to look: there was only a walking stick and a pair of shoes left inside.