Lament for Lord Yun, Director of Studies in the National Academy國子司業尹公哀詞
有奇偉博大眞人天水尹公諱威。字某。系出故元帥侍中諱彥頤。而奕葉門地也。始隱居山中。自號碧松居士。然以明月夜光。不可藏之於暗。故不得已出而從仕。歷踐華要。官至國子司業。其爲人。仁厚醞藉。方正廉約。德行文章。皆備而無缺。飮酒至數斗不亂。嘗自言自娶妻來。不犯他色。此亦人所難者。凡擧措。略苛碎節目。存其大體而已。世因以爲有宰相器。皆必其遠到。不幸出爲西都留守。竟未復而薨。嗚呼。天之布施也如此。公之被斥也。有潛扇之者。雖公亦未甚詳也。予掌記全州時。爲同寮所疾。公出爲廉察使。以嘗厚予。故至是慰遇滋縟。而待彼甚薄。由是銜之。後因事有以微中之也。此不可終祕者。公之卒。如喪昆仲。詞以哀之曰。蟬聯家兮奕葉煌煌。或秉黃鉞兮戡定戎羌。慶源流長兮波及子孫。落落我公兮負氣軒昂。始肥遁兮如龍之蟠。忽儀兮如鳳之翔。望之儼兮凜莫犯。卽之温兮煦如陽。繩墨是蹈兮不泥而隘。豁達其度兮不泛而溢。飮至數斗兮神色自如。淘寫高懷兮一以雄筆。文典兮遒勁。詩放兮橫逸。人謂公兮望允台輔。四海渴仰兮霖雨是期。官司業顧不卑兮。階此遠到兮猶未遲。孰簧其舌鼓駭機兮。俾公西兮屈於留司。天之沮喪是其非兮。折翼去兮竟不來歸。瑤林玉對淪晶暉兮。猶有遺詞兮堪被金絲。昔陽城出刺以此官兮。諸生詣闕兮訴者其稠。言雖報罷兮其義可嘉。激時之澆兮礪人之浮。公之去兮學者安在。哀哉世薄兮誰其乞留。鬱孤憤兮果隕生。九原冥漠兮誰與遊。嗚呼夫子之不幸兮。始若有爲兮卒以跌蹉。奧予之志兮捨公孰知。質已去兮輟斤以嗟。雷予聲兮痛哭。公不聞兮可奈何。淸風爽氣猶若襲人兮。予爲此形容兮無詞以華。
There was a man outstanding and great and true, Lord Yun (尹公) of Cheonsu (天水). His name was Wi (威) and his courtesy name such-and-such. His line came down from the former commander-in-chief and Director of the Chancellery whose name was Eoni (彥頤), and his was a house illustrious generation after generation. At first he lived hidden in the mountains and called himself the Layman of the Green Pine (碧松居士). But a bright moon and a pearl that shines at night cannot be kept hidden in the dark, and so, unwillingly, he came out and entered upon office, passed in turn through the pivotal posts, and reached Director of Studies in the National Academy.
In his person he was kind and warm and generous, upright and clean-handed and frugal. Virtuous conduct and literary skill were both complete in him, with nothing wanting. He could drink several measures of wine without coming undone. He once said of himself, "Since I took a wife I have never touched another woman," and this too is a hard thing for a man. In handling affairs he pared away the petty articles and kept to the great trunk alone. The world therefore said that he had the stuff of a chancellor, and all thought that he would go far. Unhappily he went out as Superintendent of the Western Capital, and in the end he did not come back but passed away. Alas, such is what Heaven bestows.
In the Lord's being thrust out there was someone who quietly fanned the fire, but even the Lord himself did not know it in detail. When I was Recorder in Jeonju (全州) I was hated by a colleague. The Lord came out as inspecting commissioner, and since he had thought well of me from before, by this time he consoled me and treated me more warmly still, and treated that man very coldly. From this the man bore a grudge, and afterward, borrowing some affair for his pretext, he struck obliquely at the Lord. This is a thing that can never be hidden. When the Lord died it was as though I had lost a brother. I have made a writing to grieve for him, and it is this.
O house handed down in succession, generation after generation shining and shining. One of them held the yellow axe and struck the barbarians and put them down. The source of blessing flowed long, and its waves reached the sons and grandsons. Towering was our Lord, who held a high spirit, lofty and imposing. At first he lay amply hidden, like a dragon coiled. Then suddenly he showed his bearing, like a phoenix in flight. Looked at from afar he was stern, awesome and not to be trespassed upon. Approached, he was warm, genial as the sunlight. He trod the ink-line, yet was not blocked and narrow. His measure was open, yet he was neither giddy nor overflowing. He drank several measures, and his color stayed the same. He poured out his lofty feelings, and always with a vigorous brush. His prose had measure and sinew; his poems were open and unhindered. People said of the Lord that he would rise to the seat of the Three Dukes. The whole world looked up thirstily and counted upon a sweet rain. The office of Director of Studies is not a low one, and to tread it and reach far would not have been late. Who wagged his tongue and sprang the hidden snare, sending the Lord west to be bent down into a superintendent's seat? Heaven's blocking and breaking of him was wrong. His wing broken, he went, and in the end he did not return. The fair grove and the jade-like figure sank away together with their clear light, yet there are writings he left, fit to be set to the strings of a geomungo. Of old, when Yang Cheng (陽城) went out from this same office to be a regional inspector, the students who came before the palace to plead for him stood thick. Their words were not accepted, yet their righteousness was fair, stirring a harsh age and grinding giddy men into shape. When the Lord went away, where were those who study? Alas, the world is harsh; who would have begged him to stay? A lonely indignation knotted within him, and at last he lost his life. The world beyond is far away; with whom does he roam there? Alas, the misfortune of the master. At first it seemed that he would do something, and in the end he fell. My deep intent — who should know it, if not the Lord? My match is gone, and I lay down the adze and sigh. I wail aloud like thunder, but the Lord cannot hear; what is to be done? The clear wind and the cool air seem still to come over one, and as I try to draw it out I have no words to dress it in.