Memorial Ode for Ma Dugong

The following is a memorial ode composed within the fictional universe of Linggao Qiming, addressed to Elder Ma Qianhu—known to the outside world as Ma Dugong—on the occasion of his forced retirement from public commentary. It is written in the style of Ouyang Xiu’s memorial essays and should be read accordingly.

For even what human effort can achieve cannot always be expected—how much less can the inscrutable principles of Heaven be calculated!

The Elder’s voice rang out across the airwaves; his learning was vast as the sea; his analysis of affairs keen as a blade. For years he spoke of the great currents of history, dissecting policy and power with a clarity that few could match. His manner was bold; his prose surged like the Yellow River in flood, blazed like the sun and moon in radiance, gusted like the storm over mountains, rushed like a chariot over open plain. Listeners wept; listeners leapt to their feet.

Yet fate is not always kind to those of talent. Twice suppressed, twice he rose again. Each time, we who admired him from afar feared the worst; each time, he returned. When Chairman Wen, in the final years of his administration, entrusted to the Elder the Senate’s security—that was the height of his influence, and we believed it would last.

It has not lasted. Now the Elder has gone from the field; the Wenlan River flows on without his voice beside it; the Holy Ship lies at anchor without his counsel on its bridge. We who remain can only raise a cup at the waterfront and dream of him.

Prosperity and decline, rise and fall—this has always been thus. The principles of Heaven cannot be calculated; the work of our hands cannot always deliver what we intend. Yet at the waterfront I dream of you, Elder, and cannot forget.

Composed in the seventh month of the year 2021, in mourning and in hope.