Classical Prose
岳阳楼记
范仲淹
庆历四年春，滕子京谪守巴陵郡。
越明年，政通人和，百废具兴。
乃重修岳阳楼，增其旧制，刻唐贤今人诗赋于其上，属予作文以记之。
予观夫巴陵胜状，在洞庭一湖。
衔远山，吞长江，浩浩汤汤，横无际涯。
朝晖夕阴，气象万千。
此则岳阳楼之大观也，前人之述备矣。
然则北通巫峡，南极潇湘，迁客骚人，多会于此，览物之情，得无异乎？
若夫霪雨霏霏，连月不开，阴风怒号，浊浪排空。
日星隐曜，山岳潜形。
商旅不行，樯倾楫摧。
薄暮冥冥，虎啸猿啼。
登斯楼也，则有去国怀乡，忧谗畏讥，满目萧然，感极而悲者矣。
至若春和景明，波澜不惊，上下天光，一碧万顷。
沙鸥翔集，锦鳞游泳。
岸芷汀兰，郁郁青青。
而或长烟一空，皓月千里，浮光跃金，静影沉璧。
渔歌互答，此乐何极！
登斯楼也，则有心旷神怡，宠辱偕忘，把酒临风，其喜洋洋者矣。
嗟夫！予尝求古仁人之心，或异二者之为。
何哉？
不以物喜，不以己悲。
居庙堂之高则忧其民，处江湖之远则忧其君。
是进亦忧，退亦忧。
然则何时而乐耶？
其必曰：先天下之忧而忧，后天下之乐而乐乎！
噫！微斯人，吾谁与归？
Translation
In the spring of the fourth year of Qingli, Teng Zijing was exiled to be governor of Baling Commandery. By the following year, government was effective, the people were at peace, and all neglected matters had been revived. He then rebuilt Yueyang Tower, expanding its former scale, and had poems and rhapsodies by Tang masters and contemporary writers carved upon its walls. He asked me to compose an essay to record this. I have observed that the finest scenery of Baling lies entirely around Lake Dongting. It holds distant mountains in its mouth and swallows the Yangzi River. Its waters stretch vast and boundless, infinite in every direction. By morning it glows; by evening it darkens — a landscape of a thousand transformations. Such is the grand view from Yueyang Tower. Earlier writers have already described it fully. Yet northward it connects to Wu Gorge; southward it reaches the Xiao and Xiang Rivers. Exiled officials and wandering poets often gather here. Can their feelings toward the scenery truly be the same? In the season of unbroken rain, with month after month of gloom, when harsh winds howl and turbid waves dash against the sky, when sun and stars hide their light and mountains sink from view, when merchants and travelers cannot proceed and masts topple and oars shatter, when dusk falls dark and tigers roar and apes wail — then, ascending this tower, one feels the ache of leaving the court, the longing for home, the fear of slander and mockery. The eyes see nothing but desolation. Emotion churns into grief. But in the season of spring warmth and clear brightness, when gentle ripples smooth the lake, and sky and water reflect each other in a single vast expanse of green, when gulls gather and scatter, fish glide in brilliant scales, and the shore is thick with fragrant herbs, lush and green — or when the mist clears into bright moonlight shining a thousand miles, when light upon the waves leaps like molten gold and the still moon sinks like jade, when fishermen's songs answer one another — what joy could exceed this! Then, ascending this tower, one feels the heart expand and the spirit rejoice. Favor and disgrace alike are forgotten. Cup in hand, facing the wind, one is filled with overflowing gladness. Ah! I have sought the heart of the ancient benevolent men. Perhaps they were different from these two responses. Why? They were not elated by external things, nor saddened by personal circumstances. Standing high in the court, they worried for the people. Living far in the rivers and lakes, they worried for their sovereign. Advancing, they worried. Retreating, they worried. When, then, could they be happy? They would surely say: 'Worry before all the world has worried; rejoice only after all the world has rejoiced.' Ah! Without such men, whom could I follow?
Analysis
Record of Yueyang Tower is Fan Zhongyan's most famous prose work and a defining expression of Confucian public spirit. Commissioned to commemorate the rebuilt Yueyang Tower, the essay moves through three stages: scenic description, emotional contrast, and moral conclusion. The opening description of Lake Dongting is powerfully concise — the lake 'holds distant mountains in its mouth and swallows the Yangzi River.' The verbs create a sense of living vastness. Fan then constructs two contrasting scenes. The first depicts gloomy weather: unbroken rain, howling wind, turbid waves, hidden sun and stars, stranded travelers. Ascending the tower under these conditions produces grief — longing for home, fear of slander, a sense of desolation. The second depicts spring clarity: gentle waves, bright sky, gathering gulls, glistening fish, fragrant herbs, bright moonlight, singing fishermen. Ascending under these conditions produces joy — heart expanding, spirit lightened, favor and disgrace forgotten. The contrasting emotional states are so well described that the reader experiences both. But Fan uses them as a philosophical setup. The great turn comes with 'Ah! I have sought the heart of the ancient benevolent men.' These true sages were different: 'They were not elated by external things, nor saddened by personal circumstances.' This is the core insight — emotional independence from circumstance. The most famous line in the essay — 'Worry before all the world has worried; rejoice only after all the world has rejoiced' — defines a public morality that subordinates personal feeling to collective welfare. The final line 'Without such men, whom could I follow?' carries a note of lonely aspiration. Fan Zhongyan wrote this while himself in political exile. Like Teng Zijing, he was out of power. But instead of writing about personal grievance, he created the most famous statement of public duty in Chinese prose.
About the Author
Fan Zhongyan was a Northern Song statesman, writer, and military strategist, courtesy name Xiwen, from Wu County. He rose to the position of Vice Grand Councilor and led the Qingli Reforms. Known for his outspoken integrity, Fan excelled in argumentative prose and political essays. His most famous work, 'Record of Yueyang Tower,' contains the enduring lines 'Worry before the world has worried; rejoice only after the world has rejoiced.' He also wrote notable ci lyrics, including 'Pride of the Fisherman · Autumn Thoughts.'