Sanzang was frightened out of his wits, and his two attendants went limp with terror. The Monster King gave the order to bind them, and the whole pack of fiends together lashed the three men with ropes and cords. Just as they were about to make ready to devour them, there came a clamour from outside, and someone came in to announce: "The Mountain Lord Xiong and the Recluse Te, the two of them, have arrived." Hearing this, Sanzang raised his head and looked, and saw that the one walking in front was a swarthy fellow. This was his manner and form:

Two more guests arrive, both with splendid titles. 熊山君 (Xióng Shān-jūn) is the "Mountain Lord Xiong," and 山君 — "lord of the mountain" — was an old polite euphemism for a bear, the way English once said "Bruin" rather than name the animal outright. 特處士 (Tè Chǔ-shì) is the "Recluse Te," and 處士 (chǔ shì) means a scholar who has declined public office on principle — about the most dignified thing a man could be called. Hold that thought; the portrait is going to take it apart.

Bold and fierce, of ample courage; nimble and strong, of burly frame.

The bear's portrait opens in the language of a military commander — bold, fierce, ample courage. Straight-faced, so far.

Fording streams by sheer brute force; coursing the woods, he flaunts his raging might.

跑林 (pǎo lín), "coursing the woods," catches the particular blundering speed of a bear at full tilt.

Long has he answered to auspicious dreams; now, alone, he shows his gallant form.

符吉夢 — "answering to auspicious dreams" — reaches back to the 詩經 (the Book of Songs), where dreaming of a bear was held to foretell the birth of sons. So the compliment is real, and also very old, and also being paid to an actual bear.

Green trees he can climb and break; knowing the cold, he reads the turning seasons well.

知寒, "knowing the cold," sounds like wisdom about the turning seasons. It is hibernation.

Truly a spirit at the sacred places, and so he is styled the Mountain Lord.

號 here is hào, "to be styled" or "titled" — the bear's honorific — not the other reading háo, "to howl," which would have been funnier but is not what the line says.

Then he saw that the one coming behind was a portly fellow. This was his manner and form:

Now the same treatment for the "Recluse," who is a wild ox.

Craggy and high, a crown of twin horns; grave and erect, with shoulders reared and back.

雙角冠, a "crown of twin horns": 冠 (guān) is the noun "cap," the formal headgear of an official. The ox's horns are being described as court dress.

By nature settled in his coat of grey; his hoofed gait for the most part slow and dragging.

青衣, the "grey coat," turns the hide into a garment — and "settled by nature" in it, as though the beast had chosen a sober wardrobe.

In his line the sire is called a bull; and from of old the dam is named a cow.

And the mock-genealogy delivers the punchline. 牯 (gǔ) is a bull and 牸 (zì) is a cow, so a couplet with the solemn shape of an ancestral record ends up announcing that this gentleman's father was a bull and his mother a cow. 號 (hào) again is "to be named."

Able to do the work of the man who tills the field, and so he is named the Recluse Te.

為 here is wéi, "to do" or "perform." And the last character gives the whole game away: 特 (tè) is itself an old word for a bull. So the grand style "Recluse-Scholar Te," unpacked, is roughly "Sir Ox, Esq." — and his one recorded accomplishment is being able to pull a plough.