And therefore to your fair no painting set;
I found, or thought I found, you did exceed
The barren tender of a poet's debt;
And therefore have I slept in your report,
That you yourself being extant well might show
How far a modern quill doth come too short,
Speaking of worth, what worth in you doth grow.
This silence for my sin you did impute,
Which shall be most my glory, being dumb;
For I impair not beauty being mute,
When others would give life and bring a tomb.
There lives more life in one of your fair eyes
Than both your poets can in praise devise.
我從不覺得你需要涂脂蕩粉,
因而從不用脂粉涂你的朱顏;
我發(fā)覺,或以為發(fā)覺,你的豐韻
遠超過詩人獻你的無味繾綣:
因此,關于你我的歌只裝打盹,
好讓你自己生動地現身說法,
證明時下的文筆是多么粗笨,
想把美德,你身上的美德增華。
你把我這沉默認為我的罪行,
其實卻應該是我最大的榮光;
因為我不作聲于美絲毫無損,
別人想給你生命,反把你埋葬。
你的兩位詩人所模擬的贊美,
遠不如你一只慧眼所藏的光輝。