The forward violet thus did I chide:

Sweet thief, whence didst thou steal thy sweet that smells,

If not from my love's breath? The purple pride

Which on thy soft cheek for complexion dwells

In my love's veins thou hast too grossly dyed.

The lily I condemned for thy hand,

And buds of marjoram had stol'n thy hair:

The roses fearfully on thorns did stand,

One blushing shame, another white despair;

A third, nor red nor white, had stol'n of both

And to his robbery had annex'd thy breath;

But, for his theft, in pride of all his growth

A vengeful canker eat him up to death.

More flowers I noted, yet I none could see

But sweet or colour it had stol'n from thee.

我对孟浪的紫罗兰这样谴责：

"温柔贼，你哪里偷来这缕温馨，

若不是从我爱的呼息？这紫色

在你的柔颊上抹了一层红晕，

还不是从我爱的血管里染得？

我申斥百合花盗用了你的手，

茉沃兰的蓓蕾偷取你的柔发；

站在刺上的玫瑰花吓得直抖，

一朵羞得通红，一朵绝望到发白，

另一朵，不红不白，从双方偷来；

还在赃物上添上了你的呼息，

但既犯了盗窃，当它正昂头盛开，

一条怒冲冲的毛虫把它咬死。

　　我还看见许多花，但没有一朵

　　不从你那里偷取芬芳和婀娜。