When in the chronicle of wasted time

I see descriptions of the fairest wights,

And beauty making beautiful old rhyme

In praise of ladies dead and lovely knights,

Then, in the blazon of sweet beauty's best,

Of hand, of foot, of lip, of eye, of brow,

I see their antique pen would have express'd

Even such a beauty as you master now.

So all their praises are but prophecies

Of this our time, all you prefiguring;

And, for they look'd but with divining eyes,

They had not skill enough your worth to sing:

For we, which now behold these present days,

Had eyes to wonder, but lack tongues to praise.

当我从那湮远的古代的纪年

发见那绝代风流人物的写真，

艳色使得古老的歌咏也香艳，

颂赞着多情骑士和绝命佳人，

于是，从那些国色天姿的描画，

无论手脚、嘴唇、或眼睛或眉额，

我发觉那些古拙的笔所表达

恰好是你现在所占领的姿色。

所以他们的赞美无非是预言

我们这时代，一切都预告着你；

不过他们观察只用想象的眼，

还不够才华把你歌颂得尽致：

　　而我们，幸而得亲眼看见今天，

　　只有眼惊羡，却没有舌头咏叹。