So is it not with me as with that Muse
Stirr'd by a painted beauty to his verse,
Who heaven itself for ornament¹ doth use
And every fair with his fair doth rehearse
Making a couplement of proud compare,
With sun and moon, with earth and sea's rich gems,
With April's first-born flowers, and all things rare
That heaven's air in this huge rondure hems².
O' let me, true in love, but truly write,
And then believe me, my love is as fair
As any mother's child, though not so bright
As those gold candles fix'd in heaven's air:
  Let them say more than like of hearsay³ well;
  I will not praise that purpose not to sell.

我的诗神①并不像那一位诗神
只知运用脂粉涂抹他的诗句，
连苍穹也要搬下来作妆饰品，
罗列每个佳丽去赞他的佳丽，
用种种浮夸的比喻作成对偶，
把他比太阳、月亮、海陆的瑰宝，
四月的鲜花，和这浩荡的宇宙
蕴藏在它的怀里的一切奇妙。
哦，让我既真心爱，就真心歌唱，
而且，相信我，我的爱可以媲美
任何母亲的儿子，虽然论明亮
比不上挂在天空的金色烛台。
　　谁喜欢空话，让他尽说个不穷；
　　我志不在出售，自用不着祷颂。