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 blazon¹ 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 behold² 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。