(When) in the chronicle of wasted time
曾翻阅过远古史册的零篇残简，
I see descriptions of the fairest wights,
见往昔的美人留踪于字里行间，
And beauty making beautiful old rhyme
古谣之美在于它讴歌的便是美，
In praise of ladies dead and lovely knights,
绝色多情的佳人骑士都曾笔底生辉。
Then, in the blazon of sweet beauty's best,
镂句雕章，早写尽天姿国色，
Of hand, of foot, of lip, of eye, of brow,
毫端翰墨临摹尽手足眼唇及双眉，
I see their antique pen would have express'd
如椽的画笔分明是想画出美妙之身，
Even such a beauty as you master now.
一如你今日展现的风采倾国倾城。
So all their praises are but prophecies
所以往古的一切赞词都无非是预言，
Of this our time, all you prefiguring;
预言我们这个时代，预言你的诞生。
And, for they look'd but with divining eyes,
因为古代诗人还只能想象你的风韵，
They had not skill enough your worth to sing:
要歌颂你的价值还缺乏足够的才情。
For we, which now behold these present days,
即便是我们，今日有幸亲睹尊颜，
Have eyes to wonder, but lack tongues to praise.
也只能望而兴叹，恨无妙语惊人。
