評論
打印
O truant Muse, what shall be thy amends
啊，詩神，有一種真侵染于美，
For thy neglect of truth in beauty dyed?
你卻不縱情謳歌，這又該當何罪？
Both truth and beauty on my love depends;
真和美都仰仗我的愛而生存，
So dost thou too, and therein dignified.
你也一樣，缺了它就無法稱作花魁。
Make answer, Muse: wilt thou not haply say
回答吧，詩神，你干嗎不說，
Truth needs no colour, with his colour fix'd;"
“真自有其色不必另外增輝，
Beauty no pencil, beauty's truth to lay;
美自有其真容何須借重畫筆，
But best is best, if never intermix'd?'
天下至美，本不需雜色相隨。”
Because he needs no praise, wilt thou be dumb?
難道是因他不需贊詞你便趁機噤口，
Excuse not silence so; for't lies in thee
別，別這樣沉默，須知你本有神威
To make him much outlive a gilded tomb,
讓他的英名留芳于千秋萬代，
And to be praised of ages yet to be.
縱然那時鍍金的墳墓已變為土灰。
Then do thy office, Muse; I teach thee how
那么詩神，啟開歌喉吧，聽我的忠言，
To make him seem long hence as he shows now.
讓他于百代之后，也照樣美譽滿天。
