英文
LXXXVI
Was it the proud full sail of his great verse,
Bound for the prize of all-too-precious you,
That did my ripe thoughts in my brain inhearse,
Making their tomb the womb wherein they grew?
Was it his spirit, by spirits taught to write
Above a mortal pitch, that struck me dead?
No, neither he, nor his compeers by night
Giving him aid, my verse astonished.
He, nor that affable familiar ghost
Which nightly gulls him with intelligence,
As victors of my silence cannot boast;
I was not sick of any fear from thence.
But when your countenance filled up his line,
Then lacked I matter; that enfeebled mine.
中文
86
他的诗篇是否扬起了满帆
要去掠劫你这座稀世宝藏，
以致我的思想在脑中流产，
它的子宫反而变成了坟场？
抑或他的灵府受精灵教授，
欲创神品，故而置我于死地？
不，他和他那班夜间的助手
都不能将我的诗吓成呆滞。
他，加上那位出没于黑夜，
用智慧误导他的多事精灵，
都不是致我沉默的胜利者；
我缄口无语，决非出于受惊。
然而，当你的美做他的诗神，
我便无言以对，且一蹶不振。
