求莎士比亚经典爱情诗（英文版）

急求莎士比亚的爱情诗《爱情的礼赞》英文原稿！！！谢谢~

The Passionate Pilgrim
爱情的礼赞
I.
When my love swears that she is made of truth,
I do believe her, though I know she lies,
That she might think me some untutor'd youth,
Unskilful in the world's false forgeries,
Thus vainly thinking that she thinks me young,
Although I know my years be past the best,
I smiling credit her false-speaking tongue,
Outfacing faults in love with love's ill rest.
But wherefore says my love that she is young?
And wherefore say not I that I am old?
O, love's best habit is a soothing tongue,
And age, in love, loves not to have years told.
Therefore, I'll lie with love, and love with me,
Since that our faults in love thus smother'd be.

II.
Two loves I have, of comfort and despair,
That like two spirits do suggest me still;
My better angel is a man right fair,
My worser spirit a woman colour'd ill.
To win me soon to hell, my female evil
Tempteth my better angel from my side,
And would corrupt my saint to be a devil,
Wooing his purity with her fair pride.
And whether that my angel be turn'd fiend,
Suspect I may, yet not directly tell:
For being both to me, both to each friend,
I guess one angel in another's hell:
The truth I shall not know, but live in doubt,
Till my bad angel fire my good one out.

III.
Did not the heavenly rhetoric of thine eye,
Gainst whom the world could not hold argument.
Persuade my heart to this false perjury?
Vows for thee broke deserve not punishment.
A woman I forswore; but I will prove,
Thou being a goddess, I forswore not thee:
My vow was earthly, thou a heavenly love:
Thy grace being gain'd cures all disgrace in me.
My vow was breath, and breath a vapour is;
Then, thou fair sun, that on this earth doth shine,
Exhale this vapour vow; in thee it is:
If broken, then it is no fault of mine.
If by me broke, what fool is not so wise
To break an oath, to win a paradise?

IV.
Sweet Cytherea, sitting by a brook
With young Adonis, lovely, fresh, and green,
Did court the lad with many a lovely look,
Such looks as none could look but beauty's queen,
She told him stories to delight his ear;
She show'd him favours to allure his eye;
To win his heart, she touch'd him here and there,
-- Touches so soft still conquer chastity.
But whether unripe years did want conceit,
Or he refused to take her figured proffer,
The tender nibbler would not touch the bait,
But smile and jest at every gentle offer:
Then fell she on her back, fair queen, and toward:
He rose and ran away; ah, fool too froward!

V.
If love make me forsworn, how shall
I swear to love?
O never faith could hold,
If not to beauty vow'd:
Though to myself forsworn, to thee
I'll constant prove;
Those thoughts, to me like oaks, to thee
Like osiers bow'd.
Study his bias leaves,
and make his book thine eyes,
Where all those pleasures live that art can comprehend.
If knowledge be the mark, to know thee shall suffice;
Well learned is that tongue that well can thee commend;
All ignorant that soul that sees thee without wonder;
Which is to me some praise, that I thy parts admire:
Thy eye Jove's lightning seems, thy voice his dreadful thunder,
Which, not to anger bent, is music and sweet fire.
Celestial as thou art, O do not love that wrong,
To sing heaven's praise with such an earthly tongue.

VI.
Scarce had the sun dried up the dewy morn,
And scarce the herd gone to the hedge for shade,
When Cytherea, all in love forlorn,
A longing tarriance for Adonis made
Under an osier growing by a brook,
A brook where Adon used to cool his spleen:
Hot was the day; she hotter that did
look For his approach, that often there had been.
Anon he comes, and throws his mantle by,
And stood stark naked on the brook's green brim:
The sun look'd on the world with glorious eye,
Yet not so wistly as this queen on him.
He, spying her, bounced in, whereas he stood:
'O Jove,' quoth she, 'why was not I a flood!'

VII.
Fair is my love, but not so fair as fickle;
Mild as a dove, but neither true nor trusty;
Brighter than glass, and yet, as glass is brittle;
Softer than wax, and yet, as iron, rusty:
A lily pale, with damask dye to grace her,
None fairer, nor none falser to deface her.
Her lips to mine how often hath she joined,
Between each kiss her oaths of true love swearing!
How many tales to please me bath she coined,
Dreading my love, the loss thereof still fearing!
Yet in the midst of all her pure protestings,
Her faith, her oaths, her tears, and all were jestings.
She burn'd with love, as straw with fire flameth;
She burn'd out love, as soon as straw outburneth;
She framed the love, and yet she foil'd the framing;
She bade love last, and yet she fell a-turning.
Was this a lover, or a lecher whether?
Bad in the best, though excellent in neither.

VIII.
If music and sweet poetry agree,
As they must needs, the sister and the brother,
Then must the love be great 'twixt thee and me,
Because thou lovest the one, and I the other.
Dowland to thee is dear, whose heavenly touch
Upon the lute doth ravish human sense;
Spenser to me, whose deep conceit is such
As, passing all conceit, needs no defence.
Thou lovest to bear the sweet melodious sound
That Phoebus' lute, the queen of music, makes;
And I in deep delight am chiefly drown'd
Whenas himself to singing he betakes.
One god is god of both, as poets feign;
One knight loves both, and both in thee remain.

IX.
Fair was the morn when the fair queen of love,
* * * * * *
Paler for sorrow than her milk-white dove,
For Adon's sake, a youngster proud and wild;
Her stand she takes upon a steep-up hill:
Anon Adonis comes with horn and hounds;
She, silly queen, with more than love's good will,
Forbade the boy he should not pass those grounds:
'Once,' quoth she, 'did I see a fair sweet youth
Here in these brakes deep-wounded with a boar,
Deep in the thigh, a spectacle of ruth!
See, in my thigh,' quoth she, 'here was the sore.
She showed hers: he saw more wounds than one,
And blushing fled, and left her all alone.

X.
Sweet rose, fair flower, untimely pluck'd, soon vaded,
Pluck'd in the bud, and vaded in the spring!
Bright orient pearl, alack, too timely shaded!
Fair creature, kill'd too soon by death's sharp sting!
Like a green plum that hangs upon a tree,
And falls, through wind, before the fall should he.
I weep for thee, and yet no cause I have;
For why thou left'st me nothing in thy will:
And yet thou left'st me more than I did crave;
For why I craved nothing of thee still:
O yes, dear friend, I pardon crave of thee,
Thy discontent thou didst bequeath to me.

XI.
Venus, with young Adonis sitting by her
Under a myrtle shade, began to woo him:
She told the youngling how god Mars did try her,
And as he fell to her, so fell she to him.
'Even thus,' quoth she, 'the warlike god embraced me,'
And then she clipp'd Adonis in her arms;
'Even thus,' quoth she, 'the warlike god unlaced me,'
As if the boy should use like loving charms;
'Even thus,' quoth she, 'he seized on my lips
And with her lips on his did act the seizure
And as she fetched breath, away he skips,
And would not take her meaning nor her pleasure.
Ah, that I had my lady at this bay,
To kiss and clip me till I run away!

XII.
Crabbed age and youth cannot live together
Youth is full of pleasance, age is full of care;
Youth like summer morn, age like winter weather;
Youth like summer brave, age like winter bare;
Youth is full of sport, age's breath is short;
Youth is nimble, age is lame;
Youth is hot and bold, age is weak and cold;
Youth is wild, and age is tame.
Age, I do abhor thee; youth,I do adore thee;
O, my love, my love is young!
Age, I do defy thee:
O, sweet shepherd, hie thee,
For methinks thou stay'st too long.

XIII.
Beauty is but a vain and doubtful good;
A shining gloss that vadeth suddenly;
A flower that dies when first it gins to bud;
A brittle glass that's broken presently:
A doubtful good, a gloss, a glass, a flower,
Lost, vaded, broken, dead within an hour.
And as goods lost are seld or never found,
As vaded gloss no rubbing will refresh,
As flowers dead lie wither'd on the ground,
As broken glass no cement can redress,
So beauty blemish'd once's for ever lost,
In spite of physic, painting, pain and cost.

XIV.
Good night, good rest. Ah, neither be my share:
She bade good night that kept my rest away;
And daff'd me to a cabin hang'd with care,
To descant on the doubts of my decay.
'Farewell,' quoth she, 'and come again tomorrow:
Fare well I could not, for I supp'd with sorrow.
Yet at my parting sweetly did she smile,
In scorn or friendship, nill I construe whether:
'T may be, she joy'd to jest at my exile,
'T may be, again to make me wander thither:
'Wander,' a word for shadows like myself,
As take the pain, but cannot pluck the pelf.

XV.
Lord, how mine eyes throw gazes to the east!
My heart doth charge the watch; the morning rise
Doth cite each moving sense from idle rest.
Not daring trust the office of mine eyes,
While Philomela sits and sings, I sit and mark,
And wish her lays were tuned like the lark;
For she doth welcome daylight with her ditty,
And drives away dark dismal-dreaming night:
The night so pack'd, I post unto my pretty;
Heart hath his hope, and eyes their wished sight;
For why, she sigh'd and bade me come tomorrow.
Sorrow changed to solace, solace mix'd with sorrow;
Were I with her, the night would post too soon;
But now are minutes added to the hours;
To spite me now, each minute seems a moon;
Yet not for me, shine sun to succour flowers!
Pack night, peep day; good day, of night now borrow:
Short, night, to-night, and length thyself to-morrow.

本文来自酷悠中英文对照阅读网-WWW.CUYOO.COM

Sonnet 18 Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate: Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May, And summer’s lease hath all too short a date: Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines And often is his gold complexion dimmed; And every fair from fair sometimes declines, By chance or nature’s changing course untrimmed; But thy eternal summer shall not fade, Nor lose possession of that fair thou own; Nor shall death brag thou wander in his shade, When in eternal lines to time thou grow: So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see, So long lives this, and this gives life to thee. By William Shakespeare

第18首 十四行诗 能不能让我来把你比作夏日？ 你可是更加可爱，更加温婉； 狂风会吹落五月里盛开的花朵， 夏季的日子又未免太短暂； 有时候苍天的巨眼照得太灼热， 他那金彩的脸色也会被被遮暗； 每一样美呀,总会（离开美丽）凋落， 被时机或者自然的代谢所摧残； 但是你永久的夏天决不会凋枯， 你永远不会失去你美的形象； 死神夸不着你在他影子里的踟蹰， 你将在不朽的诗中与时间同长； 只要人类在呼吸，眼睛看得见， 我这诗就活着，使你的生命绵延。 （屠岸 译）

Sonnet 18
Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate:
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer’s lease hath all too short a date:
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines
And often is his gold complexion dimmed;
And every fair from fair sometimes declines,
By chance or nature’s changing course untrimmed;
But thy eternal summer shall not fade,
Nor lose possession of that fair thou own;
Nor shall death brag thou wander in his shade,
When in eternal lines to time thou grow:
So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.
By William Shakespeare
第18首 十四行诗
能不能让我来把你比作夏日？
你可是更加可爱，更加温婉；
狂风会吹落五月里盛开的花朵，
夏季的日子又未免太短暂；
有时候苍天的巨眼照得太灼热，
他那金彩的脸色也会被被遮暗；
每一样美呀,总会（离开美丽）凋落，
被时机或者自然的代谢所摧残；
但是你永久的夏天决不会凋枯，
你永远不会失去你美的形象；
死神夸不着你在他影子里的踟蹰，
你将在不朽的诗中与时间同长；
只要人类在呼吸，眼睛看得见，
我这诗就活着，使你的生命绵延。
（屠岸 译）

你的胸怀有了那些心而越可亲
（它们的消逝我只道已经死去）；
原来爱，和爱的一切可爱部分，
和埋掉的友谊都在你怀里藏住。
多少为哀思而流的圣洁泪珠
那虔诚的爱曾从我眼睛偷取
去祭奠死者！我现在才恍然大悟
他们只离开我去住在你的心里。
你是座收藏已往恩情的芳冢，
满挂着死去的情人的纪念牌，
他们把我的馈赠尽向你呈贡，
你独自享受许多人应得的爱。
在你身上我瞥见他们的倩影，
而你，他们的总和，尽有我的心。
Thy bosom is endearèd with all hearts
Which I, by lacking, have supposèd dead;
And there reigns love, and all love’s loving parts,
And all those friends which I thought burièd.
How many a holy and obsequious tear
Hath dear religious love stol'n from mine eye
As interest of the dead, which now appear
But things removed that hidden in thee lie.
Thou art the grave where buried love doth live,
Hung with the trophies of my lovers gone,
Who all their parts of me to thee did give;
That due of many now is thine alone.
�6�9�6�9Their images I loved I view in thee,
�6�9�6�9And thou, all they, hast all the all of me. 爱是温柔的吗？
它太粗暴、太专横、太野蛮了；
它像荆棘一样刺人。
Love is gentle?
It is too rude, too arbitrary, too barbaric;
It is like thorns thorns like people.
最甜的蜜糖可以使味觉麻木；
不太热烈的爱情才会维持久远；
太快和太慢，结果都不会圆满。The sweet taste of honey can numbness;
Love is not only to maintain warm long;
Too fast and too slow, and the results are not satisfactory.

悲哀是爱情的证据。
但是，
深深的悲哀是判断力不足的证据 Sad love evidence.
However,
Judgement is deeply grieved insufficient evidence

Sonnet 18Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?Thou art more lovely and more temperate:Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,And summer’s lease hath all too short a date:Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shinesAnd often is his gold complexion dimmed;And every fair from fair sometimes declines,By chance or nature’s changing course untrimmed;But thy eternal summer shall not fade,Nor lose possession of that fair thou own;Nor shall death brag thou wander in his shade,When in eternal lines to time thou grow:So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.By William Shakespeare第18首 十四行诗能不能让我来把你比作夏日？你可是更加可爱，更加温婉；狂风会吹落五月里盛开的花朵，夏季的日子又未免太短暂；有时候苍天的巨眼照得太灼热，他那金彩的脸色也会被被遮暗；每一样美呀,总会（离开美丽）凋落，被时机或者自然的代谢所摧残；但是你永久的夏天决不会凋枯，你永远不会失去你美的形象；死神夸不着你在他影子里的踟蹰，你将在不朽的诗中与时间同长；只要人类在呼吸，眼睛看得见，我这诗就活着，使你的生命绵延。

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