十四行诗 Sonnet 107

Not mine own fears, nor the prophetic soul

Of the wide world dreaming on things to come,

Can yet the lease of my true love control,

Supposed as forfeit to a confined doom.

The mortal moon hath her eclipse endured

And the sad augurs mock their own presage;

Incertainties now crown themselves assured

And peace proclaims olives of endless age.

Now with the drops of this most balmy time

My love looks fresh, and death to me subscribes,

Since, spite of him, I'll live in this poor rhyme,

While he insults o'er dull and speechless tribes:

And thou in this shalt find thy monument,

When tyrants' crests and tombs of brass are spent.

无论我自己的忧虑，或那梦想着

未来的这茫茫世界的先知灵魂，

都不能限制我的真爱的租约，

纵使它已注定作命运的抵偿品。

人间的月亮已度过被蚀的灾难，

不祥的占卜把自己的预言嘲讽，

动荡和疑虑既已获得了保险，

和平在宣告橄橄枝永久葱茏。

于是在这时代甘露的遍洒下，

我的爱面貌一新，而死神降伏，

既然我将活在这拙作里，任凭他

把那些愚钝的无言的种族凌辱。

　　你将在这里找着你的纪念碑，

　　魔王的金盔和铜墓却被销毁。