莎士比亚十四行诗第七十一、第七十二首
No longer mourn for me when I am dead
Than you shall hear the surly sullen bell
Give warning to the world that I am fled
From this vile world with vildest worms to dwell. 4
Nay,if you read this line,remember not
The hand that writ it,for I love you so
That I in your sweet thoughts would be forgot,
If thinking on me then should make you woe. 8
O if,I say,you look upon this verse,
When I,perhaps,com-pounded am with clay,
Do not so much as poor name rehearse,
But let your love even with my life decay, 12
Lest the wise world should look into your moan,
And mock you with me after I am gone.
O! lest the world should task you to recite
What merit lived in me, that you should love
After my death,— dear love, forget me quite,
For you in me can nothing worthy prove;
Unless you would devise some virtuous lie,
To do more for me than mine own desert,
And hang more praise upon deceased I
Than niggard truth would willingly impart:
O! lest your true love may seem false in this,
That you for love speak well of me untrue,
My name be buried where my body is,
And live no more to shame nor me nor you;
For I am sham'd by that which I bring forth,
And so should you, to love things nothing worth.