雙語·英美愛情詩歌選 9　十四行詩第54首

9. Sonnet 54

——E. Spenser

Of this worlds Theatre in which we stay,

My love like the Spectátor ydly sits

Beholding me that all the pageants' play,

Disguysing diversly my troubled wits.

Sometimes I joy when glad occasion fits,

And mask in myrth lyke to a Comedy:

Soone after when my joy to sorrow flits,

I waile and make my woes a Tragedy.

Yet she, beholding me with constant eye,

Delights not in my merth nor rues' my smart:

But when I laugh she mocks, and when I cry

She laughes, and hardens evermore her hart.

What then can move her? if nor merth nor mone,

She is no woman, but a sencelesse stone.