As one who poring on a Grecian urn

恰似一个仔细端详希腊古瓮的人，

   Scans the fair shapes some Attic hand hath made,

扫视阿提卡之手塑造的美好形象，

   God with slim goddess, goodly man with maid,

男神与修长的女神，俊男与靓女，

And for their beauty’s sake is loth to turn

倾心于它们的美，不忍心离开

And face the obvious day, must I not yearn

而面对浅白的生活；难道我不能

   For many a secret moon of indolent bliss,

渴望一个慵懒的至福铸成的秘密月亮，

   When in midmost shrine of Artemis

当我在阿尔忒弥斯殿中央的神龛

I see thee standing, antique-limbed, and stern?

看见站立着冷峻的你，古典的躯干？

And yet—methinks I’d rather see thee play

可是——我内心深处更愿意看到你

   That serpent of old Nile, whose witchery

与古尼罗河的蛇怪嬉戏，它的魔法

Made Emperors drunken,—come, great Egypt, shake

让国王们沉醉，——来吧，伟大的埃及，

   Our stage with all thy mimic pageants!  Nay,

用你整个模仿的古装戏震撼我们！哦不，

   I am grown sick of unreal passions, make

我已厌倦了虚假的激情，且让

The world thine Actium, me thine Anthony!

世界成为你的亚克兴，我是你的安东尼！