Sonnet 17
THE glorious poutraict of that angels face,
Made to amaze weake mens confuséd skil:
And this worlds worthlesse glory to embase[1],
What pen, what pencil, can expresse her fill[2]?
For though he colours could devize at will,
And eke his learnéd hand at pleasure guide:
Least[3], trembling, it his workmanship should spill[4],
Yet many wondrous things there are beside.
The sweet eye-glaunces, that like arrowes glide,
The charming smiles, that rob sence from the hart:
The lovely pleasance[5], and the lofty pride
Cannot expresséd be by any art.
A greater craftesmans hand thereto doth neede,
That can expresse the life of things indeed.
[1] embase:贬低。
[2] fill:充分地，完全地
[3] least:唯恐，免得
[4] spill:毁。
[5] pleasance:惬意愉悦。也指一座绿树成荫，供人散步或歇息的花园。
