頌詩譯選
無信仰者得勢
這裏站着假冒為善者穿着暗褐衣衫，
一副安息日的面孔還帶着皺眉苦臉。
他說着現今這陰暗時代的故事陰暗，
這個可哀世界充滿着最可哀的罪犯；
皺紋的面頰上為別人的罪流着眼淚，
對他裏面的地獄就把眼睛閉上不看。
那邊是圓滑的聖職人員常挂着笑顏，
怕傷害罪人心地獄的警告他講不慣。
可怕的事情總沾不着他溫和的舌邊，
刺耳的真理會對高貴良善的人冒犯。
那奇異的“重生”，那循理派的“恩典”，
在他的心中，在他講章裏，都難以發現。
柏拉圖美好的故事他倒笨拙的講演，
陳腐的，爐邊談，道德劇，古板而可厭；
能夠下地獄的罪愆，救贖大愛的赦免，
在他的基督和聖經裏面都是那樣遙遠。
他說，人類應該停止犯罪那是最好不過，
如此就會有好的聲譽；內心也就有真平安。
他自然知道向上心不能驅使如此作，
但盼望他們仍然會樂於上到天堂。
每個禮拜他總不忘盡責任去作探訪，
巧言，滑稽，大笑；把私人的新聞重複傳講；
各樣煙薰的美食，對她的奶酪欣賞，
給她點着煙斗，並且把嬰孩抱在手上。
或住在大的城市裏，穿着漆亮的皮鞋，
修整的假髮，合身長衣，閃光的緊褲，
他躬身，談論政治，學禮儀舉止溫如；
最恭謹的詢問，最溫雅流暢的笑語；
富人諧語時高聲大笑，恭維講的故事；
對夫人們的時裝，注目，注目，再注目；
烹調精妙的火雞餐最適口美味果腹；
不必為禁食推卻，也可以忘記讀書：
但是從他們的教堂看到弟兄被逐出，
他咆哮着講真理，發天堂的語聲，
使罪咎導向撒但墜落路徑的心寒戰兢，
使腳步被吸引回轉，死亡的耳能聽。
他喊着：“讓愚昧人飢餓，我卻謹慎
在我的巢中舒適生活，也必舒適而終。”
在那裏站着無信仰者的現代品類，
被咒詛的栽子為地獄的種族。
他不像理神派，也不屬基督徒，
一切原則，和一切品德，他一應俱無。
對於他，所有都是一樣，不分善和惡，
耶和華，株庇特，喇嘛，或是鬼魔；
牟罕默德的喊叫，或以賽亞的唱詩；
印地安人的祝禳，或基督徒的頌歌。
對於他，所有自然的意欲都是好的，
他嗜欲燉肉，或摩和克人嗜欲流血，
生成不能知道，或愛，全然美好的思想，
也摸不着路徑飛翔到榮美的天堂。
但他最親愛的自己選擇大袞！去景仰；
去穿戴，去嬉戲，去賭咒，去酗酒，去嫖娼；
他去賽馬；或別人競賽，作手法欺騙；
他起誓，最快樂榮光是觀賞鬥雞場。
他的靈魂沒有穿着神聖的屬性，
只是美好鐘表彈簧在偉大的機器，
運作起來比睿騰豪斯的設計完美，
身體；人的主要部分；人，他自己；
人，是傑出的畜生最高貴的形體，
不披鬃毛的豬，沒有尾巴的大猴子。
他光榮的目的—交配，吃喝，和死，
作牡蠣的墳場，肥嫩閹雞的墓地。
德懷特（Timothy Dwight, 1752-1817）美國教牧，教育家，詩人。為美國神學家愛德務滋（Jonathan Edwards）之外孫，曾任耶魯大學（Yale University）校長。其孫同名Timothy Dwight亦任耶魯神學教授及校長。
The Triumph of Infidelity
Here stood Hypocrisy, in sober brown,
His sabbath face all sorrow'd with a frown.
A dismal tale he told of dismal times,
And this sad world brimfull of saddest crimes;
Furrowed his cheeks with tears for others' sin,
But closed his eyelids on the hell within.
There smiled the smooth Divine, unused to wound
The sinner's heart with hell's alarming sound.
No terrors on his gentle tongue attend,
No grating truths the nicest ear offend.
That strange "New Birth", that methodistic "Grace"
Nor in his heart, nor sermons, found a place.
Plato's fine tales he clumsily retold,
Trite, fireside, moral see-saws, dull as old;
His Christ and Bible placed at good remove
Guilt hell-deserving, and forgiving love.
'Twas best, he said, mankind should cease to sin;
Good fame required it; so did peace within.
Their honours, well he knew, would ne'er be driven;
But hoped they still would please to go to heaven.
Each week, he paid his visitation dues;
Coaxed, jested, laughed; rehearsed the private news;
Smoked with each goody, thought her cheese excelled;
Her pipe he lighted, and her baby held.
Or placed in some great town, with lacquered shoes,
Trim wig, and trimmer gown, and glistening hose,
He bowed, talked politics, learned manners mild;
Most meekly questioned, and most smoothly smiled;
At rich men's jests laughed loud, their stories praised;
Their wives' new patterns gazed, and gazed, and gazed;
Most daintily on pampered turkeys dined;
Nor shrunk with fasting, nor with study pined:
Yet from their churches saw his brethren driven
Who thundered truth and spoke the voice of heaven,
Chilled trembling guilt, in Satan's headlong path
Charmed the feet back, and roused the ear of death.
"Let fools", he cried, "starve on, while prudent I
Snug in my nest shall live, and snug shall die."
There stood the infidel of modern breed,
Blest vegetation of infernal seed.
Alike no Deist, and no Christian, he;
But from all principle, all virtue, free.
To him all things the same, as good or evil:
Jehovah, Jove, the Lama, or the Devil;
Mohammed's braying, or Isaiah's lays;
The Indian's pow-wows; or the Christian's praise.
With him all natural desires are good:
His thrist for stews; the Mohawk's thirst for blood,
Made not to know, or love, the all-beauteous mind
Or wing through heaven his path to bliss refined.
But his dear self, choice Dagon! to adore;
To dress, to game, to swear, to drink, to whore;
To race his steeds; or cheat, when others run;
Pit tortured cocks, and swear 'tis glorious fun.
His soul not clothed with attributes divine
But a nice watch-spring to that grand machine,
That work more nice than Rittenhouse can plan;
The body; man's chief part; himself, the man;
Man, that illustrious brute of noblest shape,
A swine unbristled, and an untailed ape.
To couple, eat, and die— his glorious doom:
The oyster's churchyard, and the capon's tomb.
Timothy Dwight, 1752-1817
American clergyman, educator & poet