America! America!
God shed his grace on thee
Till paths be wrought through wilds of thought
By pilgrim foot and knee!

O matchless dignity of stainless thought!
Thus bitter seems to you the taste of Sin!
[tr. Boyd (1802), st. 2]

O clear conscience and upright
How doth a little sting wound thee sore!
[tr. Cary (1814)]

Oh, dignity of conscience, when complete,
How small will bitter make that once was sweet!
[tr. Bannerman (1850)]

O noble conscience, and without a stain,
How sharp a sting is trivial fault to thee!
[tr. Longfellow (1867)]

O conscience, dignified and pure, how bitter a sting is a small fault to thee!
[tr. Butler (1885)]

O conscience honourably pure, to thee
How is a little fault most bitterly shrived!
[tr. Minchin (1885)]

O conscience, upright and stainless, how bitter a sting to thee is little fault!
[tr. Norton (1892)]

O noble conscience and clear, how sharp a sting gives a little fault to thee!
[tr. Wicksteed (1899)]

O pure and noble conscience, how bitter a sting to thee is a little fault!
[tr. Sinclair (1939)]

O honourable conscience, clear and chaste,
How small a fault stings thee to bitter smart!
[tr. Binyon (1943)]

O noble conscience, clear and undefaced,
How keen thy self-reproach for one small slip!
[tr. Sayers (1955)]

O noble conscience without stain! how sharp
the sting of a small fault is to your sense!
[tr. Ciardi (1961)]

O pure and noble conscience, how bitter
a sting is a little fault to you!
[tr. Singleton (1973)]

O dignity of conscience, noble, chaste,
how one slight fault can sting you into shame!
[tr. Musa (1981)]

O conscience so precious and so clear,
How small a fault is a sharp tooth to you!
[tr. Sisson (1981)]

O pure and noble conscience, you in whom
each petty fault becomes a harsh rebuke!
[tr. Mandelbaum (1982)]

O worthy clear conscience, how bitter a bite to you is even a little fault!
[tr. Durling (2003)]

Such dignity of conscience, clear and clean,
bitten so keenly by so slight a fault!
[tr. Kirkpatrick (2007)]

O pure and noble conscience,
how bitter is the sting of your least fault!
[tr. Hollander/Hollander (2007)]

But O, how purest consciences are stung
By tiny faults, bitter on noble tongues!
[tr. Raffel (2010)]

The greatest human beings are always linked to their century by some weakness.
[tr. Hollingdale (1971)]

The superior man is distressed by his want of ability. He is not distressed by men's not knowing him.
[tr. Legge (1861), 15.18]

The trouble of the superior man will be his own want of ability: it will be no trouble to him that others do not know him.
[tr. Jennings (1895), 15.18]

A wise and good man should be distressed that he has no ability ; he should never be distressed that men do not take notice of him.
[tr. Ku Hung-Ming (1898), 15.18]

The noble man is pained over his own incompetency, he is not pained that others ignore him.
[tr. Soothill (1910), 15.18]

The proper man is irritated by his incapacities, not irritated by other people not recognizing him.
[tr. Pound (1933), 15.18]

A gentleman is distressed by his own lack of capacity; he is never distressed at the failure of others to recognize his merits.
[tr. Waley (1938), 15.18]

The perfect gentleman complains about his own inabilities; not about people’s ignorance of himself.
[tr. Ware (1950)]

The gentleman is troubled by his own lack of ability, not by the failure of others to appreciate him.
[tr. Lau (1979)]

The gentleman is pained at the lack of ability within himself; he is not pained at the fact that others do not appreciate him.
[tr. Dawson (1993)]

A gentleman resents his incompetence; he does not resent his obscurity.
[tr. Leys (1997)]

The gentleman worries about his incapability; he does not worry about men not knowing him.
[tr. Huang (1997)]

A gentleman worries about that he does not have the ability, does not worry about that others do not understand him.
[tr. Cai/Yu (1998), #403]

Exemplary persons (junzi) are distressed by their own lack of ability, not by the failure of others to acknowledge them.
[tr. Ames/Rosemont (1998)]

The gentleman takes it as a fault if he is incapable of something; he does not take it as a fault if others do not know him.
[tr. Brooks/Brooks (1998)]

The gentleman is distressed by his own inability, rather than the failure of others to recognize him.
[tr. Slingerland (2003)]

The gentleman is troubled by his own lack of ability. He is not troubled by the fact that others do not understand him.
[tr. Watson (2007)]

The gentleman is worried about his own lack of ability and not about the fact that others do not appreciate him.
[tr. Chin (2014)]

A Jun Zi is disappointed about his own incompetency. He is not distressed that he is not known by others.
[tr. Li (2020)]

To know ones prevailing fault. Every one hath one, that makes a counterpoise to his predominant perfection. And if it be backt by inclination, it rules like a Tyrant.
[Flesher ed. (1685)]

Know your chief fault. There lives none that has not in himself a counterbalance to his most conspicuous merit: if this be nourished by desire, it may grow to be a tyrant.
[tr. Jacobs (1892)]

Know your chief weakness. No one lives without some counterweight to even his greatest gift, which when petted, assumes tyranny.
[tr. Fischer (1937)]

Vices may very well be exalted, but not exalt. Some observe, that such a Heroe hath had such a Vice, but they consider not, that it was not that Vice which made him a Heroe. The example of great men is so good an Oratour, that it persuades one to infamous matters. Sometimes flattery hath affected even bodily defects, without observing, that though they be born with in great men, they are insupportable in the mean.
[Flesher ed. (1685)]

Vices may stand in high place, but are low for all that. Men can see that many a great man has great faults, yet they do not see that he is not great because of them. The example of the great is so specious that it even glosses over viciousness, till it may so affect those who flatter it that they do not notice that what they gloss over in the great they abominate in the lower classes.
[tr. Jacobs (1892)]

The vices may stand high, but they are not high: some see a great man afflicted with this vice or that; but they do not see, that is great not because of it but in spite of it. The portrait of the man high up is so convincing, that even his deformities persuade, wherefore flattery at times mimics them, not seeing, that if in the great such things are overlooked, in the small, they are looked down upon.
[tr. Fischer (1937)]

And why beholdest thou the mote that is in thy brother's eye, but considerest not the beam that is in thine own eye? Or how wilt thou say to thy brother, Let me pull out the mote out of thine eye; and, behold, a beam is in thine own eye? Thou hypocrite, first cast out the beam out of thine own eye; and then shalt thou see clearly to cast out the mote out of thy brother's eye.
[KJV (1611)]

Why do you observe the splinter in your brother’s eye and never notice the plank in your own? How dare you say to your brother, “Let me take the splinter out of your eye”, when all the time there is a plank in your own? Hypocrite! Take the plank out of your own eye first, and then you will see clearly enough to take the splinter out of your brother’s eye.
[JB (1966)]

Why, then, do you look at the speck in your brother's eye and pay no attention to the log in your own eye? How dare you say to your brother, 'Please, let me take that speck out of your eye,' when you have a log in your own eye? You hypocrite! First take the log out of your own eye, and then you will be able to see clearly to take the speck out of your brother's eye.
[GNT (1976)]

Why do you see the splinter that’s in your brother’s or sister’s eye, but don’t notice the log in your own eye? How can you say to your brother or sister, ‘Let me take the splinter out of your eye,’ when there’s a log in your eye? You deceive yourself! First take the log out of your eye, and then you’ll see clearly to take the splinter out of your brother’s or sister’s eye.
[CEB (2011)]

Why do you see the speck in your neighbor’s eye but do not notice the log in your own eye? Or how can you say to your neighbor, ‘Let me take the speck out of your eye,’ while the log is in your own eye? You hypocrite, first take the log out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to take the speck out of your neighbor’s eye.
[NRSV (2021 ed.)]

Yet am righte wrothe that any good should cum from such a sotte.
Good Homer now and then him himselfe will slumber well I wotte.
If that our woorke be longe and huge, so harde it is to kepe
Our selves wakinge, it is dispensed if sumtymes we do sleepe.
[tr. Drant (1567)]

[B]ut am more
Angry, if once I heare good Homer snore.
Though I confesse, that, in a long work, sleep
May, with some right, upon an Author creep.
[tr. Jonson (1640)]

But in long Works, Sleep will sometimes surprize,
Homer himself hath been observ'd to nodd.
[tr. Roscommon (1680)]

Yet hold it for a fault I can't excuse,
If honest Homer slumber o'er his muse;
Although, perhaps, a kind indulgent sleep
O'er works of length allowably may creep.
[tr. Francis (1747)]

Me, who am griev'd and vex'd to the extreme,
If Homer seem to nod, or chance to dream:
Tho' in a work of length o'erlabour'd sleep
At intervals may, not unpardon'd, creep.
[tr. Coleman (1783)]

Vex'd, on the other hand, if now and then
Short fits of slumber creep on Homer's pen:
Howbeit at times the noblest bard, I think,
In works of long attempt may fairly wink.
[tr. Howes (1845)]

And at the same time am I grieved whenever honest Homer grows drowsy. But it is allowable, that sleep should steal upon [the progress of] a long work.
[tr. Smart/Buckley (1853)]

While e'en good Homer may deserve a tap,
If, as he does, he drop his head and nap.
Yet, when a work is long, 'twere somewhat hard
To blame a drowsy moment in a bard.
[tr. Conington (1874)]

Nay, when good Homer drops into a nap,
His knuckles I feel half inclined to rap,
Though in long works 'tis no great sin, if sleep
O'er the tired poet now and then shall creep.
[tr. Martin (1881)]

Equally also does it vex me whenever illustrious Homer nods; yet is it lawful that sleep should creep in upon a lengthened production.
[tr. Elgood (1893)]

And yet I also feel aggrieved, whenever good Homer "nods," but when a work is long, a drowsy mood may well creep over it.
[tr. Fairclough (Loeb) (1926)]

Am I, then, to be indignant whenever good Homer nods? Yes, but it is natural for slumber to steal over a long work.
[tr. Blakeney; ed. Kramer, Jr. (1936)]

I also
find I get upset whenever worthy Homer dozes off,
but into works that long a little sleep must steal.
[tr. Fuchs (1977)]

I scowl, too,
Whene evern Homer nods, though Morpheus (yawn)
Can't be kept out of a really long poem.
[tr. Raffel (1983 ed.)]

It's true that it bothers me
When Homer nods, but, after all, it's true
That writers of such long works must drowse sometimes.
[tr. Ferry (2001)]

I even
feel aggrieved when Homer, the pattern of goodness, nods.
Sleep, however, is bound to creep in on a lengthy work.
[tr. Rudd (2005 ed.)]

And yet I’m displeased too when great Homer nods,
Somnolence may steal over a long work it’s true.
[tr. Kline (2015)]

A small deviation from the truth at the beginning multiplies itself ten thousand-fold.
[tr. Hankinson (2004)]