To pour the balm of kind looks on the wound,
If they be wounds which such sweet teaching makes,
Giving itself a pang for others’ sakes:
No want of faith, that chills with sidelong eye,
Hath she; no jealousy, no Levite pride
That passeth by upon the other side:
For in her soul there never dwelt a lie.
Right from the hand of God her spirit came
Unstained, and she hath ne’er forgotten whence
It came, nor wandered far from thence,