As if reflected in a mirror clear,
What Heaven and Nature can make life to be;
O spirit gentle, where by faith we know
Indwell what doth thy countenance declare,
Love, Mercy, and Compassion, things so rare,
That never beauty hath combined them so;
The love to charm, the beauty to retain,
The tenderness, the pity, to uphold
By glances mild the soul that doubteth grace;
What mortal law, what custom doth ordain,