“My lady, God shall ask, ‘What daredst thou?’ (When my soul stands with all her acts reviewed;) ‘Thou passedst Heaven, into My sight, as now, To make Me of vain love similitude. To Me doth praise belong, And to the Queen of all the realm of grace Who endeth fraud and wrong.’ Then may I plead: ‘As though from Thee he came, Love wore an angel’s face: Lord, if I loved her, count it not my shame.’ ” ↩