O, poet gifted with sight divine!
To thee t’was given Eden’s groves to pace
With that first pair in whom the human race
Their kinship claim: and angels did decline-
Great Michael, holy Gabriel-to twine
Their heavenly logic, through which thou couldst trace
The rich outpourings of celestial grace
Mingled with argument, around the shrine
Where thou didst linger, vision-rapt, intent
To catch the sacred mystery of Heaven.
Nor was thy longing vain; a soul resolved
To ponder truth supreme to thee was lent;
For thy not sightless eyes the veil was riv’n,
Redemption’s problem unto thee
