O poet gifted with the sight divine!
To thee 'twas given Eden's groves to pace
With that first pair, in whom the human race
Their kinship claim: and angels did incline--
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
eyes the veil was riv'n,
Redemption's problem unto thee well solved.