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Or if the Mind turn inward 'tis perplexed,
Lost in a gloom of uninspired research;
Meanwhile, the Heart within the Heart, the seat
Where Peace and happy Consciousness should dwell,
On its own axis restlessly revolves,
Yet nowhere finds the cheering light of truth.
Upon the breast of new-created Earth
Man walked; and when and wheresoe'er he moved,
Alone or mated, Solitude was not.
He heard, upon the wind, the articulate Voice
Of God; and Angels to his sight appeared,
Crowning the glorious hills of Paradise;
Or through the groves gliding like morning mist
Enkindled by the sun. He sate—and talked
With winged Messengers; who daily brought
To his small Island in the etherial deep
Tidings of joy and love.—From these pure Heights
(Whether of actual vision, sensible
To sight and feeling, or that in this sort
Have condescendingly been shadowed forth
Communications spiritually maintained,
And Intuitions moral and divine)
