“O sovereign, virtuous, precious of all trees In Paradise! of operation blest To sapience, hitherto obscured, infamed, And thy fair fruit let hang, as to no end Created! but henceforth my early care, Not without song, each morning, and due praise, Shall tend thee, and the fertile burden ease Of thy full branches, offered free to all; Till, dieted by thee, I grow mature In knowledge, as the Gods who all things know; Though others envy what they cannot give⁠— For, had the gift been theirs, it had not here Thus grown! Experience, next to thee I owe, Best guide: not following thee, I had remained In ignorance: thou open’st Wisdom’s way, And giv’st access, though secret she retire. And I perhaps am secret; Heaven is high, High, and remote to see from thence distinct Each thing on Earth; and other care perhaps May have diverted from continual watch Our great Forbidder, safe with all his spies About him. But to Adam in what sort Shall I appear? Shall I to him make known As yet my change, and give him to partake