Flowing Words

Blest pair of Sirens, pledges of Heav’ns joy,
Sphear-born harmonious Sisters, Voice, and Vers, 
Wed your divine sounds, and mixt power employ 
Dead things with inbreath’d sense able to pierce, 
And to our high-rais’d phantasie present,
That undisturbèd Song of pure content, 
Ay sung before the saphire-colour’d throne 
To him that sits theron 

At a Solemn Music (excerpt) — John MIlton