Abashed the devil stood and felt how awful goodness is and saw Virtue in her shape how lovely: and pined his loss
John MiltonI fled, and cry'd out, Death; Hell trembled at the hideous name, and sigh'd From all her caves, and back resounded, Death.
John MiltonInnumerable as the stars of night, Or stars of morning, dewdrops which the sun Impearls on every leaf and every flower.
John Milton