Earth felt the wound; and Nature from her seat, Sighing through all her works, gave signs of woe That all was lost.

I fled, and cry'd out, Death; Hell trembled at the hideous name, and sigh'd From all her caves, and back resounded, Death.

Beyond is all abyss, eternity, whose end no eye can reach.

Must I thus leave thee, Paradise?-thus leave Thee, native soil, these happy walks and shades?

Untwisting all the chains that tie The hidden soul of harmony.

So he with difficulty and labour hard Mov'd on, with difficulty and labour he.

What in me is dark Illumine, what is low raise and support, That to the height of this great argument I may assert eternal Providence, And justify the ways of God to men. 1 Paradise Lost. Book i. Line 22.