Abashed the devil stood and felt how awful goodness is and saw Virtue in her shape how lovely: and pined his loss
John MiltonEarth felt the wound; and Nature from her seat, Sighing through all her works, gave signs of woe That all was lost.
John MiltonHow sweetly did they float upon the wings Of silence through the empty-vaulted night, At every fall smoothing the raven down Of darkness till it smiled!
John Milton