They, looking back, all the eastern side beheld Of Paradise, so late their happy seat, Waved over by that flaming brand, the gate With dreadful faces thronged and fiery arms: Some natural tears they dropped, but wiped them soon; The world was all before them, where to choose Their place of rest, and Providence their guide; They, hand in hand, with wandering steps and slow, Through Eden took their solitary way.

Solitude is sometimes best society.

There swift return Diurnal, merely to officiate light Round this opacous earth, this punctual spot.

Satan; so call him now, his former name Is heard no more in heaven.

Execute their airy purposes.

But pain is perfect misery, the worst Of evils, and excessive, overturns All patience.

Let none admire that riches grow in hell; that soil may best deserve the precious bane.