So saying, her rash hand in evil hour Forth reaching to the Fruit, she pluck'd, she eat: Earth felt the wound, and Nature from her seat Sighing through all her Works gave signs of woe, That all was lost. Paradise lost, a poem. Pr. from the text of Tonson's correct ed. of 1711 - Pagina 263 door John Milton - 1801 Volledige weergave -
|