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Paradise Lost

John Milton

Let them direct, and down the Cliff as fast To the subjected Plaine; then disappeer’d. They looking back, all th’ Eastern side beheld Of Paradise, so late thir happie seat, Wav’d over by that flaming Brand, the Gate With dreadful Faces throng’d and fierie Armes: Som natural tears they drop’d, but wip’d them soon; The World was all before them, where to choose Thir place of rest, and Providence thir guide: They hand in hand with wandring steps and slow, Through _Eden_ took thir solitarie way. THE END.