Eep

Leafing through a notebook of mine that has wonderful specks of things I read or hear, I re-stumbled across this from when I was reading Milton's Paradise Lost, and how beautiful it was:

"What better can we do, than to the place
Repairing where he judg'd us, prostrate fall
Before him reverent, and there confess
Humbly our faults, and pardon beg, with tears
Watering the ground..."
X, 1086-1090