• She what was honour knew, And with obsequious majesty approv'd My pleaded reason. To the nuptial bower I led her blushing like the morn; all heaven And happy constellations on that hour Shed their selectest influence; the earth Gave sign of gratulation, and each hill; Joyous the birds; fresh gales and gentle airs Whisper'd it to the woods, and from their wings Flung rose, flung odours from the spicy shrub.

    John Milton, James Prendeville (1850). “Milton's Paradise Lost: With Copious Notes, Explanatory and Critical, Partly Selected from Addison, Bentley, Bowle ... [et Al.] and Partly Original”, p.246