XXVIII.

And from the gate thrown open issued beaming A beautiful and mighty Thing of Light,[515] Radiant with glory, like a banner streaming Victorious from some world-o'erthrowing fight: My poor comparisons must needs be teeming With earthly likenesses, for here the night Of clay obscures our best conceptions, saving Johanna Southcote,[516] or Bob Southey raving.[517]