There, on that throne, ... sat the prophet-chief,
The great Mokanna. O’er his features hung
The veil, the silver veil, which he had flung
In mercy there, to hide from mortal sight
His dazzling brow, till man could bear its light.
* * * * * * * * *
“’Tis time these features were uncurtained,
This brow whose light--oh, rare celestial light!--
Hath been reserved to bless thy favored sight ...
Turn now and look; then wonder, if thou wilt,