That was not bounded with my clothes or skin,
Or terminated with my sight, the sphere
Of which was bounded with the Heavens here:
But that did rather, like the subtile light,
Secured from rough and raging storms by night,
Break through the lanthorn's sides, and freely ray
Dispersing and dilating every way:
Whose steady beams too subtile for the wind,
Are such that we their bounds can scarcely find.
It did encompass, and possess rare things,