Poured incense light far down the “Milky-Way,”
And o’er its misty pavement Cynthia flung
A thousand rainbows, like the wreathed bloom
Of bridal blossoms. Still they floated on,
Far through the starry armaments that sweep
In endless circle round the battlements
Of Paradise—an everlasting guard
High flaming round the Infinite;—at length,
Within the presence-chamber of the Blest,
They knelt before the Great Unchangeable,