On whose breast are thither borne
All deceived, and each deceiver,
Through the gates of night and morn;
Through the year's successive portals;
Through the bounds which many a star
Marks, not mindless of frail mortals,
When his[262] light returns from far.
Thus when thou with Time hast travelled
Toward[263] the mighty gulf of things,
And the mazy stream unravelled[264]