*****

As he spoke, to my eyes the Lights began to change in earnest. All the
sky (I call it sky for clearness) above the mighty Gates became as
it were alive with burning tongues of every colour that an artist can
conceive. By degrees these fiery tongues or swords shaped themselves
into a vast circle which drove back the walls of darkness, and through
this circle, guided, guarded by the spirits of dead suns, with odours
and with chantings, descended that crowned City of the Mansions before
whose glory imagination breaks and even Vision veils her eyes.

It descended, its banners wavering in the winds of prayer; it hung above
the Gates, the flowers of all splendours, Heaven's very rose, hung like
an opal on the boundless breast of night, and there it stayed.

The Voice in the North called to the Voice in the South; the Voice in
the East called to the Voice in the West, and up the Great White Road
sped the Angel of the Road, making report as he came that all his
multitude were gathered in and for that while the Road was barred.

He passed and in a flash the Gates were burned away. The ashes of them
fell upon the heads of those waiting at the Gates, whitening their faces
and drying their tears before the Change. They fell upon the Man and the
Hare beside me, veiling them as it were and making them silent, but
on me they did not fall. Then, from between the Wardens of the Gates,
flowed forth the Helpers and the Guardians (save those who already were
without comforting the children) seeking their beloved and bearing the
Cups of slumber and new birth; then pealed the question--