eeded to the preceding remarks: "I have
lately read your 'Endymion' again, and even with a new sense of the
treasures of poetry it contains, though treasures poured forth with
indistinct profusion." As Shelley shared with Gifford the conviction
that it is difficult to read "Endymion" from book 1, line 1, to book 4,
line 1003, and as human nature has not changed essentially since the
time of that pre-eminent poet and that rather less eminent critic, I
daresay that there are at this day several Keats-enthusiasts who know
_in foro conscientiae_, though they may not avow in public, that they
have left "Endymion" unread, or only partially read. Others have perused
it, but have found in it so much "indistinct profusion" that they also
remain after a while with rather a vague impression of the course of the
story; although they agree with Gifford, and even exceed him in the
assurance, that "it seems to be mythological, and probably relates to
the loves of Diana and Endymion." As the poem is an extremely important
one in relation to the life-work of Keats, I think it may not be out of
place if I here give a succinct account of what the narrative really
amounts to. This may be all the more desirable as Keats has not followed
the convenient if prosaic practice of several other epic poets by
prefixing to the several books of his long poem an "argument" of their
respective contents.

_Book 1._ On a lawn within a forest upon a slope of Mount Latmos was
held one morning a festival to Pan. The young huntsman-chieftain
Endymion attended, but his demeanour betrayed a secret preoccupation
and trouble. After the rites were over, his sister Peona addressed him,
and gradually won him to open his heart to her. He told her that at a
certain spot by the river, one of his favourite haunts, he had lately
seen a sudden efflorescence of dittany and poppies (the flowers sacred
to Diana). He fell asleep there, and had a dream or vision of entering
the gates of heaven, seeing the moon in transcendent splendour, and then
being accosted by a woman or goddess lovely beyond words, who pressed
his hand. He seemed to faint, and to be upborne into the upper regions
of the sky, where he gave the beauty a rapturous kiss, and then they
both paused upon a mountain-side. Next he dreamed that he fell asleep.
This was the prelude to his actual waking out of the vision. Ever since
he had retained a mysterious sense that the dream had not been all a
dream. This was