each end in the development of an added phase in his power of loving. His experience as a shepherd delighting in the beauties of nature among them the Moon which he worships as a far removed goddess, an abstract ideal of beauty-leads to his vision of an unattainable personal ideal who loves him, and whom he loves with ardent devotion, but not with the whole possibilities of his nature. What he sees and hears and feels in the depths of the earth, the climax of which is his vision or dream of the love of Venus and Adonis, symbolizing the resurrection of Spring, develops the passionate desire for the possession of the one beloved, and upon this follows the most ecstatic meeting which has as yet occurred between Endymion and his mysterious goddess. What he sees and hears and feels in the depths of the sea, especially his magical work in reanimating myriads of dead lovers, develops in him a more human attitude toward love-the need to help and protect, and the need for the solace of daily tenderness and affection, which he has an immediate opportunity to experience. His struggle between these two aspects of love, spiritualizes his love for

his ideal, at the same time that it causes the blossoming of his larger nature. This is the last phase to be attained in his development, and the way for the perfect realization of his aspirations now opens. He is at last fitted to be the consort of his goddess, who has responded to him in every stage of his growth, and whose nature, combining the divine and the human, demanded this unfolding of Endymion's whole being before she could raise him to the spiritual plane by her side.

It is very possible that Keats did not distinctly formulate in his own mind any such ideal of growth for Endymion. There is a passage, however, in a letter to John Hamilton Reynolds, written the same spring that Endymion was published, which shows how in his thoughts about human life, he recognized there were different periods of development as distinctly marked off as the Earth and Sea regions in which Endymion goes through his experiences. He writes:

"I compare human life to a large mansion of many apartments, two of which I can only describe, the doors of the rest being as yet shut upon me-The first we

step into we call the infant or thoughtless Chamber, in which we remain as long as we do not think-We remain there a long while, and notwithstanding the doors of the second Chamber remain wide open, showing a bright appearance, we care not to hasten to it; but are at length imperceptibly impelled by the awakening of the thinking principle within us-We no sooner get into the second Chamber, which I shall call the Chamber of Maiden-Thought, than we become intoxicated with the light and the atmosphere, we see nothing but pleasant wonders, and think of delaying there forever in delight: However among the effects this breathing is father of is that tremendous one of sharpening one's vision into the heart and nature of Man-of convincing one's nerves that the world is full of Misery and Heartbreak, Pain, Sickness, and oppression-Whereby this Chamber of Maiden-Thought becomes gradually darkened, and at the same time, on all sides of it, many doors are set open-but all dark-all leading to dark passages. We see not the balance of good and evil -we are in a mist- we are now in that state.-We feel the burden of the Mystery."

In another letter written to Benjamin Bailey, during the composition of Endymion, he expresses himself so strongly on the side of sensation as opposed to thought that one wonders whether he had