Now he is sitting by a shady spring, And elbow-deep with feverous fingering, Stems the upbursting cold. For many passages where the magic of nature is mingled instinctively and inseparably with the magic of Greek mythology, the prayer of Endymion to Cynthia above quoted (p. 210) may serve as a sample: and all readers of poetry know the famous lines where the beautiful evocation of a natural scene melts into one, more beautiful still, of a scene of ancient life and worship which comes floated upon the poet's inner vision by an imagined strain of music from across the sea:-- It seem'd he flew, the way so easy was; And like a new-born spirit did he pass Through the green evening quiet in the sun, O'er many a heath, through many a woodland dun, Through buried paths, where sleepy twilight dreams The summer time away. One track unseams A wooded cleft, and, far away, the blue Of ocean fades upon him; then, anew, He sinks adown a solitary glen, Where there was never sound of mortal men, Saving, perhaps, some snow-light cadences Melting to silence, when upon the breeze Some holy bark let forth an anthem sweet, To cheer itself to Delphi.[2] Often in thus conjuring up visions of the classic past, Keats effects true master strokes of imaginative concentration. Do we not feel half the romance of the _Odyssey_, with the spell that is in the sound of the vowelled place-names of Grecian story, and the breathing mystery of moonlight falling on magic islands of the sea, distilled into the one line-- Aeaea's isle was wondering at the moon? And again in the pair of lines-- Like old Deucalion mountain'd o'er the flood Or blind Orion hungry for the morn, do not the two figures evoked rise before us full-charged each with the vital significance of his story? Mr de Selincourt is no doubt right in suggesting that in the Orion line Keats's vision has been stimulated by the print from that picture of Poussin's which Hazlitt has described in so rich a strain of eulogy.