*ʪ
*scroll
scroll *
	And I was gazing on the surges prone,
	With many a scalding tear and many a groan,
	When at my feet emerg'd an old man's hand,
	Grasping this scroll, and this same slender wand.
	I knelt with pain--reached out my hand--had grasp'd
	Those treasures--touch'd the knuckles--they unclasp'd--
	I caught a finger: but the downward weight
	O'erpowered me--it sank. Then 'gan abate
	The storm, and through chill aguish gloom outburst
	The comfortable sun. I was athirst
	To search the book, and in the warming air
	Parted its dripping leaves with eager care.
	Strange matters did it treat of, and drew on
	My soul page after page, till well-nigh won
	Into forgetfulness; when, stupefied,
	I read these words, and read again, and tried
	My eyes against the heavens, and read again.
		[ Endymion, by John Keats ]
