The Lotos-eaters
“Courage!” he said, and pointed toward the land,
“This mounting wave will roll us shoreward soon.”
In the afternoon they came unto a land
In which it seemed always afternoon.
All round the coast the languid air did swoon,
Breathing like one that hath a weary dream.
Full-faced above the valley stood the moon;
And like a downward smoke, the slender stream
Along the cliff to fall and pause and fall did seem.
A land of streams! some, like a downward smoke,
Slow-dropping veils of thinnest lawn, did go;
And some thro’ wavering lights and shadows broke,
Rolling a slumbrous sheet of foam below.
They saw the gleaming river seaward flow
From the inner land: far off, three mountain-tops,
Three silent pinnacles of aged snow,
Stood sunset-flush’d: and, dew’d with showery drops,
Up-clomb the shadowy pine above the woven copse.
The charmed sunset linger’d low adown
In the red West: thro’ mountain clefts the dale
Was seen far inland, and the yellow down
Border’d with palm, and many a winding vale
And meadow, set with slender galingale;
A land where all things always seem’d the same!
And round about the keel with faces pale,
Dark faces pale against that rosy flame,
The mild-eyed melancholy Lotos-eaters came.
Branches they bore of that enchanted stem,
Laden with flower and fruit, whereof they gave
To each, but whoso did receive of them,
And taste, to him the gushing of the wave
Far far away did seem to mourn and rave
On alien shores; and if his fellow spake,
His voice was thin, as voices from the grave;
And deep-asleep he seem’d, yet all awake,
And music in his ears his beating heart did make.
They sat them down upon the yellow sand,
Between the sun and moon upon the shore;
And sweet it was to dream of Fatherland,
Of child, and wife, and slave; but evermore
Most weary seem’d the sea, weary the oar,
Weary the wandering fields of barren foam.
Then some one said, “We will return no more”;
And all at once they sang, “Our island home
Is far beyond the wave; we will no longer roam.”
CHORIC SONG
I
There is sweet music here that softer falls
Than petals from blown roses on the grass,
Or night-dews on still waters between walls
Of shadowy granite, in a gleaming pass;
Music that gentlier on the spirit lies,
Than tir’d eyelids upon tir’d eyes;
Music that brings sweet sleep down from the blissful skies.
Here are cool mosses deep,
And thro’ the moss the ivies creep,
And in the stream the long-leaved flowers weep,
And from the craggy ledge the poppy hangs in sleep.”
II
Why are we weigh’d upon with heaviness,
And utterly consumed with sharp distress,
While all things else have rest from weariness?
All things have rest: why should we toil alone,
We only toil, who are the first of things,
And make perpetual moan,
Still from one sorrow to another thrown:
Nor ever fold our wings,
And cease from wanderings,
Nor steep our brows in slumber’s holy balm;
Nor harken what the inner spirit sings,
“There is no joy but calm!”
Why should we only toil, the roof and crown of things?
III
Lo! in the middle of the wood,
The folded leaf is woo’d from out the bud
With winds upon the branch, and there
Grows green and broad, and takes no care,
Sun-steep’d at noon, and in the moon
Nightly dew-fed; and turning yellow
Falls, and floats adown the air.
Lo! sweeten’d with the summer light,
The full-juiced apple, waxing over-mellow,
Drops in a silent autumn night.
All its allotted length of days
The flower ripens in its place,
Ripens and fades, and falls, and hath no toil,
Fast-rooted in the fruitful soil.
IV
Hateful is the dark-blue sky,
Vaulted o’er the dark-blue sea.
Death is the end of life; ah, why
Should life all labour be?
Let us alone. Time driveth onward fast,
And in a little while our lips are dumb.
Let us alone. What is it that will last?
All things are taken from us, and become
Portions and parcels of the dreadful past.
Let us alone. What pleasure can we have
To war with evil? Is there any peace
In ever climbing up the climbing wave?
All things have rest, and ripen toward the grave
In silence; ripen, fall and cease:
Give us long rest or death, dark death, or dreamful ease.
V
How sweet it were, hearing the downward stream,
With half-shut eyes ever to seem
Falling asleep in a half-dream!
To dream and dream, like yonder amber light,
Which will not leave the myrrh-bush on the height;
To hear each other’s whisper’d speech;
Eating the Lotos day by day,
To watch the crisping ripples on the beach,
And tender curving lines of creamy spray;
To lend our hearts and spirits wholly
To the influence of mild-minded melancholy;
To muse and brood and live again in memory,
With those old faces of our infancy
Heap’d over with a mound of grass,
Two handfuls of white dust, shut in an urn of brass!
VI
Dear is the memory of our wedded lives,
And dear the last embraces of our wives
And their warm tears: but all hath suffer’d change:
For surely now our household hearths are cold,
Our sons inherit us: our looks are strange:
And we should come like ghosts to trouble joy.
Or else the island princes over-bold
Have eat our substance, and the minstrel sings
Before them of the ten years’ war in Troy,
And our great deeds, as half-forgotten things.
Is there confusion in the little isle?
Let what is broken so remain.
The Gods are hard to reconcile:
‘Tis hard to settle order once again.
There is confusion worse than death,
Trouble on trouble, pain on pain,
Long labour unto aged breath,
Sore task to hearts worn out by many wars
And eyes grown dim with gazing on the pilot-stars.
VII
But, propt on beds of amaranth and moly,
How sweet (while warm airs lull us, blowing lowly)
With half-dropt eyelid still,
Beneath a heaven dark and holy,
To watch the long bright river drawing slowly
His waters from the purple hill—
To hear the dewy echoes calling
From cave to cave thro’ the thick-twined vine—
To watch the emerald-colour’d water falling
Thro’ many a wov’n acanthus-wreath divine!
Only to hear and see the far-off sparkling brine,
Only to hear were sweet, stretch’d out beneath the pine.
VIII
The Lotos blooms below the barren peak:
The Lotos blows by every winding creek:
All day the wind breathes low with mellower tone:
Thro’ every hollow cave and alley lone
Round and round the spicy downs the yellow Lotos-dust is blown.
We have had enough of action, and of motion we,
Roll’d to starboard, roll’d to larboard, when the surge was seething free,
Where the wallowing monster spouted his foam-fountains in the sea.
Let us swear an oath, and keep it with an equal mind,
In the hollow Lotos-land to live and lie reclined
On the hills like Gods together, careless of mankind.
For they lie beside their nectar, and the bolts are hurl’d
Far below them in the valleys, and the clouds are lightly curl’d
Round their golden houses, girdled with the gleaming world:
Where they smile in secret, looking over wasted lands,
Blight and famine, plague and earthquake, roaring deeps and fiery sands,
Clanging fights, and flaming towns, and sinking ships, and praying hands.
But they smile, they find a music centred in a doleful song
Steaming up, a lamentation and an ancient tale of wrong,
Like a tale of little meaning tho’ the words are strong;
Chanted from an ill-used race of men that cleave the soil,
Sow the seed, and reap the harvest with enduring toil,
Storing yearly little dues of wheat, and wine and oil;
Till they perish and they suffer—some, ’tis whisper’d—down in hell
Suffer endless anguish, others in Elysian valleys dwell,
Resting weary limbs at last on beds of asphodel.
Surely, surely, slumber is more sweet than toil, the shore
Than labour in the deep mid-ocean, wind and wave and oar;
O, rest ye, brother mariners, we will not wander more.
The Lotos-eaters by Alfred Tennyson : Video Explanation
The Lotos Eaters Summary
Alfred, Lord Tennyson, one of the most famous Victorian poets, wrote The Lotos-Eaters. Tennyson was deeply influenced by classical literature, particularly Homer’s Odyssey, which inspired this poem. In addition to drawing from Homer’s Odyssey, Tennyson’s The Lotos-Eaters was also inspired by his personal experiences, particularly his trip to Spain with his close friend Arthur Hallam in 1830. During this journey, they visited the Pyrenees mountains, whose serene and otherworldly beauty left a deep impression on Tennyson. The tranquil landscapes, combined with the emotional impact of traveling with Hallam, likely influenced the poem’s vivid imagery of an idyllic, dreamlike land.
The poem was written in 1832 during Tennyson’s early poetic career. It reflects the Romantic fascination with exotic and dreamlike settings and the Victorian contemplation of human struggles.
The Lotos-Eaters was first published in 1833 in Tennyson’s collection Poems, Chiefly Lyrical. However, this early edition of the poem did not gain much attention or acclaim at the time. In 1842, Tennyson revised and republished the poem in his collection Poems (Volume II). This version is the one most widely read and appreciated today. The revisions added depth and polish to the imagery and themes, making the poem more impactful.
The poem represents a blend of Romanticism and Victorian introspection. Its publication helped establish Tennyson as one of the leading poets of his time, showcasing his ability to combine classical influences with modern themes of existential reflection and human weariness.
The poem begins with Odysseus and his weary sailors arriving at the shore of a strange and magical land. Their leader, Odysseus, encourages them by pointing toward the land, promising that the waves will soon bring them to safety. The sailors step onto a dreamlike land where it always seems to be afternoon—a time of calm and rest. The air feels heavy, as if it were part of a deep, unending dream. The moon shines above the valley, and a slender stream cascades down the cliffs, giving the landscape an ethereal quality.
The poet describes the land as tranquil and rich with streams that flow lazily, some like thin smoke and others like slumbering sheets of foam. The sailors see the river flowing out to the sea, surrounded by snow-capped mountains glowing under the sunset. This serene setting, with its shadowy pines and lush greenery, creates an atmosphere of timelessness. Everything in this land feels still, calm, and eternal—a stark contrast to the hardships of the sea that the sailors have endured.
The mysterious inhabitants of this land, the Lotos-eaters, approach the sailors. They carry branches of the lotus plant, which is adorned with flowers and fruits. The Lotos-eaters offer the sailors this enchanted plant. Those who eat it feel a deep sense of peace and forgetfulness. The struggles of their journey fade away, and their memories of home become distant. The sound of the sea seems far off, like a faint echo. The sailors sit on the golden sands, lost in a trance, no longer desiring to continue their journey or return to their homeland.
Choric Song: The Sailors Sing of Their Longing for Rest
The next part of the poem is the Choric Song, where the sailors express their feelings collectively. This section is divided into eight parts, each revealing their thoughts about life, toil, and the peace they find in the Lotos-land.
Section I: The Music of Lotos-Land
The sailors describe the enchanting beauty of the Lotos-land. They compare its soft, soothing music to petals falling from roses, dew settling on still waters, and the gentle rustling of leaves. This music calms their weary minds, like sleep easing tired eyes. The land is filled with cool moss, creeping ivy, and flowers growing in streams. Poppies hang over cliffs, symbolizing sleep and peace. The sailors feel that the Lotos-land is a paradise of rest, where they can escape the struggles of life forever.
Section II: Why Should We Toil?
The sailors question why they must suffer and work endlessly when everything else in nature rests. They see themselves as the “crown of creation” yet burdened with labor and sorrow. Birds, flowers, and streams do not toil; they live and fade peacefully. The sailors wonder why humans alone must endure such struggles, moving from one sorrow to another without rest. They long for calm and peace, rejecting the hardships of their journey.
Section III: Nature’s Restful Cycle
The sailors reflect on the natural cycle of life. Leaves grow, bask in the sun, turn yellow, and fall without worry. Fruits ripen and drop silently in the night. Flowers bloom, fade, and return to the earth. Everything in nature fulfills its purpose and finds rest. The sailors wish to follow this pattern, to live peacefully and accept their end without endless toil.
Section IV: The Futility of Life
The sailors lament the harsh realities of life, calling the blue sky and sea hateful. They see death as the inevitable end and question why life must be filled with labor and suffering. They feel that nothing lasts forever; everything they achieve is taken away by time. They ask to be left alone, rejecting the constant struggle against evil and hardship. To them, silence and rest are preferable to the endless turmoil of life.
Section V: Dreams and Forgetfulness
The sailors imagine themselves falling asleep in a half-dream, detached from the pains of the world. They want to spend their days eating the lotus, listening to the soothing waves, and dreaming of their past lives. They long to escape into memories of their childhood and loved ones, who are now gone. They feel that forgetting the world and living in peace is the only way to find happiness.
Section VI: Home Feels Like a Ghost
The sailors reflect on their homes and families but realize that everything has changed. Their hearths are cold, their children have grown, and they would feel like ghosts if they returned. They imagine that their absence has left confusion and loss behind. Returning to their old lives feels impossible and painful, so they choose to let go of these ties and stay in the Lotos-land.
Section VII: Eternal Rest
The sailors dream of lying under the trees of the Lotos-land, surrounded by soft winds, flowing rivers, and beautiful hills. They imagine being lulled into eternal rest, far away from human struggles. They find this idea sweeter than any labor or responsibility.
Section VIII: Swearing an Oath
The sailors take an oath to stay in the Lotos-land forever. They compare themselves to gods, living peacefully and detached from the chaos of the world. They recall the troubles of humanity—wars, disasters, and endless toil—and find comfort in the thought of escaping it all. They choose to live like the gods of the land, resting and free from worry. Together, they resolve never to return to their homeland or face the struggles of life again.
