and allusions to it are frequent. Tennyson's version of the fascinating story, found among his early poems, appears below.

.

THE LOTOS-EATERS.

From the "Odyssey," Book IX. BRYANT'S TRANS.

On the tenth day we reached the land where dwell
The Lotos-eaters, men whose food is flowers.
We landed on the mainland, and our crews
Near the fleet galleys took their evening meal.
And when we all had eaten and had drunk,
I sent explorers forth
two chosen men,

A herald was the third to learn what race

Of mortals nourished by the fruits of earth

Possessed the land. They went and found themselves
Among the Lotos-eaters soon, who used

No violence against their lives, but gave
Into their hands the lotos plant to taste.
Whoever tasted once of that sweet food
Wished not to see his native country more,
Nor give his friends the knowledge of his fate.
And then my messengers desired to dwell
Among the Lotos-eaters, and to feed
Upon the lotos, never to return.

By force I led them weeping to the fleet,
And bound them in the hollow ships beneath
The benches. Then I ordered all the rest

Of my beloved comrades to embark

In haste, lest, tasting of the lotos, they

Should think no more of home. All straightway went
On board, and on the benches took their place,
And smote the hoary ocean with their oars.

*

THE LOTOS-EATERS.

TENNYSON.

I.

"Courage!" he said, and pointed toward the land, "This mounting wave will bear us shoreward soon." In the afternoon they came unto a land

In which it seeméd always afternoon.

All round the coast the fragrant 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.

II.

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 sheen of slumbrous foam below.
They saw the gleaming river onward flow

From the inner land: far off three mountain-tops,
Three silent pinnacles of aged snow,

Stood sunset-flushed, and, dewed with showery drops, Up-clomb the shadowy pine above the woven copse.

III.

The charméd sunset lingered low adown

In the red West: through mountain clefts the dale Was seen far inland, and the yellow down

Bordered with palm, and many a winding vale

And meadow, set with slender galingale ;

A land where all things always seemed the same.
And round about the keel with faces pale,
Dark faces pale against that rosy flame,

The mild-eyed melancholy Lotos-eaters came.

IV.

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 seemed, yet all awake,
And music in his ears his beating heart did make.

V.

They sat them down upon the yellow sand,
Before the sun and moon upon the shore;
And sweet it was to dream of Father-land,

Of child and wife and slave; but evermore
Most weary seemed 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 tired eyelids upon tired eyes;

Music that brings sweet sleep down from the blissful skies.

Here are cool mosses deep,

And through the moss the ivies creep,

And in the stream the long-leaved flowers weep,
And from the craggy ledge the poppy hangs in sleep.

2.

Why are we weighed 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 hearken what the inner spirit sings,

"There is no joy but calm!"

Why should we only toil, the roof and crown of things?

3.

Lo! in the middle of the wood,

The folded leaf is wooed from out the bud

With winds upon the branch, and there

Grows green

and broad, and takes no care

Sun-steeped 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.

4.

Hateful is the dark blue sky,

Vaulted o'er the dark blue sea.

Death is the end of life; ah, why

Should life all labor be?

Let us alone.

And in a little
Let us alone.

Time driveth onward fast,

while our lips are dumb.

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.

5.

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 whispered 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!