The Lotos-Eaters
By Alfred Tennyson
“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 has a weary dream.
Full-faced above the valley stood the moon;
And like a downward smoke, the slender stream
Along the cliff seemed to fall and pause and fall again.A land of streams! Some, like a downward smoke,
Slow‑dropping veils of the thinnest light, did go;
And some through 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‑flushed: and, dew‑d, with showery drops,
Up‑climbed the shadowy pine above the woven copse.The charmed sunset lingered low and down
In the red West; through mountain clefts the dale was seen far inland,
And the yellow down bordered with palm, and many winding valleys
And meadows 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.Branches they bore of that enchanted stem,
Laden with flowers and fruit, which they gave to each;
But whoso received them tasted the gushing of the wave
Far, far away, seemed to mourn and rave on alien shores;
And if his fellow spoke, 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.They sat them down upon the yellow sand,
Between the sun and moon upon the shore;
Sweet was it to dream of Fatherland,
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 falls softer
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.II
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 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 down the air.
Lo! sweetened 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 drives 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 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‑hearted 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 has suffered 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 eaten 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, propped 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 through the thick‑twined vine—
To watch the emerald‑coloured water falling
Through many a woven acanthus‑wreath divine!
Only to hear and see the far‑off sparkling brine,
Only to hear were sweet, stretched 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:
Through 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,
Rolled to starboard, rolled 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 hurled
Far below them in the valleys, and the clouds are lightly curled
Round their golden houses, girdled with the gleaming world:
Where they smile over wasted lands, blight and famine, plague and earthquake,
Roaring deeps and fiery sands, clanging fights, and flaming towns.
But they smile, they find a music centred in a doleful song
Steaming up, a lamentation…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.
What Is “The Lotos‑Eaters” About?
Tennyson’s poem is a lyrical retelling of the Greek myth in which Odysseus’ crew lands on an island where the lotus plant makes them forget their homes and abandon all desire to return. The story is told through vivid, almost dream‑like imagery that shows how the sailors are seduced by the flower’s intoxicating scent and the promise of endless rest.
Central Message
The poem warns against succumbing to temptation when it threatens duty and purpose. It contrasts the vibrant, challenging life of a sailor with the quiet, seductive lull of the lotus land. The central idea is that true freedom and fulfillment come from staying committed to one’s responsibilities, even when faced with the allure of easy pleasure and escape. The poem is a meditation on the human desire for rest and the dangers of losing ambition and drive.
Key Literary Devices
- Imagery: Tennyson masterfully employs imagery, painting scenes of “languid air” and a “slumbrous sheet of foam,” to create a sensory world that feels both beautiful and dangerous. The repeated images of the moon, sea, and lotus plant help readers experience the island’s pull.
- Allusion: The poem draws upon Greek mythology—Odysseus, the lotus, and the sirens—connecting Tennyson’s modern audience to ancient cautionary tales about hubris and the dangers of succumbing to desire.
- Personification: Giving human qualities to natural elements like “the wave will roll us shoreward” enhances the sense that the sea itself is influencing the sailors’ fate.
- Repetition: Phrases such as “We will return no more” and the repeated use of “slumber” emphasize the growing resignation of the crew and the intoxicating power of the lotus.
- Contrast: The poem juxtaposes the vibrant life of the sea with the stillness of the lotus land, underscoring the tension between action and apathy.
- Symbolism: The lotus flower symbolizes temptation and the allure of escape. The sea represents freedom, duty, and the challenges of life, while the island embodies a trap of complacency and self‑indulgence.
How Each Part Contributes to the Message
- Opening Stanzas: The captain’s warning (“Courage!”) sets up the journey and hints at the challenges ahead. The description of the land as “always afternoon” foreshadows a timeless, unchanging state that will lure the sailors into a false sense of peace.
- The Lotos Description: By describing the lotus as “laden with flower and fruit,” Tennyson shows how it offers an irresistible gift—yet this gift is a trap. The sailors’ voices becoming “thin” signals their loss of self and connection to their former lives.
- The Choric Songs: Each song shifts the focus from the beauty of nature to the perceived futility of endless toil, mirroring the crew’s internal conflict. The repeated refrain about rest versus labor reinforces the central theme that true rest comes through fulfillment of duty, not through escapism.
- The Final Stanza: The closing lines—“Surely, surely, slumber is more sweet than toil”—summarize the poem’s moral: the temptation of easy rest is stronger than the hard work required to live a meaningful life. It also hints that the sailors have chosen to stay, illustrating the poem’s warning about the dangers of abandoning one’s responsibilities.
Why This Poem Matters for Readers
“The Lotos‑Eaters” teaches us that giving in to short‑term pleasures can lead to long‑term loss of purpose. It encourages us to think about our own choices: when is it healthy to rest, and when must we keep moving forward despite challenges? The poem’s rich language and enduring themes make it a powerful exploration of the human condition and a timeless reminder of the importance of duty, perseverance, and self‑discipline.
Conclusion
Alfred Tennyson’s “The Lotos‑Eaters” remains relevant because it captures the delicate balance between the desire for rest and the necessity of responsibility. The poem reminds us that while rest can be sweet, true fulfillment is found only in the pursuit of meaningful goals, even when the easy path seems alluring.