Quotes from work
The Lotos-Eaters

"The Lotos-Eaters" is a poem by Alfred Tennyson, 1st Baron Tennyson, published in Tennyson's 1832 poetry collection. It was inspired by his trip to Spain with his close friend Arthur Hallam, where they visited the Pyrenees mountains. The poem describes a group of mariners who, upon eating the lotos, are put into an altered state and isolated from the outside world. The title and concept derives from the lotus-eaters in Greek mythology.


Alfred, Lord Tennyson photo

“There is no joy but calm!”

Alfred, Lord Tennyson The Lotos-Eaters

Choric Song, st. 2
The Lotos-Eaters (1832)

Alfred, Lord Tennyson photo
Alfred, Lord Tennyson photo
Alfred, Lord Tennyson photo

“Death is the end of life; ah, why
Should life all labour be?”

Alfred, Lord Tennyson The Lotos-Eaters

Choric Song, st. 4
The Lotos-Eaters (1832)
Context: 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.

Alfred, Lord Tennyson photo
Alfred, Lord Tennyson photo
Alfred, Lord Tennyson photo

“What is it that will last?
All things are taken from us, and become
Portions and parcels of the dreadful past.”

Alfred, Lord Tennyson The Lotos-Eaters

Choric Song, st. 4
The Lotos-Eaters (1832)
Context: 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.

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