I was borne along by rough deadly winds
On the fish infested sea. Then on the tenth
Our squadron reached the land of the Lotus-eaters,
People who eat the lotus, mellow fruit and flower.
We disembarked on the coast, drew water there
And crewman snatched a meal by the swift ships.
Once we had our fill of food and drink I sent
A detail ahead, two picked men and a third, a runner,
To scout out who might live there-men like us perhaps,
Who live on bread? So off they went and soon enough they mingled among the natives, Lotus-eaters
Lotus-eaters
Who had no notion of killing my companions, not at all
They simply gave them the lotus to taste instead…
Any crewman who ate the lotus, the honey sweet fruit, lost all desire to send a message back, much less return,
Their only wish to linger there with the Lotus-eaters
Grazing on lotus, all memory of their journey home dissolved forever…
Homer: Circe and the Cyclops
