Lotos Eaters Tennyson

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Lotos Eaters Tennyson



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The Lotos-Eaters : Alfred Lord Tennyson in Hindi

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All round the coast the languid air did swoon, Breathing like one that hath a weary dream. Above the valley burned the golden moon; And like a downward smoke, the slender stream Along the cliff to fall and pause and fall did seem. Slowdropping 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's seaward flow From the inner land: far off, three mountaintops, Three thundercloven thrones of oldest snow, Stood sunsetflushed: and, dewed with showery drops, Upclomb the shadowy pine above the woven copse.

In the red West: thro' 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 mildeyed melancholy Lotos-eaters came. 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.

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 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. Than petals from blown roses on the grass, Or nightdews 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. 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! 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! 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. 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. 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!

III Lo! 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. What is it that will last? All things are taken from us, and become Portions and parcels of the dreadful past. The scenery and experience influenced a few of his poems, including Oenone , The Lotus-Eaters and "Mariana in the South". These three poems, and some others, were later revised for Tennyson's collection.

In this revision Tennyson takes the opportunity to rewrite a section of The Lotus Eaters by inserting a new stanza before the final stanza. The new stanza describes how someone may have the feelings of wholeness even when there is great loss. It is alleged by some that the stanza refers to the sense of loss felt by Tennyson upon the death of Hallam in Template:Sister The mariners are put into an altered state when they eat the lotos. During this time, they are isolated from the world: [4]. The mariners explain that they want to leave reality and their worldly cares: [4]. The mariners demonstrate that they realize what actions they are committing and the potential results that will follow, but they believe that their destruction will bring about peace: [5].

Although the mariners are isolated from the world, they are connected in that they act in unison. This relationship continues until the very end when the narrator describes their brotherhood as they abandon the world: [6]. The form of the poem contains a dramatic monologue , which connects it to " Ulysses ", St. Simeon Stylites , and Rizpah. However, Tennyson changes the monologue format to allow for ironies to be revealed. However, the story of the mariners in Homer's work has an opposite theme than Tennyson's since the latter's mariners are able to recognize morality. With the connection to Spenser, Tennyson's story depicts the mariners as going against Christianity.

However, the reader is the one who is in the true dilemma, as literary critic James Kincaid argues, "The final irony is that both the courageous Ulysses and the mariners who eat the lotos have an easier time of it than the reader; they, at least, can make choices and dissolve the tension. Tennyson ironically invokes "The Lover's Tale" line , "A portion of the pleasant yesterday", in line 92 of The Lotos-Eaters : "Portions and parcels of the dreadful past".