“Onward we sailed, lamenting bitterly Our comrades slain, yet happy to escape From death ourselves. Nor did we put to sea In our good ships until we thrice had called Aloud by name each one of our poor friends Who fell in battle by Ciconian hands. The Cloud-compeller, Jove, against us sent The north-wind in a hurricane, and wrapped The earth and heaven in clouds, and from the skies Fell suddenly the night. With stooping masts Our galleys scudded; the strong tempest split And tore the sails; we drew and laid them down Within the ships, in fear of utter wreck, And toward the mainland eagerly we turned The rudders. There we lay two days and nights, Worn out with grief and hardship. When at length The fair-haired Morning brought the third day round, We raised the masts, and, spreading the white sails To take the wind, we sat us down. The wind Carried us forward with the pilot’s aid; And then should I have reached my native land Safely, had not the currents and the waves Of ocean and the north-wind driven me back, What time I strove to pass Maleia’s cape, And swept me to Cytherae from my course.
“Still onward driven before those baleful winds Across the fishy deep for nine whole days, On the tenth day we reached the land where dwell The Lotus-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 Lotus-eaters soon, who used No violence against their lives, but gave Into their hands the lotus 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 Lotus-eaters, and to feed Upon the lotus, 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 lotus, 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.