Phlebas the Phoenician, a fortnight dead,
Forgot the cry of gulls, and the deep sea swell
And the profit and loss.


A current under sea
Picked his bones in whispers. As he rose and fell
He passed the stages of his age and youth
Entering the whirlpool.


Gentile or Jew
O you who turn the wheel and look to windward,                    
Consider Phlebas, who was once handsome and tall as you. 
 
 T.S. Elliot 
 
 'The Waste Land'