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.