Ulysses by James Joyce

Leopold Bloom Telemachus
Scylla and Charybdis
Wandering Rocks
Oxen of the Sun

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Ulysses by James Joyce.
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[1812]     Ineluctable modality of the visible: at least that if no more, thought
[1813]     through my eyes. Signatures of all things I am here to read, seaspawn and
[1814]     seawrack, the nearing tide, that rusty boot. Snotgreen, bluesilver, rust:
[1815]     coloured signs. Limits of the diaphane. But he adds: in bodies. Then he
[1816]     was aware of them bodies before of them coloured. How? By knocking his
[1817]     sconce against them, sure. Go easy. Bald he was and a millionaire, MAESTRO
[1818]     DI COLOR CHE SANNO. Limit of the diaphane in. Why in? Diaphane,
[1819]     adiaphane. If you can put your five fingers through it it is a gate, if
[1820]     not a door. Shut your eyes and see.
[1822]     Stephen closed his eyes to hear his boots crush crackling wrack and
[1823]     shells. You are walking through it howsomever. I am, a stride at a time. A
[1824]     very short space of time through very short times of space. Five, six: the
[1825]     NACHEINANDER. Exactly: and that is the ineluctable modality of the
[1826]     audible. Open your eyes. No. Jesus! If I fell over a cliff that beetles
[1827]     o'er his base, fell through the NEBENEINANDER ineluctably! I am getting on
[1828]     nicely in the dark. My ash sword hangs at my side. Tap with it: they do.
[1829]     My two feet in his boots are at the ends of his legs, NEBENEINANDER.
[1830]     Sounds solid: made by the mallet of LOS DEMIURGOS. Am I walking into
[1831]     eternity along Sandymount strand? Crush, crack, crick, crick. Wild sea
[1832]     money. Dominie Deasy kens them a'.
[1836]         MADELINE THE MARE?
[1839]     Rhythm begins, you see. I hear. Acatalectic tetrameter of iambs
[1840]     marching. No, agallop: DELINE THE MARE.
[1842]     Open your eyes now. I will. One moment. Has all vanished since? If I
[1843]     open and am for ever in the black adiaphane. BASTA! I will see if I can
[1844]     see.
[1846]     See now. There all the time without you: and ever shall be, world
[1847]     without end.
[1849]     They came down the steps from Leahy's terrace prudently,
[1850]     FRAUENZIMMER: and down the shelving shore flabbily, their splayed feet
[1851]     sinking in the silted sand. Like me, like Algy, coming down to our mighty
[1852]     mother. Number one swung lourdily her midwife's bag, the other's gamp
[1853]     poked in the beach. From the liberties, out for the day. Mrs Florence
[1854]     MacCabe, relict of the late Patk MacCabe, deeply lamented, of Bride
[1855]     Street. One of her sisterhood lugged me squealing into life. Creation from
[1856]     nothing. What has she in the bag? A misbirth with a trailing navelcord,
[1857]     hushed in ruddy wool. The cords of all link back, strandentwining cable of
[1858]     all flesh. That is why mystic monks. Will you be as gods? Gaze in your
[1859]     OMPHALOS. Hello! Kinch here. Put me on to Edenville. Aleph, alpha: nought,
[1860]     nought, one.
[1862]     Spouse and helpmate of Adam Kadmon: Heva, naked Eve. She had
[1863]     no navel. Gaze. Belly without blemish, bulging big, a buckler of taut
[1864]     vellum, no, whiteheaped corn, orient and immortal, standing from
[1865]     everlasting to everlasting. Womb of sin.
[1867]     Wombed in sin darkness I was too, made not begotten. By them, the
[1868]     man with my voice and my eyes and a ghostwoman with ashes on her
[1869]     breath. They clasped and sundered, did the coupler's will. From before the
[1870]     ages He willed me and now may not will me away or ever. A LEX ETERNA
[1871]     stays about Him. Is that then the divine substance wherein Father and Son
[1872]     are consubstantial? Where is poor dear Arius to try conclusions? Warring
[1873]     his life long upon the contransmagnificandjewbangtantiality. Illstarred
[1874]     heresiarch' In a Greek watercloset he breathed his last: euthanasia. With
[1875]     beaded mitre and with crozier, stalled upon his throne, widower of a
[1876]     widowed see, with upstiffed omophorion, with clotted hinderparts.
[1878]     Airs romped round him, nipping and eager airs. They are coming,
[1879]     waves. The whitemaned seahorses, champing, brightwindbridled, the steeds
[1880]     of Mananaan.
[1882]     I mustn't forget his letter for the press. And after? The Ship, half
[1883]     twelve. By the way go easy with that money like a good young imbecile.
[1885]     Yes, I must.
[1887]     His pace slackened. Here. Am I going to aunt Sara's or not? My
[1888]     consubstantial father's voice. Did you see anything of your artist brother
[1889]     Stephen lately? No? Sure he's not down in Strasburg terrace with his aunt
[1891]     Sally? Couldn't he fly a bit higher than that, eh? And and and and tell
[1892]     us, Stephen, how is uncle Si? O, weeping God, the things I married into!
[1893]     De boys up in de hayloft. The drunken little costdrawer and his brother,
[1894]     the cornet player. Highly respectable gondoliers! And skeweyed Walter
[1895]     sirring his father, no less! Sir. Yes, sir. No, sir. Jesus wept: and no
[1896]     wonder, by Christ!
[1898]     I pull the wheezy bell of their shuttered cottage: and wait. They take
[1899]     me for a dun, peer out from a coign of vantage.
[1901]     --It's Stephen, sir.
[1903]     --Let him in. Let Stephen in.
[1905]     A bolt drawn back and Walter welcomes me.
[1907]     --We thought you were someone else.
[1909]     In his broad bed nuncle Richie, pillowed and blanketed, extends over
[1910]     the hillock of his knees a sturdy forearm. Cleanchested. He has washed the
[1911]     upper moiety.
[1913]     --Morrow, nephew.
[1915]     He lays aside the lapboard whereon he drafts his bills of costs for the
[1916]     eyes of master Goff and master Shapland Tandy, filing consents and
[1917]     common searches and a writ of DUCES TECUM. A bogoak frame over his bald
[1918]     head: Wilde's REQUIESCAT. The drone of his misleading whistle brings
[1919]     Walter back.
[1921]     --Yes, sir?
[1923]     --Malt for Richie and Stephen, tell mother. Where is she?
[1925]     --Bathing Crissie, sir.
[1927]     Papa's little bedpal. Lump of love.
[1929]     --No, uncle Richie ...
[1931]     --Call me Richie. Damn your lithia water. It lowers. Whusky!
[1933]     --Uncle Richie, really ...
[1935]     --Sit down or by the law Harry I'll knock you down.
[1937]     Walter squints vainly for a chair.
[1939]     --He has nothing to sit down on, sir.
[1941]     --He has nowhere to put it, you mug. Bring in our chippendale chair.
[1942]     Would you like a bite of something? None of your damned lawdeedaw airs
[1943]     here. The rich of a rasher fried with a herring? Sure? So much the better.
[1944]     We have nothing in the house but backache pills.
[1946]     ALL'ERTA!
[1948]     He drones bars of Ferrando's ARIA DI SORTITA. The grandest number,
[1949]     Stephen, in the whole opera. Listen.
[1951]     His tuneful whistle sounds again, finely shaded, with rushes of the air,
[1952]     his fists bigdrumming on his padded knees.
[1954]     This wind is sweeter.
[1956]     Houses of decay, mine, his and all. You told the Clongowes gentry
[1957]     you had an uncle a judge and an uncle a general in the army. Come out of
[1958]     them, Stephen. Beauty is not there. Nor in the stagnant bay of Marsh's
[1959]     library where you read the fading prophecies of Joachim Abbas. For
[1960]     whom? The hundredheaded rabble of the cathedral close. A hater of his
[1961]     kind ran from them to the wood of madness, his mane foaming in the
[1962]     moon, his eyeballs stars. Houyhnhnm, horsenostrilled. The oval equine
[1963]     faces, Temple, Buck Mulligan, Foxy Campbell, Lanternjaws. Abbas father,--
[1964]     furious dean, what offence laid fire to their brains? Paff! DESCENDE,
[1965]     CALVE, UT NE AMPLIUS DECALVERIS. A garland of grey hair on his comminated
[1966]     head see him me clambering down to the footpace (DESCENDE!), clutching a
[1967]     monstrance, basiliskeyed. Get down, baldpoll! A choir gives back menace
[1968]     and echo, assisting about the altar's horns, the snorted Latin of
[1969]     jackpriests moving burly in their albs, tonsured and oiled and gelded, fat
[1970]     with the fat of kidneys of wheat.
[1972]     And at the same instant perhaps a priest round the corner is elevating it.
[1973]     Dringdring! And two streets off another locking it into a pyx.
[1974]     Dringadring! And in a ladychapel another taking housel all to his own
[1975]     cheek. Dringdring! Down, up, forward, back. Dan Occam thought of that,
[1976]     invincible doctor. A misty English morning the imp hypostasis tickled his
[1977]     brain. Bringing his host down and kneeling he heard twine with his second
[1978]     bell the first bell in the transept (he is lifting his) and, rising, heard
[1979]     (now I am lifting) their two bells (he is kneeling) twang in diphthong.
[1981]     Cousin Stephen, you will never be a saint. Isle of saints. You were
[1982]     awfully holy, weren't you? You prayed to the Blessed Virgin that you might
[1983]     not have a red nose. You prayed to the devil in Serpentine avenue that the
[1984]     fubsy widow in front might lift her clothes still more from the wet
[1985]     street. O SI, CERTO! Sell your soul for that, do, dyed rags pinned round a
[1986]     squaw. More tell me, more still!! On the top of the Howth tram alone
[1987]     crying to the rain: Naked women! NAKED WOMEN! What about that, eh?
[1989]     What about what? What else were they invented for?
[1991]     Reading two pages apiece of seven books every night, eh? I was
[1992]     young. You bowed to yourself in the mirror, stepping forward to applause
[1993]     earnestly, striking face. Hurray for the Goddamned idiot! Hray! No-one
[1994]     saw: tell no-one. Books you were going to write with letters for titles.
[1995]     Have you read his F? O yes, but I prefer Q. Yes, but W is wonderful.
[1996]     O yes, W. Remember your epiphanies written on green oval leaves, deeply
[1997]     deep, copies to be sent if you died to all the great libraries of the
[1998]     world, including Alexandria? Someone was to read them there after a few
[1999]     thousand years, a mahamanvantara. Pico della Mirandola like. Ay, very like
[2000]     a whale. When one reads these strange pages of one long gone one feels
[2001]     that one is at one with one who once ...
[2003]     The grainy sand had gone from under his feet. His boots trod again a
[2004]     damp crackling mast, razorshells, squeaking pebbles, that on the
[2005]     unnumbered pebbles beats, wood sieved by the shipworm, lost Armada.
[2006]     Unwholesome sandflats waited to suck his treading soles, breathing upward
[2007]     sewage breath, a pocket of seaweed smouldered in seafire under a midden
[2008]     of man's ashes. He coasted them, walking warily. A porterbottle stood up,
[2009]     stogged to its waist, in the cakey sand dough. A sentinel: isle of
[2010]     dreadful thirst. Broken hoops on the shore; at the land a maze of dark
[2011]     cunning nets; farther away chalkscrawled backdoors and on the higher beach
[2012]     a dryingline with two crucified shirts. Ringsend: wigwams of brown
[2013]     steersmen and master mariners. Human shells.
[2015]     He halted. I have passed the way to aunt Sara's. Am I not going
[2016]     there? Seems not. No-one about. He turned northeast and crossed the
[2017]     firmer sand towards the Pigeonhouse.
[2021]     --C'EST LE PIGEON, JOSEPH.
[2023]     Patrice, home on furlough, lapped warm milk with me in the bar
[2024]     MacMahon. Son of the wild goose, Kevin Egan of Paris. My father's a bird,
[2025]     he lapped the sweet LAIT CHAUD with pink young tongue, plump bunny's face.
[2026]     Lap, LAPIN. He hopes to win in the GROS LOTS. About the nature of women he
[2027]     read in Michelet. But he must send me LA VIE DE JESUS by M. Leo Taxil.
[2028]     Lent it to his friend.
[2033]     --IL CROIT?
[2035]     --MON PERE, OUI.
[2037]     SCHLUSS. He laps.
[2039]     My Latin quarter hat. God, we simply must dress the character. I
[2040]     want puce gloves. You were a student, weren't you? Of what in the other
[2041]     devil's name? Paysayenn. P. C. N., you know: PHYSIQUES, CHIMIQUES ET
[2042]     NATURELLES. Aha. Eating your groatsworth of MOU EN CIVET, fleshpots of
[2043]     Egypt, elbowed by belching cabmen. Just say in the most natural tone:
[2044]     when I was in Paris; BOUL' MICH', I used to. Yes, used to carry punched
[2045]     tickets to prove an alibi if they arrested you for murder somewhere.
[2046]     Justice. On the night of the seventeenth of February 1904 the prisoner was
[2047]     seen by two witnesses. Other fellow did it: other me. Hat, tie, overcoat,
[2048]     nose. LUI, C'EST MOI. You seem to have enjoyed yourself.
[2050]     Proudly walking. Whom were you trying to walk like? Forget: a
[2051]     dispossessed. With mother's money order, eight shillings, the banging door
[2052]     of the post office slammed in your face by the usher. Hunger toothache.
[2053]     ENCORE DEUX MINUTES. Look clock. Must get. FERME. Hired dog! Shoot him
[2054]     to bloody bits with a bang shotgun, bits man spattered walls all brass
[2055]     buttons. Bits all khrrrrklak in place clack back. Not hurt? O, that's all
[2056]     right. Shake hands. See what I meant, see? O, that's all right. Shake a
[2057]     shake. O, that's all only all right.
[2059]     You were going to do wonders, what? Missionary to Europe after
[2060]     fiery Columbanus. Fiacre and Scotus on their creepystools in heaven spilt
[2061]     from their pintpots, loudlatinlaughing: EUGE! EUGE! Pretending to speak
[2062]     broken English as you dragged your valise, porter threepence, across the
[2063]     slimy pier at Newhaven. COMMENT? Rich booty you brought back; LE TUTU,
[2064]     five tattered numbers of PANTALON BLANC ET CULOTTE ROUGE; a blue
[2065]     French telegram, curiosity to show:
[2067]     --Mother dying come home father.
[2069]     The aunt thinks you killed your mother. That's why she won't.
[2078]     His feet marched in sudden proud rhythm over the sand furrows,
[2079]     along by the boulders of the south wall. He stared at them proudly, piled
[2080]     stone mammoth skulls. Gold light on sea, on sand, on boulders. The sun is
[2081]     there, the slender trees, the lemon houses.
[2083]     Paris rawly waking, crude sunlight on her lemon streets. Moist pith of
[2084]     farls of bread, the froggreen wormwood, her matin incense, court the air.
[2085]     Belluomo rises from the bed of his wife's lover's wife, the kerchiefed
[2086]     housewife is astir, a saucer of acetic acid in her hand. In Rodot's Yvonne
[2087]     and Madeleine newmake their tumbled beauties, shattering with gold teeth
[2088]     CHAUSSONS of pastry, their mouths yellowed with the PUS of FLAN BRETON.
[2089]     Faces of Paris men go by, their wellpleased pleasers, curled
[2090]     conquistadores.
[2092]     Noon slumbers. Kevin Egan rolls gunpowder cigarettes through
[2093]     fingers smeared with printer's ink, sipping his green fairy as Patrice his
[2094]     white. About us gobblers fork spiced beans down their gullets. UN DEMI
[2095]     SETIER! A jet of coffee steam from the burnished caldron. She serves me at
[2097]     IRLANDE, VOUS SAVEZ AH, OUI! She thought you wanted a cheese HOLLANDAIS.
[2098]     Your postprandial, do you know that word? Postprandial. There was a
[2099]     fellow I knew once in Barcelona, queer fellow, used to call it his
[2100]     postprandial. Well: SLAINTE! Around the slabbed tables the tangle of wined
[2101]     breaths and grumbling gorges. His breath hangs over our saucestained
[2102]     plates, the green fairy's fang thrusting between his lips. Of Ireland, the
[2103]     Dalcassians, of hopes, conspiracies, of Arthur Griffith now, A E,
[2104]     pimander, good shepherd of men. To yoke me as his yokefellow, our crimes
[2105]     our common cause. You're your father's son. I know the voice. His fustian
[2106]     shirt, sanguineflowered, trembles its Spanish tassels at his secrets. M.
[2107]     Drumont, famous journalist, Drumont, know what he called queen
[2108]     Victoria? Old hag with the yellow teeth. VIEILLE OGRESSE with the DENTS
[2109]     JAUNES. Maud Gonne, beautiful woman, LA PATRIE, M. Millevoye, Felix
[2110]     Faure, know how he died? Licentious men. The froeken, BONNE A TOUT FAIRE,
[2111]     who rubs male nakedness in the bath at Upsala. MOI FAIRE, she said, TOUS
[2112]     LES MESSIEURS. Not this MONSIEUR, I said. Most licentious custom. Bath a
[2113]     most private thing. I wouldn't let my brother, not even my own brother,
[2114]     most lascivious thing. Green eyes, I see you. Fang, I feel. Lascivious
[2115]     people.
[2117]     The blue fuse burns deadly between hands and burns clear. Loose
[2118]     tobaccoshreds catch fire: a flame and acrid smoke light our corner. Raw
[2119]     facebones under his peep of day boy's hat. How the head centre got away,
[2120]     authentic version. Got up as a young bride, man, veil, orangeblossoms,
[2121]     drove out the road to Malahide. Did, faith. Of lost leaders, the betrayed,
[2122]     wild escapes. Disguises, clutched at, gone, not here.
[2124]     Spurned lover. I was a strapping young gossoon at that time, I tell
[2125]     you. I'll show you my likeness one day. I was, faith. Lover, for her love
[2126]     he prowled with colonel Richard Burke, tanist of his sept, under the walls
[2127]     of Clerkenwell and, crouching, saw a flame of vengeance hurl them upward
[2128]     in the fog. Shattered glass and toppling masonry. In gay Paree he hides,
[2129]     Egan of Paris, unsought by any save by me. Making his day's stations, the
[2130]     dingy printingcase, his three taverns, the Montmartre lair he sleeps short
[2131]     night in, rue de la Goutte-d'Or, damascened with flyblown faces of the
[2132]     gone. Loveless, landless, wifeless. She is quite nicey comfy without her
[2133]     outcast man, madame in rue Git-le-Coeur, canary and two buck lodgers.
[2134]     Peachy cheeks, a zebra skirt, frisky as a young thing's. Spurned and
[2135]     undespairing. Tell Pat you saw me, won't you? I wanted to get poor Pat a
[2136]     job one time. MON FILS, soldier of France. I taught him to sing THE BOYS
[2137]     OF KILKENNY ARE STOUT ROARING BLADES. Know that old lay? I taught Patrice
[2138]     that. Old Kilkenny: saint Canice, Strongbow's castle on the Nore. Goes
[2139]     like this. O, O. He takes me, Napper Tandy, by the hand.
[2142]         O, O THE BOYS OF
[2143]         KILKENNY ...
[2146]     Weak wasting hand on mine. They have forgotten Kevin Egan, not he
[2147]     them. Remembering thee, O Sion.
[2149]     He had come nearer the edge of the sea and wet sand slapped his
[2150]     boots. The new air greeted him, harping in wild nerves, wind of wild air
[2151]     of seeds of brightness. Here, I am not walking out to the Kish lightship,
[2152]     am I? He stood suddenly, his feet beginning to sink slowly in the quaking
[2153]     soil. Turn back.
[2155]     Turning, he scanned the shore south, his feet sinking again slowly in
[2156]     new sockets. The cold domed room of the tower waits. Through the
[2157]     barbacans the shafts of light are moving ever, slowly ever as my feet are
[2158]     sinking, creeping duskward over the dial floor. Blue dusk, nightfall, deep
[2159]     blue night. In the darkness of the dome they wait, their pushedback
[2160]     chairs, my obelisk valise, around a board of abandoned platters. Who to
[2161]     clear it? He has the key. I will not sleep there when this night comes.
[2162]     A shut door of a silent tower, entombing their--blind bodies, the
[2163]     panthersahib and his pointer. Call: no answer. He lifted his feet up from
[2164]     the suck and turned back by the mole of boulders. Take all, keep all. My
[2165]     soul walks with me, form of forms. So in the moon's midwatches I pace the
[2166]     path above the rocks, in sable silvered, hearing Elsinore's tempting
[2167]     flood.
[2169]     The flood is following me. I can watch it flow past from here. Get
[2170]     back then by the Poolbeg road to the strand there. He climbed over the
[2171]     sedge and eely oarweeds and sat on a stool of rock, resting his ashplant
[2172]     in a grike.
[2174]     A bloated carcass of a dog lay lolled on bladderwrack. Before him the
[2175]     gunwale of a boat, sunk in sand. UN COCHE ENSABLE Louis Veuillot called
[2176]     Gautier's prose. These heavy sands are language tide and wind have silted
[2177]     here. And these, the stoneheaps of dead builders, a warren of weasel rats.
[2178]     Hide gold there. Try it. You have some. Sands and stones. Heavy of the
[2179]     past. Sir Lout's toys. Mind you don't get one bang on the ear. I'm the
[2180]     bloody well gigant rolls all them bloody well boulders, bones for my
[2181]     steppingstones. Feefawfum. I zmellz de bloodz odz an Iridzman.
[2183]     A point, live dog, grew into sight running across the sweep of sand.
[2184]     Lord, is he going to attack me? Respect his liberty. You will not be
[2185]     master of others or their slave. I have my stick. Sit tight. From farther
[2186]     away, walking shoreward across from the crested tide, figures, two. The
[2187]     two maries. They have tucked it safe mong the bulrushes. Peekaboo. I see
[2188]     you. No, the dog. He is running back to them. Who?
[2190]     Galleys of the Lochlanns ran here to beach, in quest of prey, their
[2191]     bloodbeaked prows riding low on a molten pewter surf. Dane vikings, torcs
[2192]     of tomahawks aglitter on their breasts when Malachi wore the collar of
[2193]     gold. A school of turlehide whales stranded in hot noon, spouting,
[2194]     hobbling in the shallows. Then from the starving cagework city a horde of
[2195]     jerkined dwarfs, my people, with flayers' knives, running, scaling,
[2196]     hacking in green blubbery whalemeat. Famine, plague and slaughters. Their
[2197]     blood is in me, their lusts my waves. I moved among them on the frozen
[2198]     Liffey, that I, a changeling, among the spluttering resin fires. I spoke
[2199]     to no-one: none to me.
[2201]     The dog's bark ran towards him, stopped, ran back. Dog of my
[2202]     enemy. I just simply stood pale, silent, bayed about. TERRIBILIA MEDITANS.
[2203]     A primrose doublet, fortune's knave, smiled on my fear. For that are you
[2204]     pining, the bark of their applause? Pretenders: live their lives. The
[2205]     Bruce's brother, Thomas Fitzgerald, silken knight, Perkin Warbeck, York's
[2206]     false scion, in breeches of silk of whiterose ivory, wonder of a day, and
[2207]     Lambert Simnel, with a tail of nans and sutlers, a scullion crowned. All
[2208]     kings' sons. Paradise of pretenders then and now. He saved men from
[2209]     drowning and you shake at a cur's yelping. But the courtiers who mocked
[2210]     Guido in Or san Michele were in their own house. House of ... We don't
[2211]     want any of your medieval abstrusiosities. Would you do what he did? A
[2212]     boat would be near, a lifebuoy. NATURLICH, put there for you. Would you or
[2213]     would you not? The man that was drowned nine days ago off Maiden's rock.
[2214]     They are waiting for him now. The truth, spit it out. I would want to.
[2215]     I would try. I am not a strong swimmer. Water cold soft. When I put my
[2216]     face into it in the basin at Clongowes. Can't see! Who's behind me? Out
[2217]     quickly, quickly! Do you see the tide flowing quickly in on all sides,
[2218]     sheeting the lows of sand quickly, shellcocoacoloured? If I had land under
[2219]     my feet. I want his life still to be his, mine to be mine. A drowning man.
[2220]     His human eyes scream to me out of horror of his death. I ... With him
[2221]     together down ... I could not save her. Waters: bitter death: lost.
[2223]     A woman and a man. I see her skirties. Pinned up, I bet.
[2225]     Their dog ambled about a bank of dwindling sand, trotting, sniffing
[2226]     on all sides. Looking for something lost in a past life. Suddenly he made
[2227]     off like a bounding hare, ears flung back, chasing the shadow of a
[2228]     lowskimming gull. The man's shrieked whistle struck his limp ears. He
[2229]     turned, bounded back, came nearer, trotted on twinkling shanks. On a field
[2230]     tenney a buck, trippant, proper, unattired. At the lacefringe of the tide
[2231]     he halted with stiff forehoofs, seawardpointed ears. His snout lifted
[2232]     barked at the wavenoise, herds of seamorse. They serpented towards his
[2233]     feet, curling, unfurling many crests, every ninth, breaking, plashing,
[2234]     from far, from farther out, waves and waves.
[2236]     Cocklepickers. They waded a little way in the water and, stooping,
[2237]     soused their bags and, lifting them again, waded out. The dog yelped
[2238]     running to them, reared up and pawed them, dropping on all fours, again
[2239]     reared up at them with mute bearish fawning. Unheeded he kept by them as
[2240]     they came towards the drier sand, a rag of wolf's tongue redpanting from
[2241]     his jaws. His speckled body ambled ahead of them and then loped off at a
[2242]     calf's gallop. The carcass lay on his path. He stopped, sniffed, stalked
[2243]     round it, brother, nosing closer, went round it, sniffling rapidly like a
[2244]     dog all over the dead dog's bedraggled fell. Dogskull, dogsniff, eyes on
[2245]     the ground, moves to one great goal. Ah, poor dogsbody! Here lies poor
[2246]     dogsbody's body.
[2248]     --Tatters! Out of that, you mongrel!
[2250]     The cry brought him skulking back to his master and a blunt bootless
[2251]     kick sent him unscathed across a spit of sand, crouched in flight. He
[2252]     slunk back in a curve. Doesn't see me. Along by the edge of the mole he
[2253]     lolloped, dawdled, smelt a rock. and from under a cocked hindleg pissed
[2254]     against it. He trotted forward and, lifting again his hindleg, pissed
[2255]     quick short at an unsmelt rock. The simple pleasures of the poor. His
[2256]     hindpaws then scattered the sand: then his forepaws dabbled and delved.
[2257]     Something he buried there, his grandmother. He rooted in the sand,
[2258]     dabbling, delving and stopped to listen to the air, scraped up the sand
[2259]     again with a fury of his claws, soon ceasing, a pard, a panther, got in
[2260]     spousebreach, vulturing the dead.
[2262]     After he woke me last night same dream or was it? Wait. Open
[2263]     hallway. Street of harlots. Remember. Haroun al Raschid. I am almosting
[2264]     it. That man led me, spoke. I was not afraid. The melon he had he held
[2265]     against my face. Smiled: creamfruit smell. That was the rule, said. In.
[2266]     Come. Red carpet spread. You will see who.
[2268]     Shouldering their bags they trudged, the red Egyptians. His blued
[2269]     feet out of turnedup trousers slapped the clammy sand, a dull brick
[2270]     muffler strangling his unshaven neck. With woman steps she followed: the
[2271]     ruffian and his strolling mort. Spoils slung at her back. Loose sand and
[2272]     shellgrit crusted her bare feet. About her windraw face hair trailed.
[2273]     Behind her lord, his helpmate, bing awast to Romeville. When night hides
[2274]     her body's flaws calling under her brown shawl from an archway where dogs
[2275]     have mired. Her fancyman is treating two Royal Dublins in O'Loughlin's of
[2276]     Blackpitts. Buss her, wap in rogues' rum lingo, for, O, my dimber wapping
[2277]     dell! A shefiend's whiteness under her rancid rags. Fumbally's lane that
[2278]     night: the tanyard smells.
[2287]     Morose delectation Aquinas tunbelly calls this, FRATE PORCOSPINO.
[2288]     Unfallen Adam rode and not rutted. Call away let him: THY QUARRONS DAINTY
[2289]     IS. Language no whit worse than his. Monkwords, marybeads jabber on
[2290]     their girdles: roguewords, tough nuggets patter in their pockets.
[2292]     Passing now.
[2294]     A side eye at my Hamlet hat. If I were suddenly naked here as I sit? I
[2295]     am not. Across the sands of all the world, followed by the sun's flaming
[2296]     sword, to the west, trekking to evening lands. She trudges, schlepps,
[2297]     trains, drags, trascines her load. A tide westering, moondrawn, in her
[2298]     wake. Tides, myriadislanded, within her, blood not mine, OINOPA PONTON,
[2299]     a winedark sea. Behold the handmaid of the moon. In sleep the wet sign
[2300]     calls her hour, bids her rise. Bridebed, childbed, bed of death,
[2301]     ghostcandled. OMNIS CARO AD TE VENIET. He comes, pale vampire, through
[2302]     storm his eyes, his bat sails bloodying the sea, mouth to her mouth's
[2303]     kiss.
[2305]     Here. Put a pin in that chap, will you? My tablets. Mouth to her kiss.
[2307]     No. Must be two of em. Glue em well. Mouth to her mouth's kiss.
[2309]     His lips lipped and mouthed fleshless lips of air: mouth to her
[2310]     moomb. Oomb, allwombing tomb. His mouth moulded issuing breath,
[2311]     unspeeched: ooeeehah: roar of cataractic planets, globed, blazing, roaring
[2312]     wayawayawayawayaway. Paper. The banknotes, blast them. Old Deasy's
[2313]     letter. Here. Thanking you for the hospitality tear the blank end off.
[2314]     Turning his back to the sun he bent over far to a table of rock and
[2315]     scribbled words. That's twice I forgot to take slips from the library
[2316]     counter.
[2318]     His shadow lay over the rocks as he bent, ending. Why not endless till
[2319]     the farthest star? Darkly they are there behind this light, darkness
[2320]     shining in the brightness, delta of Cassiopeia, worlds. Me sits there with
[2321]     his augur's rod of ash, in borrowed sandals, by day beside a livid sea,
[2322]     unbeheld, in violet night walking beneath a reign of uncouth stars.
[2323]     I throw this ended shadow from me, manshape ineluctable, call it back.
[2324]     Endless, would it be mine, form of my form? Who watches me here? Who ever
[2325]     anywhere will read these written words? Signs on a white field. Somewhere
[2326]     to someone in your flutiest voice. The good bishop of Cloyne took the veil
[2327]     of the temple out of his shovel hat: veil of space with coloured emblems
[2328]     hatched on its field. Hold hard. Coloured on a flat: yes, that's right.
[2329]     Flat I see, then think distance, near, far, flat I see, east, back. Ah,
[2330]     see now! Falls back suddenly, frozen in stereoscope. Click does the trick.
[2331]     You find my words dark. Darkness is in our souls do you not think?
[2332]     Flutier. Our souls, shamewounded by our sins, cling to us yet more,
[2333]     a woman to her lover clinging, the more the more.
[2335]     She trusts me, her hand gentle, the longlashed eyes. Now where the blue
[2336]     hell am I bringing her beyond the veil? Into the ineluctable modality
[2337]     of the ineluctable visuality. She, she, she. What she? The virgin
[2338]     at Hodges Figgis' window on Monday looking in for one of the alphabet
[2339]     books you were going to write. Keen glance you gave her. Wrist through
[2340]     the braided jesse of her sunshade. She lives in Leeson park with
[2341]     a grief and kickshaws, a lady of letters. Talk that to someone else,
[2342]     Stevie: a pickmeup. Bet she wears those curse of God stays suspenders
[2343]     and yellow stockings, darned with lumpy wool. Talk about apple dumplings,
[2344]     PIUTTOSTO. Where are your wits?
[2346]     Touch me. Soft eyes. Soft soft soft hand. I am lonely here. O, touch
[2347]     me soon, now. What is that word known to all men? I am quiet here alone.
[2348]     Sad too. Touch, touch me.
[2350]     He lay back at full stretch over the sharp rocks, cramming the
[2351]     scribbled note and pencil into a pock his hat. His hat down on his eyes.
[2352]     That is Kevin Egan's movement I made, nodding for his nap, sabbath sleep.
[2353]     ET VIDIT DEUS. ET ERANT VALDE BONA. Alo! BONJOUR. Welcome as the flowers
[2354]     in May. Under its leaf he watched through peacocktwittering lashes the
[2355]     southing sun. I am caught in this burning scene. Pan's hour, the faunal
[2356]     noon. Among gumheavy serpentplants, milkoozing fruits, where on the
[2357]     tawny waters leaves lie wide. Pain is far.
[2361]     His gaze brooded on his broadtoed boots, a buck's castoffs,
[2362]     NEBENEINANDER. He counted the creases of rucked leather wherein another's
[2363]     foot had nested warm. The foot that beat the ground in tripudium, foot I
[2364]     dislove. But you were delighted when Esther Osvalt's shoe went on you:
[2365]     girl I knew in Paris. TIENS, QUEL PETIT PIED! Staunch friend, a brother
[2366]     soul: Wilde's love that dare not speak its name. His arm: Cranly's arm. He
[2367]     now will leave me. And the blame? As I am. As I am. All or not at all.
[2369]     In long lassoes from the Cock lake the water flowed full, covering
[2370]     greengoldenly lagoons of sand, rising, flowing. My ashplant will float
[2371]     away. I shall wait. No, they will pass on, passing, chafing against the
[2372]     low rocks, swirling, passing. Better get this job over quick. Listen: a
[2373]     fourworded wavespeech: seesoo, hrss, rsseeiss, ooos. Vehement breath of
[2374]     waters amid seasnakes, rearing horses, rocks. In cups of rocks it slops:
[2375]     flop, slop, slap: bounded in barrels. And, spent, its speech ceases. It
[2376]     flows purling, widely flowing, floating foampool, flower unfurling.
[2378]     Under the upswelling tide he saw the writhing weeds lift languidly
[2379]     and sway reluctant arms, hising up their petticoats, in whispering water
[2380]     swaying and upturning coy silver fronds. Day by day: night by night:
[2381]     lifted, flooded and let fall. Lord, they are weary; and, whispered to,
[2382]     they sigh. Saint Ambrose heard it, sigh of leaves and waves, waiting,
[2383]     awaiting the fullness of their times, DIEBUS AC NOCTIBUS INIURIAS PATIENS
[2384]     INGEMISCIT. To no end gathered; vainly then released, forthflowing,
[2385]     wending back: loom of the moon. Weary too in sight of lovers, lascivious
[2386]     men, a naked woman shining in her courts, she draws a toil of waters.
[2388]     Five fathoms out there. Full fathom five thy father lies. At one, he
[2389]     said. Found drowned. High water at Dublin bar. Driving before it a loose
[2390]     drift of rubble, fanshoals of fishes, silly shells. A corpse rising
[2391]     saltwhite from the undertow, bobbing a pace a pace a porpoise landward.
[2392]     There he is. Hook it quick. Pull. Sunk though he be beneath the watery
[2393]     floor. We have him. Easy now.
[2395]     Bag of corpsegas sopping in foul brine. A quiver of minnows, fat of a
[2396]     spongy titbit, flash through the slits of his buttoned trouserfly. God
[2397]     becomes man becomes fish becomes barnacle goose becomes featherbed
[2398]     mountain. Dead breaths I living breathe, tread dead dust, devour a urinous
[2399]     offal from all dead. Hauled stark over the gunwale he breathes upward the
[2400]     stench of his green grave, his leprous nosehole snoring to the sun.
[2402]     A seachange this, brown eyes saltblue. Seadeath, mildest of all deaths
[2403]     known to man. Old Father Ocean. PRIX DE PARIS: beware of imitations. Just
[2404]     you give it a fair trial. We enjoyed ourselves immensely.
[2406]     Come. I thirst. Clouding over. No black clouds anywhere, are there?
[2407]     Thunderstorm. Allbright he falls, proud lightning of the intellect,
[2408]     LUCIFER, DICO, QUI NESCIT OCCASUM. No. My cockle hat and staff and hismy
[2409]     sandal shoon. Where? To evening lands. Evening will find itself.
[2411]     He took the hilt of his ashplant, lunging with it softly, dallying still.
[2412]     Yes, evening will find itself in me, without me. All days make their end.
[2413]     By the way next when is it Tuesday will be the longest day. Of all the
[2414]     glad new year, mother, the rum tum tiddledy tum. Lawn Tennyson, gentleman
[2415]     poet. GIA. For the old hag with the yellow teeth. And Monsieur Drumont,
[2416]     gentleman journalist. GIA. My teeth are very bad. Why, I wonder. Feel.
[2417]     That one is going too. Shells. Ought I go to a dentist, I wonder, with
[2418]     that money? That one. This. Toothless Kinch, the superman. Why is that, I
[2419]     wonder, or does it mean something perhaps?
[2421]     My handkerchief. He threw it. I remember. Did I not take it up?
[2423]     His hand groped vainly in his pockets. No, I didn't. Better buy one.
[2425]     He laid the dry snot picked from his nostril on a ledge of rock,
[2426]     carefully. For the rest let look who will.
[2428]     Behind. Perhaps there is someone.
[2430]     He turned his face over a shoulder, rere regardant. Moving through
[2431]     the air high spars of a threemaster, her sails brailed up on the
[2432]     crosstrees, homing, upstream, silently moving, a silent ship.