{ms, 001}

^|1|xSorrel nags^{x| |x}lurch^{x| |x}brew^{x| |x}beseeching hands^{x| |x}seasedge^{x| |x}Crosshaven strand, was I there?º^x|1|

Ineluctable modality of the visible: it must be that at least if no more. My eyes do not see it: they think it rather than see. ^|1These signs Signatures of all things^1| I am blank read: ^|1and render:^{1| |1}furrows spawn^1| of seawrack, the tide coming in, that rusty bootº Bottlegreen, bluesilver, rust. Yes, coloured signs, limits of the diaphane. But he adds: in ^|1solid^1| bodies. Then he has become aware of them ^|1solid^1| before of ^|1their colours them coloured^1|. How? By knocking his ^|1head sconce^1| against them. ^|1Sure.^1| Go easy. Yes, ^|1he was bald bald he was^1| and a multimillionaire, maestro di color che sanno. Wait now: limit of the diaphane. in. Why in? Diaphane, adiaphane. If you can put your five fingers through it is a gate, if you cannot it is a door. Shut your eyes and see.

Walking along Sandymount strand

Stephen closed his eyes, ^|1hearing to hear^1| his boots crushing the crackling wrack and shells. You are walking through it anyhow ^|1howsomever^1|. Yes I am: a ^|1yard parasang^1| at a time. ^|1A very short space of time through very short times of space.^1| O Five, six: the ^|1nacheinander Nacheinander^{1| |1}one after the other^1|. Exactly: and that is the ineluctable modality of the audible. Open your eyes. No. Jesus! If I fell over a ^|1precipice cliff^1| now ^|1that beetles o'er his base^1|. Fell through the Nebeneinander. Ineluctably. I am getting on very nicely in the dark. My two feet ^|1in Mulligan's boots^1| are at the ends of my two legs: nebeneinander. Solid no doubt: made by the hammer of Los ^|1Demiurgos^1|. Am I walking into eternity along Sandymount Strand? ^|1|xShells & wrack^x|1| Crush, crack, crick, crick. ^|1|aWild sea money:^a| Old ^|aDeasy spangled shoulders^a| kens them ^|aall ilka one^a|.^1|

Won't you come to Sandymount
Madeline the mare?

Rhythm ^|1is beginning begins^1|, you see. I hear. ^|1Marching iambs. A catalecticº tetrameter of iambs marching.^1| No agallop: deline the mare.

Open your eyes now. Yes I will. One moment. Has all vanished in the meantime? If I open and ^|1see am for ever in^1| the black adiaphane. Enough. I will see if I can see.
{ms, 002}

See now. It was there all the time without ^|1you^1| and ^|1will be ever shall^1|, world without end.

They came down the steps from Leahy's terrace prudently. Frauenzimmer. And ^|1flabbily^1| down the shelving shore ^|1flabbily^1|, their splayed feet sinking in the silted sand. Like me, like Algy coming down to the mighty mother. ^|1Number^1| One carried her midwife's bag, the other ^|1after her^1| a gamp with which she poked and turned over shells of the beach. What has number What has Florence M Out from From the Coombe From the liberties, out for the day. Mrs Florence MacCabe, relict of the late ^|1lamented^1| Patk MacCabe ^|1of ^|aBlackpitts Bride Street^a|1|. ^|1One of her sisterhood lugged me squealing into ^|athis^a| life. Creation out of nothing.^1| What has she in the bag? A misbirth with a trailing navelcord, hushed in ruddy wool. The cords of all ^|1go link^1| back, stranded ^|1and twined entwining^1| cables of all flesh. Hello Telegraphic address: Navel Paradise That is why Novalis mystic monks. Will you be ^|1wise^1| as gods? Gaze in your ^|1navel omphalos^1|. Hello. Kinch here. Put me on to Edenville^|1, one, one, one. ^|aAleph, one, one, one ^|bAlpha,^b| nought, nought, one^a|1|.

^|1Heva, Spouse and^1| helpmate of Adam Kadmon. ^|1Naked Eve Heva, naked Eve.^1| She had no navel^|1.: ^|agaze ^|blook Gaze^b|.^a|1| Belly without blemish, bulging big, a buckler of taut vellum, ^|1or no,^1| whiteheaped ^|1|afruitful^a|1| corn, orient ^|1and^1| immortal, standing from everlasting to everlasting. ^|1Mother, womb
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Womb^1| of sin.

Wombed in darkness I was too, made not begotten: by them, the man with my ^|1strange voice & my^1| eyes and ^|1the ghost with a breath of ashes a ghostwoman with ashes on her breath^1|. ^|1They did the coupler's will, clasped ^|aClasped They clasped^a|1| and sundered, ^|1they^1| did the coupler's ^|1will from will. From^1| before all ages^|1.^1| He willed me and ^|1now^1| may not will me away ^|1now^1| or ever. A lex eterna stays about Him. Is that then the divine substance wherein Father and Son are consubstantial? ^|1|xhypostaticº^x|1| Where is Arius to answer? ^|1Warring his life long upon the ^|x|atransmagnificandjewbangan transmagnificandjewbangdanciality.^{a|x| |a}contransmagnificandjewbangdandiality contransmagnificandjewbangtantiality^a|.^{1| |1}Luckless Illstarred^1| heresiarch! In a Greek watercloset he breathed his last^|1,: euthanasia.^{1| |1}mitred and croziered ^|amitred, coped and croziered ^|bwith mitre and crozier on With crozier and with ^|cbeaded^c| mitre ^|cstalled^c| upon^b|a|1| his ^|1foul ^|adead ^|bstark^b|a|1| throne, ^|1|adead^a| widower of a widowed see,^1| with ^|1trussed up vestments ^|astiffed up upstiffed^a| omophorion^1|, with ^|1foul clotted^1| hinder parts.

^|1The seawind Sea airs^1| romped around him, nipping and eager ^|1air airs^1|. They are coming: waves. The whitemaned ^|1sea^1| horses, tossing, ^|1hundredbridled brightwindbridled^1|.

I mustn't forget his letter for the press. And after? The Ship half twelve. By the way, go easy with that money ^|1like a good young imbecile^1|. Yes, I must.

His pace slackened. Here. Am I going to ^|1Strasburg terrace Aunt ^|aDora's Sara's^a|1| or not? My consubstantial father's voice. Did you see anything of your brother Stephen lately? No? Sure, he's not down in Strasburg terrace with ^|1Charley's his^1| aunt. Sally? Couldn't he find something better than that eh? And how And and and and tell ^|1me, us, Stephen,^1| and how is uncle ^|1Simon Si^1|? O, weeping God! The things I married into. ^|1Sir. No, sir. Agonising God! ^|aThe ^|bdrunken little^b| costdrawer and ^|bhis brother^b| the cornetplayer ^|bDe boys in de hayloft:^b| highly respectable gondoliers.^a| And ^|aSquinteyed Skeweyed^a| Walter ^|a|bthat sirs sirring^b| his da, no less^a|. Sir. Yes, sir. No, sir. Jesus wept: and no wonder, by Christ.^1|

I pull the rusty bell of their shuttered ^|1house cottage^1|: and wait. Twice. They take me for a dun, peer out from a coign of vantage.

— It's Stephen, sir.
{ms, 004}

— Let him in. Let ^|1him Stephen^1| in.

A bolt drawn back and Walter welcomes me.

— We thought you were someone else.

Uncle Richie, pillowed and blanketed in the broad bed extends over the hill of his knees a ^|1white^1| sturdy forearm. Cleanchested. He has washed the upper moiety.

— Morrow, Stephen.

He lays aside the lapboard whereon he drafts his bill of costs for the eyes of master Goff and master Tandy, filing consents and common searches and a writ of Duces Tecum. ^|1Above his bald head on the wall the little bogoak frame round Wilde's verse: Requiescat.^1| The drone of his misleading whistle brings Walter back.

— Yes, sir?

— ^|1Whisky Malt^1| for Richie and Stephen, tell mother. Where is ^|1he she^1|?

— She's bathing Crissie, sir.

^|1Papa's little lump of love.^1|

— No, uncle Richie ….

— Call me Richie. ^|1Malt! Whisky!^1|

— Uncle Richie look …. Really ….

— Sit down or ^|1will you be knocked by the law Harry I'll knock you^1| down?

Walter squints vainly for a chair.

— He has nothing to sit down on, sir.

— He has nowhere to put it, you mug. Bring our Chippendale chair.
^|1— Would you like a bite of something? None of your damned aristocratic airs. A rasher fried with a herring? Sure? So much the better. We have nothing in the house but Dora's backache pills.^1|

All'erta

He drones bars of Fernando's aria di Sortita. The grandest number, Stephen, in the whole opera. Listen.

His tuneful whistle sounds again, finely shaded and with rushes of ^|1the^1| air, his fists bigdrumming on his padded knees.

This air is sweeter.º

Houses of decay, mine and his and all. ^|1You told ^|aClongowes ^|bthe sons of the gentry in Clongowes the Clongowes gentry^b|a| that ^|ayour uncle was you had an uncle^a| a judge and an uncle a general in the army.^1| Come out of them, Stephen.
{ms, 005}

Beauty is not there. Nor in the stagnant ^|1dingy^1| bay of Marsh's library where you read the fading prophecies of Joachim Abbas. For whom? The ^|1ragtail hundredheaded^1| rabblement ^|1in the liberties of the cathedral close^1|. A hater of his kind missing ran from them to the wood of ^|1madness fury^1|, his mane foaming in the moon, his eyeballs stars. Houhynhym: horsenostrilled. ^|1|xThe oval equine faces: Temple, Buck Mulligan, Lanternjaws Foxy Campbell,^x|1| Dean ^|1and,^1| abbas father what offence lit their set fire to their brains? Paff! Descende, calve, ut ne nimium decalveris. A garland of grey hair on his comminated head see him me clambering down to the footpace (Descende) clutching a ^|1basilisk monstrance ^|aflashing^a| monstrance basiliskeyed^1|. Get down, P baldpoll. A choir gives back menace and echo, assisting about the altar's horns, the snorted Latin of priests moving burly in their albs, tonsured and oiled and gelded, fat with the fat of kidneys of wheat.

And at the same instant perhaps a priest round the corner is elevating it. ^|1|aDerring!^a| Dring! Dring!^1| And two streets off another one locking it into a pyx. ^|1Dringadring!^1| And in a ^|1side lady^1| chapel another one taking housel all to his own cheek. Dringdring! Down, up, forward, back: Occam thought of that ^|1Doctor invincibilis^1|. ^|1That's all right, fair and square.^{1| |1}It must have been one morning misty English morning the devil's thought A misty English morning that imp^1| crossed his brain. ^|1Bringing his host down & kneeling^1| He ^|1gave a side eye in the transept. I am at as he brought his host down on heard ^|atwine with his second bell^a| the ^|afirst^a| bell in the transept^1| he is lifting) his) and ^|1rising^1| heard (^|1now^1| I am lifting ^|1mine^1|) ^|1the bell again their two bells ^|a(and he is kneeling)^a|1| twang ^|1together in diphthong^1|.

Cousin Stephen, you will never be a saint. Isle of saints. You were awfully holy, weren't you? You prayed to the Blessed Virgin that you might not have a red nose. You prayed to the devil in Serpentine
{ms, 006}
Avenue that the ^|1fat^1| woman in front might lift her ^|1skirts ^|aclothes blank^a|1| more ^|1in the rain from the wet street^1|. O si, certo. Sell your soul for that, colo dyed rags ^|1tied pinned^1| round a squaw. More, more ^|1than that^1| tell me. On the top of the Howth tram ^|1alone^1| crying ^|1in to^1| the rain: naked women! naked women! What about that, eh?

What about what? ^|1For what What^1| else were they invented. for?

You are a highly intellectual fellow, with your Oxford manner. Reading two pages apiece of ten books every night. I was young. You bowed to yourself in the mirror, stepping forward to applause : Hooray ^|1so serious seriously^1|, striking looking. ^|1Hooray Hurray^1| for the God damned idiot! ^|1Ay! Ray! Hray!^1| Noone saw: tell no-one. ^|1Books you were going to write with letters for ^|atheir^a| titles. Have you read ^|aQ F^a|? O yes, but I prefer Q. Yes but W is wonderful. O yes, W.^1| And your epiphanies, written on green ^|1paper oval^1| leaves, so deeply deep, ^|1copies^1| to be sent to all the ^|1great^1| libraries of the world if you died, including Alexandria. Someone ^|1would was to^1| read them there ^|1in about a thousand years' time, you thought after a thousand years, a mahamanvantara^1|. ^|1Yes Ay^1|, very like a whale. When one reads these ^|1faded strange^1| pages of one long gone one feels that one is at one with one who once ….. ^|1|xSadº^x|1|

The ^|1fine grainy^1| sand had gone from under his feet. His boots trod ^|1razorsilt ^|aon the damp crackling mast of,^a| razorshells^1|, stuck empty shells, ^|1unnumbered squeaking^1| pebbles, that on the unnumbered pebbles beats, ^|1waterrusted ^|asaltrusted ^|bbrinerusted^b|a|1| wood ^|1gnawed sieved by the Shipworm^|a, lost Armada^a|1|. ^|1Cakey damp Unwholesome^1| sandflats waited to suck his treading ^|1boots soles^1|, breathing upward sewage breath. He coasted them walking warily. On his left a ^|1porter^1| bottle stood up pitted to its waist in the cakey ^|1damp sand sand dough^1|. A sentinel. Isle of dreadful
{ms, 007}
thirst. ^|1Farther^1| Broken hoops ^|1farther on the shore^1|; ^|1and beyond a dark at the land's end a^1| maze of dark cunning nets: ^|1and farther on higher ground and farther still on the higher ground and farther away ^|achalkscrawled backdoors and^a| on a clothesline two crucified shirts.^1| Ringsend: ^|1houses wigwams^1| of brown ^|1sailors steersmen^1| and master mariners. Human shells.

He halted. I have passed the way to aunt ^|1Dora's Sara's^1|. Am I not going there? Seems not. No-one about the strand. He turned and crossed the firmer sand towards the Pigeon House.

My father's a bird.

— Qui vous a mis dans cette fichue position?

— C'est le pigeon, Joseph!

Patrice, ^|1son of Kevin,^1| home on furlough, lapped warm milk with me in the bar ^|1Minerva MacMahon^1|. Son of ^|1a the^1| wild goose ^|1Kevin Egan of Paris^1|. My father's a bird. He lapped the sweet lait chaud ^|1inoffensively. A with^1| pink young tongue, a plump ^|1white rabbit's bunny's^1| face. ^|1|x|aShotgunº^a|x|1| Lap, lapin. He hopes to win something in the gros lots. Michelet He tells me all about the nature of woman that he read in Michelet. He will send me la Vie de Jésus by M. Léo Taxil. He has lent it to a friend. C'est tordant, vous savez. Moi, je suis socialiste. Je ne crois pas en l'existence de Dieu. Faut pas le dire à mon père.

— Il croit?

— Mon père, oui.

Schluss. He laps.

My Latin quarter hat. God, we must simply dress the character. I want puce gloves. You were a student; weren't you? Of what in the other devil's name? P.C.N. ^|1Paysayenn. P.C.N. You know, physiques, chemiques et naturelles. Aha!^1| Eating ^|1fourpenceworth ^|aa groatsworth your groatsworth^a|1| of mou en civet ^|1Fleshpots of Egypt,^{1| |1}beside elbowed by^1| belching cabmen. Just say in the most natural tone. When I was in Paris I used to. Yes, you used to carry old punched tramtickets for weeks in your pocket
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to be able to prove an alibi if you were arrested on a charge of murder somewhere. ^|1Justice: ^|aWhere were you on the 15 of February 1902? On 15 of February 1902 the prisoner was seen by two witnesses.^a|1| Other fellow did it. ^|1My double: Other me:^1| hat, tie, overcoat, face. Lui, c'est moi. Ally s Allee samey Allee samee. ^|1You seem to have enjoyed yourself.^1|

You walked proudly. Whom were you trying to walk like? Forget now who. ^|1|xWith mother's ^|aeight s/-^a| money order in your hand the barrier of the post office shut in your face by the usher. Nothing to eat. Encore deux minutes. Look clock. Fermé. Hired dog. ^|aBlow Shoot^a| him to ^|abloody^a| bits with a bang shotgun ^|abits ^|bguts^b|a| spattered walls all brass buttons. Bits all back in place. ^|a|bChrrrrrklak. Krrrrrklak.^b|a| Not hurt? O, that's all right. Shake hands. See what I meant^|a, see^a|? O, that's all right. Shake a shake. O that's all only all rightº^x|1| You were going to do wonders, weren't you? ^|1Missioner unto Europe like the fiery Columbanus.^1| Pretending to have forgotten speak broken English when as you dragged your valise across the slimy pier at Newhaven. Comment? ^|1The Rich^1| booty you brought back. Five numbers of Pantalon Blanc et Culotte Rouge: and a blue French telegram. Curiosity to show.

— Nother dying. Come home.

Father.

The aunt thinks you killed your mother. That's the reason why she won't.

— Then here's a health to Mulligan's aunt
And I'll tell you the reason why
She always kept things decent in
The Hannigan ^|1family famileye^1|.

His feet marched in sudden ^|1gay proud^1| rhythm over the ^|1sand ^|afurrowed sand sand furrows^a|1| along by the boulders of the South Wall. ^|1He stared at them, piled stone ^|ag mammoth^a| skulls.^1| Gold light on the sea, the sand, the boulders. ^|1Sewage of my brain behind me. ^|aBehind me sewage of my brain.^a|1| The sun is there, the slender trees, the lemon houses.

Paris rawly waking, crude sunlight on her lemon streets. Moist pith of farls of bread, froggreen wormwood, her matin incense court the air. Belluomo rises from the bed of his wife's lover's wife: the kerchiefed housewife is astir, a saucer of acetic acid in her hand. In ^|1Polidor's Rodot's^1| Yvonne and Madeleine, belated, newmake their tumbled beauties, shattering
{ms, 009}
with gold teeth chaussons of pastry, their mouths yellowed with the pus of flan bréton. Faces of the Paris men go by, their wellpleased pleasers, curled conquistadores.

Noon is ^|1near by^1|. Kevin Egan rolls gunpowder cigarettes through fingers smeared with printer's ink, sipping his green fairy as Patrice his white. About us the hungry ^|1|xgobblers^x|1| fork spiced beans down their throats gullets. Un demi sétier. A jet of coffee steam from the burnished cauldron^|1. She serves me at his beck, coffee. your postprandial. Do you know that word? Postprandial. There was a fellow I knew ^|aonce in ^|bLondon Barcelona^b|a| used to ^|asay that call it his postprandial^a|. Well; sláinte.^{1| |1}and around Around^1| the ^|1marble slabbed marbleslabbed^1| tables the tangle of wined breaths and grumbling gorges. His breath hangs over our saucestained plates, the green fairy's fang thrusting between his scandalous lips. ^|1Ireland, the city of the Dalcassians, hopes, conspiracies. Of Ireland, of the Dalcassians, of hopes, conspiracies. Of lost leaders, Of Arthur Griffith now. To yoke me his yokefellow, Our crimes our common cause.^1| His fustian shirt, sanguineflowered, trembles its neck tassels at his secrets. ^|1missing^1| Maud Gonne, ^|1Drumont ^|athe journalist^a|, Know what he called queen Victoria? Old hag with the yellow teeth, ^|acette La^a| vieille ^|asalope ogresse^a| with the yellow teeth.^1| Millevoye, Félix Faure, licentious ^|1men, the men: The^1| fröken who washed and rubbed his naked body in the bath at Upsala, most licentious ^|1custom, bath custom. Bath^1| a most private thing. I wouldn't let my brother, not even my own brother, most lascivious thing. Green eyes, I see you! Fang, I feel. Lascivious thing. The blue fuse burns deadly between his hands and burns clear. The loose tobacco shreds catch fire and flame and acrid smoke light our corner. Raw facebones under his Span ^|1Spaniard's ^|aMoonlighter's peep of day boy's^a|1| hat. ^|1|xHow Stephen How the head centre escaped mummed as a bride. How ^|athe head centre got away^a| a young bride drove out with orangeblossoms to Malahide drove out with veil & orangeblossoms driving out to Malahide under a veil and orange blossoms. Disguises, clutched at, gone, not here.^x|1| Spurned lover. I was a strapping young bouchal then ^|1at that time I tell you^1|. ^|1I was, faith.^1| I'll show you my likeness one ^|1day time^1|. Lover, for her love he prowled with colonel Richard Burke, ^|1his tanist tanist ^|aof the tribe of his sept^a|1|, under Clerkenwell walls and, crouching, saw a flame of vengeance hurl them upwards in the fog. Shattered glass and toppling masonry. In ^|1Paris' multitude Gay Paree^1|
{ms, 010}
now he hides, unsought by any save by me. Making his day's stations, the dim printingcase, his three taverns, the lair ^|1in Butte Montmartre^1| he sleeps short nights in ^|1in,^1| rue de la Goutte d'Or, damascened with ^|1old bleache flyblown^1| cartoons. Loveless, landless, wifeless, souless. She is ^|1all right ^|acomfy comfy nicey comfy^a|1| without her ^|1castoff outcast^1| man, madame in rue Git-le-cœur, canary and two ^|1buck^1| lodgers. ^|1Geranium Peachy^1| cheeks, a ^|1zebra^1| skirt, frisky as a girl's. Spurned lover and undespairing. Mon fils, soldier of France. I taught him ^|1O, the to sing The^1| boys of Kilkenny are stout roaring blades. ^|1Do you know that old song? ^|aThat I taught Patrice. ^|bI taught Patrice that.^{b|a|1| |1}Old Kilkenny.^{1| |1|a}It goes like this. His burning eyes on mine, singing he takes me, Napper Tandy, by the hand.^{a|1| |1}Do you know that old song? I taught Patrice that. Old Kilkenny. ^|aStrongbow's Castle. up on the Nore.^a| It goes like this. ^|xSaint Canice: Strongbow's old castle on the Nore. Historical. Goes like this. O. O. He takes me …^x| He takes me, Napper Tandy, by the hand.^1|

— O, the boys of Kilkenny

^|1|xwasted voices Wasting hand Wasting life. ^|aBurning Weak^a| wasting hand on mine.^x|1|

They have ^|1cast him out and forgotten forgotten Kevin Egan^1|, not he them ^|1, Kevin Egan{sup>{small>1|. Remembering thee, O Sion.

He had come nearer the edge of the sea and wet sand slapped his boots. The wild air greeted him, ^|1singing harping^1| on wild nerves, fire in wind of wild air of seeds of fire. Here. I am not walking out to the Kish ^|1light^1| , am I? He stood suddenly, his feet beginning to sink slowly in the quaking soil. Turn back. Turning he ^|1looked southward along the shore scanned the shore southward^1|, his feet sinking again slowly in new sockets. The cold domed room of the tower waits. Through the barbacans ^|1the^1| shafts of light ^|1will move are moving^1| ever, slowly ever as my feet are sinking, creeping this side that side over the dial floor. Blue dusk, nightfall, deep blue night. In the darkness
{ms, 011}
of the dome they wait, their pushed back ^|1chairs^1|, my obelisk valise, round an uncleared a ^|1table board^1|, of abandoned platters. Who would clear it? He has the key. I will not sleep there when this night comes. A shut door of a silent tower, entombing their blind bodies, the panthersahib and his ^|1gamebeater pointer^1|. Call: no answer. He lifted his feet from the suck and turned back by the mole of boulders. Take all, keep all: my soul walks with me ^|1form of forms^1|. So in the moon's mid watches I walk by the path above the rocks, ^|1in sable silvered,^1| hearing Elsinore's tempting flood.

The flood is following me. I can watch it flow past from here. Get back then by the road again to the higher strand behind. He climbed over the greasy weed ^|1salvage of weed sedge & eely oarweeds^1| and sat on a stool of rock, ^|1laying resting^1| his ashplant by him.

The bloated carcase of a dog lay among the oily sedge. Before him the gunwale of a boat, buried in sand. Un coche ensablé Louis Veuillot called Gautier's unwieldy prose. These heavy sands are language that tide and wind have silted here. And these the stoneheaps of dead builders, a warren of weasel rats. Sands and stones. Why am I angered? ^|1because disdained.^1| A fool's wrath is heavier than them both. A live dog came into sight across the sweep of sand. Lord, is he going to attack me? ^|1Respect his liberty, you own none for master and will not be master and will not serve.^1| I have my stick. Sit still. From farther away walking shoreward across from the coming tide, ^|1figures ^|atwo figures figures two^a|1|. ^|1He is running back to them. ^|aNot the two damsels? No: The dog. ^|bNot the two damsels, having hid it among the bulrushes? No, the a dog. The two? They have laid it among the bulrushes. Peekaboo, I see you. No, the dog. He is running back to them.^b|a|1|

The galleys of the ^|1Danes Lochlanns^1| ran here to ^|1land beach^1|, in quest of prey,
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their bloodbeaked prows riding the low ^|1waves molten pewter surf^1|. ^|1Vikings ^|awith gleaming torcs of tomahawks ^|btheir the^b| torcs of tomahawks aglitter^a| on their breasts, when Malachi wore the collar of gold.^1| A school of turlehide whales stranded in the noon, spouting, ^|1flapping hobbling^1| in the shallows. Then from the cobbled ^|1cagework^1| starving city a horde of jerkined dwarfs ^|1(my people)^1| with ^|1flaying flayers'^1| knives, running, scaling, hacking ^|1the^1| green blubbery whalemeat. Famine, plague and slaughter. Their blood is in me, their thoughts are my waves. I was among them on the frozen Liffey, ^|1a changeling,^1| among the hissing resin fires. I spoke to none: none to me.

The dog's bark ran towards him, ^|1ceased stopped^1|, ran back. ^|1Dog of my enemy. I ^|a|bjust^b| simply^a| stood pale, silent, bayed about. Terribilia meditans. The primrose doublet of fortune's knave, smiles ^|aat on^a| my silenceº^1| For that are you pining, the bark of their applause? ^|1Then live their lives, coward as they. Pretenders, live their lives. The Bruce's brother, ^|aThomas ^|bFitzgerald^b|, silken knight,^a| Lambert Simnel^|a, ^|ba scullion^b| tinsel^a| crowned: ^|ascullions^{a| |a}Perkin Warbeck, a wonder in Yorkist white silk breeches ^|ball kings' sons^b|a| and Silken Thomas: paradise of pretenders then and now ^|aThe Bruce's brother, Thomas Fitzgerald, silken knight, Perkin Warbeck, ^|bfalse scion of York York's false scion, ^|cman wonder^c| of a day^b|, in breeches of silk of ivory, and Lambert Simnel, a scullion crowned. All kings' sons. Paradise of pretenders then and now.^a|1| He saved men from drowning and you shake at the ^|1barking blank^1| of a ^|1cur cur's bark^1|? But the courtiers who mocked Guido Cavalcanti ^|1in Or San Michele^1| were in their own house, he meant the house of …. We don't want any more of ^|1your^1| medieval abstrusiosities. Would you do what he did? There would be a boat near or a lifebuoy. Ay, of course, put there for you. Would you or would you not? The man that was drowned last week off Maiden's Rock whose body they are waiting. The truth ^|1now., spit it out!^1| I would want to. I would try. I am not a strong swimmer. Do you see the tide flowing on all sides swiftly sheeting the ^|1stretches shellcocoacoloured beds^1| of sand? If I had land under my feet. I want his life to be still his but mine ^|1still^1| to be mine. A ^|1drowning^1| man. His ^|1human^1| eyes are fixed on me in horror of death. I …. With him together …. I could not save her. Waters: bitter death: lost.

A ^|1man and a woman woman and a man^1|. I see her ^|1skirts skirties^1|. Pinned up, I bet.
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The dog ambled about a bank of dwindling sand, trotting, sniffing on all sides. Looking for something he lost here in a past life. Suddenly he made off like a bounding hare, ears flung back, chasing the shadow of a lowflying gull. The man's shrieked whistle struck his limp ears. He turned, bounded back, came nearer, trotted on twinkling ^|1legs shanks^1|. ^|1On a field ^|atenny tenney^a| a buck trippant proper unattired.^1| At the verge of the tides he halted with stiff forehoofs, seawardpointed ears. His head lifted barked against the noise of the waves. They came towards his feet, ^|1shaking their ^|acurling?^a|, unfurling many many^1| crests, ^|1plashing, breaking, breaking, plashing,^1| from farther, from far out, waves and waves.

The man and woman waded in a few paces into the water and, stooping, soused their bags. Cocklepickers. They lifted their bags from the water and waded out again. The dog yelped and, running to them, reared up and pawed them: then, falling on all fours, and again reared up with mute bearish ^|1efforts fawning^1|. Unheeded he kept beside them as they came towards the drier sand, a rag of red tongue lolling from a side of his wolf's jaws. His speckled body ambled in front and then set to gallop off forward at a calf's gallop. The carcase lay on his path. He stopped, sniffed, stalked round it, nosing closer, went round it sniffing rapidly like a dog all points of the dead ^|1dog dog's bedraggled fell^1|. ^|1Dogskull, dogsniff, moves to one great goal. Ah, poor dogsbody! Here lies dogsbody's body.^1|

^|1|x|acrannocks of cornº^a|x|1|

— Tatters! Here, you mongrel!

The cry brought him skulking back to his master and a blunt bootless kick sent him unscathed across a spit of sand, crouched in flight. He ambled back
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in a curve and on by the edge of the moles mole, smelt a rock and from under a heaved hindleg pissed against it. He trotted on and, heaving again his hindleg, pissed ^|1against at^1| an unsmelt rock; ^|1|afew pleasures in life simple pleasures of the Poor^a|1|. His hindpaws then scattered the sand: then his forepaws dabbled and delved. Something he buried there^|1: his grandmother^1|. He ^|1scraped ^|aclawed rooted^a|1| in the sand, dabbling, delving and stopped to listen to the air, scraped up the sand again with a fury of his ^|1paws claws^1|, soon ceasing. A pard, a panther, ^|1got in spousebreach^1|, vulturing the dead.

^|1After he woke me last night same dream. Or was it? Wait. Open hallway. Street of harlots. Wait. Remember. I am almosting it ^|anow^a|: wait. ^|aA man leads That man led^a| me, spea spoke. I was not afraid. He smiled: gave me the melon ^|ahe had held it to my face^a|. That was the rule. In. Come. Red carpet spread. You will see.^1|

^|1|xRocking languageº^x|1|

^|1With Shouldering^1| their bags they passed. His large feet ^|1slapped^1| out of turned up trousers ^|1slapped^1| the ^|1damp ^|afurrowed clammyº^a|1| sand, a dull red muffler ^|1strangling throttling^1| his unshaven neck. With ^|1shorter woman^1| steps she followed him: the ^|1bully ruffian^1| and his strolling mort: her spoils slung ^|1on at^1| her back. Loose sand and shellgrit crusted her bare feet and loose her hang trailed about her windraw face. Behind her lord ^|1a helpmeet his helpmate^1| trudging to Romeville. When night hides her body's flaws, calling under her fringed shawl from an archway where dogs have mired. Her fancyman is treating two ^|1redcoats Royal Dublins^1| in O'Loughlin's of Blackpitts. ^|1|aTo buss, to unread Buss ^|b|clip blank^c| her^b|, wap^a| in rogues' rum lingo^|a. A, for, O, my^a| dimber wapping dell.^1| A shefiend's whiteness under her rancid rags. Fumbally's Lane that night, the tanyard smells. ^|1My dimber wapping dell.^1|

White thy fambles, red thy gan
And thy quarrons dainty is.
Couch a hogshead with me then.
In the darkmans clip and kiss.

^|1Morose delectation, gorbellied Aquinas ^|afrate porcospino,^a| calls this. ^|a|bLet him ^|c& welcome^c|: ^|cthy^c| quarrons dainty is.^b| Languae Language no whit worse than his. Monks with rosary beads of words Monkwords, beads ^|bin jabber on^b| their girdles, ^|bthieves' rogues'^b| words, tough nuggets ^|bpatter^b| in their pockets.^a| Passing now.^1|
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^|1|xLB's letter: headache menstruous (monthly)º^x|1|

A side eye at my ^|1Latin Quarter Hamlet^1| hat. ^|1What if I were suddenly naked? No I am not.^{1| |1}Walking^1| across the sands of ^|1all^1| the world, ^|1driven followed^1| by the sun's flaming sword, to the west, to evening lands. She trudges; schlepps, trains, drags, trascines her load. A tide westering, moondrawn, in her wake. ^|1Moondrawn Red^1| tides within her ^|1myriadislanded^{1| |1}(blood not mine)^1|, ^|1a handmaid oinopa ponton^1|, ^|1winered a winedark^1| sea, ^|1myriadislanded^1|. Behold the handmaid of the moon. ^|1In sleep^1| The wet sign rules her courses ^|1visits her calls her hour and bids her rise^1|. ^|1Bridebed, childbed, bed of death, ghostcandled.^{1| |1}Rise up, according to the word.^1| Omnis caro ad te veniet. He comes, ^|1the^1| pale vampire bat vampire, through storm his eyes, his bat sails bloodying the sea, mouth to her mouth's kiss.

Here. Put a pin in that chap, will you? My tablets. Mouth to her kiss. No, ^|1you must have must be^1| two of em. Glue em well ^|1together well^1|: Mouth to her mouth's kiss. ^|1|xa.e.i.o.uº^x|1|

His lips lipped and mouthed fleshless lips of air: Mouth to her moongrnbh moongb moongmbwb moongbm moongmb moongbhmb moongb moongmbhb moongbh moombh. ^|1Oomb, ^|atombwombing Allwombing^a|, tomb. Vowel His mouth moulded ^|aunread issuing^a| breath, ^|aunspoken unspeeched,^{a| |a}oo to ah ^|booeeehah oo, ee, eh, ah^b|a|, roar of cataractic planets, balled globed blazing roaring wayawayawayawayaway^1| Paper. The banknotes, blast them. Old Deasy's. Here, ^|1thanking you for ^|ayour the^a|,^1| tear the blank end off. Turning his back to the sun he bent across far to a slab of rock and scribbled the words. That's twice I forgot to take some slips from the library. So.

His shadow lay dark over the rocks as he bent, ending. Why not endless till the farthest star ^|1|aform of my form^a|1|?
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^|1|aThey are there darkly darkly Theyº are there^a| behind this light, darkness ^|x& bilgewater of Centaur^x| shining in the brightness, ^|x∆ of Cassiopeia^x| worlds. Me sits there, with ^|aan his^a| ash thyrsus lituus augur's ash rod of ash, in borrowed sandals, by day beside an unbeheld sea, by night walking in violet night walking beneath ^|aa reign of^a| uncouth stars.^1|
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I throw an ended shadow from me and call it back. to me. Endless, would it be mine ^|1form of my form^1|? Who watches me here? Who ^|1will read^1| ever anywhere ^|1will read^1| these written words? Signs on a white field. Somewhere to someone in your nicest voice. ^|1For the Our good^1| bishop of Cloyne took the veil of the temple out of his shovel hat, the flat cloth of
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space with ^|1signs and coloured^1| emblems hatched on its field. Hold on. Coloured on a flat: yes; that's right. ^|1Flat I see. Then think distance; flat I see. Near, far, east, back. Ah, see! Falls back suddenly, frozen in stereoscope:; click does the trick.^1| She trusts me; ^|1the gentle hand touch of her hand, gentle, her^1| softlashed eyes. Where am I supposed to be bringing her beyond the veil? The ineluctable modality of ineluctable visuality. She, she, she. ^|1Who? ^|aBut who? What she?^a| The girl stood outside Hodges Figgis on Monday looking for one of the alphabet books you were going to write. Keen glance you gave her. Hand through the braided jesse of her ^|asunshade. Lives sunshade, ladylike, lives^a| in Leeson park: a lady of letters.^{1| |1}Tell Talk^1| that to someone else ^|1a pick-me-up^1|: ten to one she wears those curse of God stays suspenders and brown ^|1darned^1| stockings. Have you no Talk about apple dumplings ^|1piutosto^1|. ^|1Have you no sense? Where are your wits?^1|

^|1|xSUN brotherº^x|1|

^|1Touch me. Hand and eyes. Touch me. ^|aTouch me. Hand and mute eyes. Touch me. Soft eyes & hand.^{a|1| |1}I am lonely. Touch me. What is that word that all the world men say? I am lonely here alone. O touch me now or soon. What is that word that all others know?^1| Will you not? Touch me, touch me.

Touch me. Soft eyes, soft soft soft hand. I am lonely here alone. O, touch me soon ^|1or touch^1| now! What is that word ^|1all others know known to ^|aall^a| men?^|a, to their hearts^a|1|. ^|1I will be quiet to hear alone. I am quiet here alone.^1| O sad too. Touch, O touch me now.

He stretched backward at full over the sharp boulders, his hat tilted down on his eyes, cramming the scribbled note and pencil into a pocket. ^|1That is Kevin Egan's ^|agesture movement, nodding for his nap^a|. Hlo! Bonjourº^1| Under the leaf he watched through ^|1quivering peacock ^|apeacock quivering ^|bpaacock twinkling peacock twittering^b|a|1| lashes the southing sun. I am caught in this burning scene. Pan's hour, the faunal noon. Among gumheavy serpent plants, milkoozing fruits, ^|1where leaves lie wide on water where on the tawny waters leaves lie wide^1|. Pain is far.

And no
And no more turn aside and brood

^|1His feet shod in the a buck's castoff boots drew his ^|abrooding^a| gaze, nebeneinander. He gazed at the creases of rucked leather wherein another's foot had nested warm. ^|aA The^a| foot that beat the ground in tripudium: a foot ^|aunread^a| I dislove. ^|aYou were delighted when Esther Osvalt's boot fitted you. A girl I knew in Paris. Tiens, quel petit pied!^a| Staunch friend. Wilde's love that dare not speak its name.^1|

Below his feet the water flowing ^|1in long ^|aarms lassoes^a| from the Cock Lake^1| sheeting greengoldenly ^|1the wastes lagoons^1| of sand, ^|1Thirty trillions of microbes in a cubic centimetre. Laudate, Dominus omnes gentes, laudate omnes populi:^1| rising,
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flowing. My ashplant will float away. I shall wait. No they are passing on ^|1by chafing against^1| the low rocks, swirling, passing.

^|1|aBetter get this over quick.^a| Listen: a fourworded wavespeech: seesoo, hrss, rsseeiss, ooos. Vehement breath of water amid seasnakes, rearing horses, rocks. In cups of rocks it slops; flop, slop, slap; bounded in barrels. And, spent, its speech ceases: it flows purling, wideflowing, floating foampool, flower unfurling.^1|

Under the upswelling tide he saw the ^|1long writhing^1| weeds lift languidly and sway reluctant arms, in whispering water ^|1sway and swaying, hising up their petticoats,^1| upturning ^|1their^1| coy fronds. Day by day, night by night lifted, flooded and let fall. Lord, they are weary: and, whispered to, they sigh. Saint Ambrose heard it sigh of leaves and waves, waiting, awaiting the fullness of their times, diebus ac noctibus iniurias patiens ingemiscit. To no end gathered, vainly then released, forthflowing, wending back: loom of the moon. Weary too, naked ^|1before in the sight of^1| men, naked and unravished, she draws her toil of waters.

^|1At one blank^1| the boatman said. Five fathoms deep there missing Full fathom five thy father lies. At one, he said. High water at Dublin bar. Driving before it a loose drift of rubble, fanshoals of fish, loose silly shells,. a A corpse. rising saltwhite from the undertow, bobbing landward. There it is. Hook it quick. Pull. We have him. Easy now.

^|1Hauled stark over the gunwale the drowned manbundle, bag Bag^1| of corpsegas, sopping of foul brine. A quiver of minnows, fatfed ^|1on a spongy titbit^1|, flashing through the slits of his ^|1buttoned^1| trouserfly. ^|1|aGod becomes^a| Man becomes fish becomes bird barnacle goose becomes featherbed mountain. Dead breaths I ^|aliving^a| breathe, I tread dead ^|abones dust^a|, eat feed ^|ato live^a| devour eat to live the a urinous offal of all dead.^{1| |1}Hauled stark over the gunwale he breathes upward the ^|asmells stench^a| of his ^|agreen addled^a| grave^1| His leprous nosehole fronting the sun.

^|1Hauled stark over the gunwale.^1| A seachange this. Seadeath, mildest of all deaths ^|1known to man^1|. ^|1Paris medal awarded Prix de Paris 1867^1|: beware of imitations. Just you give it a fair trial. We enjoyed ourselves immensely no end.
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My ^|1pilgrim's staff stick^1| waits to be picked up. ^|1My cockle hat and staff^1|. On then. Where? To evening lands. Evening will find itself. He took the handle of his ashplant, dallying with it still. Yes, evening will find itself; in me, without me. All days end make their end. By the way next when will it be Tuesday will be the longest day. Of all the glad new year, mother, with a the rum tum tiddledy tum. He is an ^|1The Oxford gentleman rhymer: lawn Tennyson Lawn Tennyson gentleman poet^1|. Già. For the old hag with the yellow ^|1fangs teeth^1|. ^|1French M. Drumont^1| gentleman journalist. ^|1That one is going too:^1| My teeth are very bad. Why, I wonder. ^|1Toothless terribility.^1|

He had taken a dry snot from his nostril and, holding it on the crook of his finger, groped vainly for his ^|1handkerchief bard's noserag^1|. Forgot it in the Tower. He laid the snot carefully on a ^|1ledge shelf^1| of rock. ^|1Mulligan's new art colourº^1| For the rest let look who will.

Behind. Perhaps there is someone.

He looked turned^|1, over his shoulder rere regardant,^{1| |1}and saw passing through the air the masts of a ship moving through the silent air ^|aa high threemaster the high spars of a threemaster^a|1|, her sails ^|1|afurled and^a|1| brailed ^|1up on the crosstrees, ^|amoving upstream silently^a|1|, ^|1passing^1| to silently ^|1on towards Dublin, silently. upstream, silently moving, a silent ship.^1|