Page:Ulysses, 1922.djvu/212

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their skirts to step over you as you lay in your mulberrycoloured, multicoloured,
multitudinous vomit!
        The most innocent son of Erin, Stephen said, for whom they ever
lifted them.
       About to pass through the doorway, feeling one behind, he stood aside.
       Part. The moment is now. Where then? If Socrates leave his house today,
if Judas go forth tonight. Why? That lies in space which I in time must come
to, ineluctably.
       My will : his will that fronts me. Seas between.
       A man passed out between them, bowing, greeting.
        Good day again, Buck Mulligan said.
       The portico.
       Here I watched the birds for augury. Ængus of the birds. They go, they
come. Last night I flew. Easily flew. Men wandered. Street of harlots after.
A creamfruit melon he held to me. In. You will see.
        The wandering jew, Buck Mulligan whispered with clown’s awe. Did
you see his eye? He looked upon you to lust after you. I fear thee, ancient
mariner. O, Kinch, thou art in peril. Get thee a breechpad.
       Manner of Oxenford.
       Day. Wheelbarrow sun over arch of bridge.
       A dark back went before them. Step of a pard, down, out by the gateway,
under portcullis barbs.
       They followed.
       Offend me still. Speak on.
       Kind air defined the coigns of houses in Kildare street. No birds. Frail
from the housetops two plumes of smoke ascended, pluming, and in a flaw of
softness softly were blown.
       Cease to strive. Peace of the druid priests of Cymbeline, hierophantic : from
wide earth an altar.

                                             Laud we the gods
                      And let our crooked smokes climb to their nostrils
                      From our bless’d altars.