Page:Ulysses, 1922.djvu/26

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       His plump body plunged.
        We’ll see you again, Haines said, turning as Stephen walked up the
path and smiling at wild Irish.
       Horn of a bull, hoof of a horse, smile of a Saxon.
        The Ship, Buck Mulligan cried. Half twelve.
        Good, Stephen said.
       He walked along the upwardcurving path.

                                  Liliata rutilantium.
                                  Turma circumdet.
                                  Jubilantium te virginum

       The priest’s grey nimbus in a niche where he dressed discreetly. I will
not sleep here tonight. Home also I cannot go.
       A voice, sweettoned and sustained, called to him from the sea. Turning
the curve he waved his hand. It called again. A sleek brown head, a seal’s, far
out on the water, round.