Complete Works of James Joyce (180 page)

worshipful assemblage, 3 with our king’s house

1 Startnaked and bonedstiff. We vivvy soddy. All be dood.

2 When you dreamt that you’d wealth in marble arch do you ever think

of

pool beg slowe.

3 Porphyrious Olbion, redcoatliar, we were always wholly rose marines

on our side every time.

In snowdrop,

of stone, belgroved of mulbrey, the still that

trou-de-dentelle,

was mill and Kloster that was Yeomansland,

flesh and helio-

the ghastcold tombshape of the quick fore-

trope.

gone on, the loftleaved elm Lefanunian above-

Here’s our dozen

mansioned, each, every, all is for the retro-

cousins from the

spectioner. Skole! Agus skole igen! 1 Sweet-

starves on tripes.

some auburn, cometh up as a selfreizing flower,

that fragolance of the fraisey beds: the phoenix,

his pyre, is still flaming away with trueprat-

tight spirit: the wren his nest is niedelig as the

turrises of the sabines are televisible. Here are

the cottage and the bungalow for the cobbeler

and the brandnewburgher: 2 but Izolde, her

chaplet gardens, an litlee plads af liefest pose,

arride the winnerful wonders off, the winner-

ful wonnerful wanders off, 3 with hedges of

ivy and hollywood and bower of mistletoe,

are, tho if it theem tho and yeth if you

pleathes, 4 for the blithehaired daughter of

Angoisse. All out of two barreny old perishers,

Tytonyhands and Vlossyhair, a kilolitre in

metromyriams. Presepeprosapia, the parent

bole. Wone tabard, wine tap and warm tavern 5

and, by ribbon development, from contact

bridge to lease lapse, only two millium two

humbered and eighty thausig nine humbered

and sixty radiolumin lines to the wustworts of

a Finntown’s generous poet’s office. Distorted

mirage, aloofliest of the plain, wherein the

1 Now a muss wash the little face.

2 A
viking vernacular expression still used in the Summerhill district

for a

jerryhatted man of forty who puts two fingers into his boiling soupplate

and

licks them in turn to find out if there is enough mushroom catsup in the

mutton broth.

3 H’dk’fs’h’p’y.

4 Googlaa pluplu.

5 Tomley. The grown man. A butcher szewched him the bloughs and

braches. I’m chory to see P. Shuter.

Bet you fippence,

boxomeness of the bedelias 1 makes hobby-

PREAUSTERIC

anythesious,

hodge happy in his hole. 2 The store and

MAN AND HIS

there’s no pug-

charter, Treetown Castle under Lynne.-Riva-

PURSUIT OF

gatory, are yous

pool? Hod a brieck on it! But its piers eerie,

PAN-

game?

its span spooky, its toll but a till, its parapets

HYSTERIC

all peripateting. D’Oblong’s by his by. Which

WOMAN.

we all pass. Tons. In our snoo. Znore. While

we hickerwards the thicker. Schein. Schore.

Which assoars us from the murk of the mythe-

lated in the barrabelowther, bedevere butlered

table round, past Morningtop’s necessity and

Harington’s invention, to the clarience of the

childlight in the studiorium upsturts. Here