Page 261 - a-portrait-of-the-artist-as-a-young-man

the words PANGE LINGUA GLORIOSI. They say it is the
highest glory of the hymnal. It is an intricate and soothing
hymn. I like it; but there is no hymn that can be put beside
that mournful and majestic processional song, the VEXIL-
LA REGIS of Venantius Fortunatus.
Lynch began to sing softly and solemnly in a deep bass
voice:

IMPLETA SUNT QUAE CONCINIT
DAVID FIDELI CARMINE
DICENDO NATIONIBUS
REGNAVIT A LIGNO DEUS.

—That’s great! he said, well pleased. Great music!
They turned into Lower Mount Street. A few steps from
the corner a fat young man, wearing a silk neckcloth, salut-
ed them and stopped.
—Did you hear the results of the exams? he asked. Grif-
fin was plucked. Halpin and O’Flynn are through the home
civil. Moonan got fifth place in the Indian. O’Shaughnessy
got fourteenth. The Irish fellows in Clark’s gave them a feed
last night. They all ate curry.
His pallid bloated face expressed benevolent malice and,
as he had advanced through his tidings of success, his small
fat-encircled eyes vanished out of sight and his weak wheez-
ing voice out of hearing.
In reply to a question of Stephen’s his eyes and his voice
came forth again from their lurking-places.
—Yes, MacCullagh and I, he said. He’s taking pure

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