Page 306 - a-portrait-of-the-artist-as-a-young-man

and clamour of the first chanting of the passion:
—ET TU CUM JESU GALILAEO ERAS.
And all hearts were touched and turned to her voice,
shining like a young star, shining clearer as the voice in-
toned the proparoxytone and more faintly as the cadence
died.
The singing ceased. They went on together, Cranly re-
peating in strongly stressed rhythm the end of the refrain:

And when we are married,
O, how happy we’ll be
For I love sweet Rosie O’Grady
And Rosie O’Grady loves me.

—There’s real poetry for you, he said. There’s real love.
He glanced sideways at Stephen with a strange smile and
said:
—Do you consider that poetry? Or do you know what
the words mean?
—I want to see Rosie first, said Stephen.
—She’s easy to find, Cranly said.
His hat had come down on his forehead. He shoved it
back and in the shadow of the trees Stephen saw his pale
face, framed by the dark, and his large dark eyes. Yes. His
face was handsome and his body was strong and hard. He
had spoken of a mother’s love. He felt then the sufferings
of women, the weaknesses of their bodies and souls; and
would shield them with a strong and resolute arm and bow
his mind to them.

306 A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man