Page 435 - ULYSSES

Ulysses

dagger. Somewhere here lord Edward Fitzgerald escaped
from major Sirr. Stables behind Moira house.
Damn good gin that was.
Fine dashing young nobleman. Good stock, of course.

That ruffian, that sham squire, with his violet gloves gave
him away. Course they were on the wrong side. They
rose in dark and evil days. Fine poem that is: Ingram.
They were gentlemen. Ben Dollard does sing that ballad
touchingly. Masterly rendition.
At the siege of Ross did my father fall.
A cavalcade in easy trot along Pembroke quay passed,
outriders leaping, leaping in their, in their saddles.
Frockcoats. Cream sunshades.
Mr Kernan hurried forward, blowing pursily.
His Excellency! Too bad! Just missed that by a hair.
Damn it! What a pity!

* * * * *

Stephen Dedalus watched through the webbed window
the lapidary’s fingers prove a timedulled chain. Dust
webbed the window and the showtrays. Dust darkened
the toiling fingers with their vulture nails. Dust slept on

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