Page 779 - ULYSSES

Ulysses

newbegotten thou shalt gather thy homer of ripe wheat.
See, thy fleece is drenched. Dost envy Darby Dullman
there with his Joan? A canting jay and a rheumeyed
curdog is all their progeny. Pshaw, I tell thee! He is a

mule, a dead gasteropod, without vim or stamina, not
worth a cracked kreutzer. Copulation without population!
No, say I! Herod’s slaughter of the innocents were the
truer name. Vegetables, forsooth, and sterile cohabitation!
Give her beefsteaks, red, raw, bleeding! She is a hoary
pandemonium of ills, enlarged glands, mumps, quinsy,
bunions, hayfever, bedsores, ringworm, floating kidney,
Derbyshire neck, warts, bilious attacks, gallstones, cold
feet, varicose veins. A truce to threnes and trentals and
jeremies and all such congenital defunctive music! Twenty
years of it, regret them not. With thee it was not as with
many that will and would and wait and never—do. Thou
sawest thy America, thy lifetask, and didst charge to cover
like the transpontine bison. How saith Zarathustra? Deine
Kuh Trübsal melkest Du. Nun Trinkst Du die süsse Milch des
Euters. See! it displodes for thee in abundance. Drink,
man, an udderful! Mother’s milk, Purefoy, the milk of
human kin, milk too of those burgeoning stars overhead
rutilant in thin rainvapour, punch milk, such as those
rioters will quaff in their guzzling den, milk of madness,

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