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"The froeken, bonne à tout faire, who rubs male nakedness in the bath at Upsala. Moi faire, she said, tous les messieurs. Not this monsieur, I said. Most licentious custom. Bath a most private thing. I wouldn't let my brother, not even my own brother, most lascivious thing." U3.234) |
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"How the head centre got away, authentic version. Got up as a young bride, man, veil, orangeblossoms, drove out the road to Malahide." (U3.241) |
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"Green eyes, I see you. Fang, I feel. Lascivious people." (U3.248) |
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"In gay Paree he hides, Egan of Paris, unsought by any save by me. Making his day's stations, the dingy printingcase, his three taverns," (U3.249) |
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"the Montmartre lair he sleeps short night in, rue de la Goutte-d'Or, damascened with flyblown faces of the gone." (U3.251) |
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"Tell Pat you saw me, won't you? I wanted to get poor Pat a job one time. Mon fils, soldier of France." (U3.256) |
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"I taught him to sing. The boys of Kilkenny are stout roaring blades. Know that old lay? I taught Patrice that. Old Kilkenny: saint Canice," (U3.257) |
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"Strongbow's castle on the Nore. Goes like this." (U2.259) |
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"A shut door of a silent tower entombing their blind bodies, the panthersahib and his pointer. Call: no answer. He lifted his feet up from the suck and turned back by the mole of boulders. Take all, keep all. My soul walks with me, form of forms. So in the moon's midwatches I pace the path above the rocks, in sable silvered, hearing Elsinore's tempting flood." (U3.276) |
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"Hide gold there. Try it. You have some. Sands and stones. Heavy of the past. Sir Lout's toys. Mind you don't get one bang on the ear." (U3.290) |
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" I'm the bloody well gigant rolls all them bloody well boulders, bones for my steppingstones. Feefawfum. I zmellz de bloodz odz an Iridzman." (U3.291) |
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"A point, live dog, grew into sight running across the sweep of sand. Lord, is he going to attack me? Respect his liberty. You will not be master of others or their slave. I have my stick. Sit tight." (U3.294) |
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"Dane vikings, torcs of tomahawks aglitter on their breasts when Malachi wore the collar of gold. A school of turlehide whales stranded in hot noon, spouting, hobbling in the shallows. Then from the starving cagework city a horde of jerkined dwarfs, my people, with flayers' knives, running, scaling, hacking in green blubbery whalemeat." (U3.301) Malachi was a King of Ireland in the 10c. who defeated 2 champions of the Danes, carrying away as trophies respectively a collar of gold and a sword.The poem 'Let Erin Remember the Days of Old' by Thomas Moore (Irish Melodies V. 2) starts with: 'Let Erin remember the days of old, Ere her faithless sons betray'd her; When Malachi wore the collar of gold, Which he won from her proud invader, When her kings, with standard of green unfurl'd, Led the Red-Branch Knights to danger!' |
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"Famine, plague and slaughters. Their blood is in me, their lusts my waves. I moved among them on the frozen Liffey, that I, a changeling, among the spluttering resin fires. I spoke to no-one: none to me." (U3.306) One cannot help think of the 1916 rebellion, as in this PC showing ruins on the side of the Liffey. |
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"The dog's bark ran towards him, stopped, ran back. Dog of my enemy. I just simply stood pale, silent, bayed about. Terribilia meditans. A primrose doublet, fortune's knave, smiled on my fear. For that are you pining, the bark of their applause? Pretenders: live their lives." (U3.310) |