Портрет художника в юности
Chapter 4
Didhethenlovetherhythmicriseandfallofwordsbetterthantheirassociationsoflegendandcolour?Orwasitthat,beingasweakofsightashewasshyofmind,hedrewlesspleasurefromthereflectionoftheglowingsensibleworldthroughtheprismofalanguagemany-colouredandrichlystoriedthanfromthecontemplationofaninnerworldofindividualemotionsmirroredperfectlyinalucidsuppleperiodicprose?
Hepassedfromthetremblingbridgeontofirmlandagain.Atthatinstant,asitseemedtohim,theairwaschilledand,lookingaskancetowardsthewater,hesawaflyingsqualldarkeningandcrispingsuddenlythetide.Afaintclickathisheart,afaintthrobinhisthroattoldhimoncemoreofhowhisfleshdreadedthecoldinfrahumanodourofthesea;yethedidnotstrikeacrossthedownsonhisleftbutheldstraightonalongthespineofrocksthatpointedagainsttheriver’smouth.
Aveiledsunlightlitupfaintlythegreysheetofwaterwheretheriverwasembayed.Inthedistancealongthecourseoftheslow-flowingLiffeyslendermastsfleckedtheskyand,moredistantstill,thedimfabricofthecitylayproneinhaze.Likeasceneonsomevaguearras,oldasman’sweariness,theimageoftheseventhcityofchristendomwasvisibletohimacrossthetimelessair,nooldernormorewearynorlesspatientofsubjectionthaninthedaysofthethingmote.
Disheartened,heraisedhiseyestowardstheslow-driftingclouds,dappledandseaborne.
