Улисс
Chapter 2
Herecitedjerksofversewithoddglancesatthetext:
—Weepnomore,wofulshepherds,weepnomore
ForLycidas,yoursorrow,isnotdead,
Sunkthoughhebebeneaththewateryfloor...
Itmustbeamovementthen,anactualityofthepossibleaspossible.Aristotle’sphraseformeditselfwithinthegabbledversesandfloatedoutintothestudioussilenceofthelibraryofSaintGenevievewherehehadread,shelteredfromthesinofParis,nightbynight.ByhiselbowadelicateSiameseconnedahandbookofstrategy.Fedandfeedingbrainsaboutme:underglowlamps,impaled,withfaintlybeatingfeelers:andinmymind’sdarknessaslothoftheunderworld,reluctant,shyofbrightness,shiftingherdragonscalyfolds.Thoughtisthethoughtofthought.Tranquilbrightness.Thesoulisinamannerallthatis:thesoulistheformofforms.Tranquilitysudden,vast,candescent:formofforms.
Talbotrepeated:
—ThroughthedearmightofHimthatwalkedthewaves,
Throughthedearmight...
—Turnover,Stephensaidquietly.Idon’tseeanything.
—What,sir?Talbotaskedsimply,bendingforward.
Hishandturnedthepageover.Heleanedbackandwentonagain,havingjustremembered.Ofhimthatwalkedthewaves.Herealsooverthesecravenheartshisshadowliesandonthescoffer’sheartandlipsandonmine.Itliesupontheireagerfaceswhoofferedhimacoinofthetribute.ToCaesarwhatisCaesar’s,toGodwhatisGod’s.Alonglookfromdarkeyes,ariddlingsentencetobewovenandwovenonthechurch’slooms.Ay.
Riddleme,riddleme,randyro.
Myfathergavemeseedstosow.
