Margaret’s Song

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  There was a king in Thule,  True even to the grave;  To whom his dying mistress  A golden beaker gave.  At every feast he drained it,  Naught was to him so dear,  And often as he drained it,  Gush’d from his eyes the tear.  When death came, unrepining  His cities o’er he told;  All to his heir resigning,  Except his cup of gold.  With many a knightly vassal  At a royal feast sat he,  In yon proud hall ancestral,  In his castle o’er the sea.  Up stood the jovial monarch,  And quaff’d his last life’s glow,  Then hurled the hallow’d goblet  Into the flood below.  He saw it splashing, drinking,  And plunging in the sea;  His eyes meanwhile were sinking,  And never again drank he. “Margaret’s Song” by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe (1749–1832) in “Faust. Part I.”

Happy Bloomsday

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We interrupt our irregularly scheduled flight of fancy that we might observe this day, June 16, known to most bookworms (the Irish ones, in particular) as “Bloomsday.” Herein we celebrate (with as much reserve as panache) the literary marvel that is “Ulysses” as written by James Joyce. The novel in its entirety takes place on this one day in 1904, telling the story of a man who is trying to avoid going home to his wife. In ironic real life, it was the same day Joyce met his wife-to-be. Love it and hate it. It’s not an easy read, but it’s definitely rewarding. It does not soften reality.

I’ve provided below a sample from his work that I find most poetic, as the rhythm and alliteration are astounding. Read slowly, out loud. Pay attention to the sounds of the letters, the words. Genius!

My copy was published in 1961 and contains in the forward, “The Monumental Decision Of The United States District Court Rendered December 6, 1933, By Honorable John M. Wolsey Lifting The Ban On ‘Ulysses.’” Fascinating.

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