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Probably not a bit like it really
His voice eddying with the vowels of all rivers
came back to me . . .
—Seamus Heaney, "Station Island: XII"
When, lo, there came about them all a great brightness and they beheld the chariot wherein He stood to ascend to heaven. And they beheld Him in the chariot, clothed upon in the glory of that brightness, having raiment as of the sun, fair as the moon and terrible that for awe they durst not look upon him. And there came a voice out of heaven, calling: Elijah! Elijah! And He answered with a main cry: Abba! Adonai! And they beheld Him even Him, ben Bloom Elijah, amid clouds of angels ascend to the glory of the brightness at an angle of fortyfive degrees over Donohoe's in Little Green street like a shot off a shovel.
—James Joyce, Ulysses
ἄνδρα μοι ἔννεπε, μοῦσα . . . Happy Bloomsday!
came back to me . . .
—Seamus Heaney, "Station Island: XII"
When, lo, there came about them all a great brightness and they beheld the chariot wherein He stood to ascend to heaven. And they beheld Him in the chariot, clothed upon in the glory of that brightness, having raiment as of the sun, fair as the moon and terrible that for awe they durst not look upon him. And there came a voice out of heaven, calling: Elijah! Elijah! And He answered with a main cry: Abba! Adonai! And they beheld Him even Him, ben Bloom Elijah, amid clouds of angels ascend to the glory of the brightness at an angle of fortyfive degrees over Donohoe's in Little Green street like a shot off a shovel.
—James Joyce, Ulysses
ἄνδρα μοι ἔννεπε, μοῦσα . . . Happy Bloomsday!