Gemini.Finnegans.Wake.12
Now after all that tarfatch’d and peragrine or dingnant or clere lift we our ears, eyes of the darkenss, form the tome of Liberlividus and, (toh!), how paisibly eirenical, all dimmering dunes and gloamering glades, selfstretches afore us our fredeland’s plain! Lean neath stone pine the pastor lies with his crook; young pricket by pricket’s sister nibbleth on returned viridities; amaid her rocking grasses the herb trinity shams lowliness; skyup is of evergrey. Thus, too, for donkey’s years. Since the bouts of Hebear and Hairyman hte cornflowers have been staying at Ballymum the duskrose has choosed out Goatstown’s hedges, two lips have pressed togetherthem by sweet Rush, townland of twinedlights, the whitethorn and the redthorn have fairygeyed the mayvalleys of Knockmaroon, and though for rings round them, during a chiliad of perihelygangs, the formoreans have brittled the tooath of the Danes and the Oxman has been pestered by the Firebugs and the Joynts have thrown up jerry building to the Kevanses and Little on the Green is childsfather to the City (Year! Year! And laughtears!), these paxsealing buttonholes have quadrilled across the centuries and whiff now whafft to us, fresh and made-of all-smiles as on the eve of Killallwho.
After the dense and difficult history of the previous sections, this paragraph is like a breath of fresh air. As Monday night settles, we lift our eyes from the tome of Liberlividus (the “Book of the Livid,” the book of anger and bruises) and are greeted with a peaceful, idyllic landscape.
A Scene of Peace
Joyce paints a classic pastoral scene:
Lean neath stone pine the pastor lies with his crook; young pricket by pricket’s sister nibbleth on returned viridities; amaid her rocking grasses the herb trinity shams lowliness; skyup is of evergrey.
A shepherd rests, young deer graze on new green shoots, and the Irish shamrock (the herb trinity) hides humbly in the grass, all beneath a typically grey Irish sky. It is an image of profound and timeless peace.
Nature’s Endurance in Dublin
This peace, we are told, has endured for ages, despite the endless cycles of conflict. Joyce grounds this endurance in the specific geography of Dublin, which you can see around you today:
- Since the mythical first battles,
cornflowers have been staying at Ballymun. - The
duskrose has choosed out Goatstown's hedges. - The whitethorn and redthorn have enchanted the valleys of
Knockmaroon.
History vs. Flowers
The paragraph’s central message is a contrast between the violent, chaotic history of humanity and the quiet resilience of nature. Joyce lists a whirlwind of Dublin’s history:
- Mythical giants (Fomorians) fighting the Danes.
- Norsemen (Oxmen) being attacked.
- Shoddy modern development (
jerry building).
The history of the city is a mix of laughtears! (laughter and tears). But despite all this, the simple paxsealing buttonholes (peace-sealing flowers) have danced through the centuries. Their scent comes to us now, just as fresh as it was on the eve of Killallwho (a great, bloody battle).
The ultimate message is one of hope. The small, beautiful, natural things—the flowers in the hedgerows of Goatstown, the thorns in the valleys of Knockmaroon—outlast all the wars, conflicts, and grand monuments of men.
11/08/2025, P.15.11, to be continued.