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triumph Bloom appears, bareheaded, in a crimson velvet mantle 

trimmed with ermine, bearing Saint Edward’s staff the orb and 

sceptre with the dove, the curtana. He is seated on a milkwhite 

horse with long flowing crimson tail, richly caparisoned, with 

golden headstall. Wild excitement. The ladies from their balconies 

throw down rosepetals. The air is perfumed with essences. The 

men cheer. Bloom’s boys run amid the bystanders with branches 

of hawthorn and wrenbushes.) 

BLOOM’S BOYS: 

The wren, the wren, 

The king of all birds, 

Saint Stephen’s his day 

Was caught in the furze.  

A BLACKSMITH: (Murmurs) For the honour of God! 

And is that Bloom? He scarcely looks thirtyone. 

A PAVIOR AND FLAGGER: That’s the famous 

Bloom now, the world’s greatest reformer. Hats off! 

(All uncover their heads. Women whisper eagerly.) 

A MILLIONAIRESS: (Richly) Isn’t he simply 

wonderful? 

A NOBLEWOMAN: (Nobly) All that man has seen! 

A FEMINIST: (Masculinely) And done! 

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A BELLHANGER: A classic face! He has the forehead 

of a thinker. 

(Bloom’s weather. A sunburst appears in the northwest.) 

THE BISHOP OF DOWN AND CONNOR: I here 

present your undoubted emperor-president and king-

chairman, the most serene and potent and very puissant 

ruler of this realm. God save Leopold the First! 

ALL: God save Leopold the First! 

BLOOM:  (In dalmatic and purple mantle, to the bishop of 

Down and Connor, with dignity) Thanks, somewhat eminent 

sir. 

WILLIAM, ARCHBISHOP OF ARMAGH: (In purple 

stock and shovel hat) Will you to your power cause law and 

mercy to be executed in all your judgments in Ireland and 

territories thereunto belonging? 

BLOOM: (Placing his right hand on his testicles, swears) So 

may the Creator deal with me. All this I promise to do. 

MICHAEL, ARCHBISHOP OF ARMAGH: (Pours a 

cruse of hairoil over Bloom’s head) Gaudium magnum annuntio 

vobis. Habemus carneficem. Leopold, Patrick, Andrew, 

David, George, be thou anointed! 

(Bloom assumes a mantle of cloth of gold and puts on a ruby 

ring. He ascends and stands on the stone of destiny. The 

representative peers put on at the same time their twentyeight 

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crowns. Joybells ring in Christ church, Saint Patrick’s, George’s 

and gay Malahide. Mirus bazaar fireworks go up from all sides 

with symbolical phallopyrotechnic designs. The peers do homage, 

one by one, approaching and genuflecting.) 

THE PEERS: I do become your liege man of life and 

limb to earthly worship. 

(Bloom holds up his right hand on which sparkles the Koh-i-

Noor diamond. His palfrey neighs. Immediate silence. Wireless 

intercontinental and interplanetary transmitters are set for 

reception of message.) 

BLOOM: My subjects! We hereby nominate our 

faithful charger Copula Felix hereditary Grand Vizier and 

announce that we have this day repudiated our former 

spouse and have bestowed our royal hand upon the 

princess Selene, the splendour of night. 

(The former morganatic spouse of Bloom is hastily removed in 

the Black Maria. The princess Selene, in moonblue robes, a silver 

crescent on her head, descends from a Sedan chair, borne by two 

giants. An outburst of cheering.) 

JOHN HOWARD PARNELL: (Raises the royal 

standard) Illustrious Bloom! Successor to my famous 

brother! 

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BLOOM: (Embraces John Howard Parnell) We thank you 

from our heart, John, for this right royal welcome to green 

Erin, the promised land of our common ancestors. 

(The freedom of the city is presented to him embodied in a 

charter. The keys of Dublin, crossed on a crimson cushion, are 

given to him. He shows all that he is wearing green socks.) 

TOM KERNAN: You deserve it, your honour. 

BLOOM: On this day twenty years ago we overcame 

the hereditary enemy at Ladysmith. Our howitzers and 

camel swivel guns played on his lines with telling effect. 

Half a league onward! They charge! All is lost now! Do 

we yield? No! We drive them headlong! Lo! We charge! 

Deploying to the left our light horse swept across the 

heights of Plevna and, uttering their warcry Bonafide 

Sabaoth, sabred the Saracen gunners to a man. 

THE CHAPEL OF FREEMAN TYPESETTERS: 

Hear! Hear! 

JOHN WYSE NOLAN: There’s the man that got 

away James Stephens. 

A BLUECOAT SCHOOLBOY: Bravo! 

AN OLD RESIDENT: You’re a credit to your 

country, sir, that’s what you are. 

AN APPLEWOMAN: He’s a man like Ireland wants. 

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