"Inshore and farther out the mirror of water whitened,
spurned by lightshod hurrying feet. White breast of the dim
sea. The twining stresses, two by two. A hand plucked the
harpstrings, merging their twining chords. Wavewhite wedded
words shimmering on the dim tide." Joyce’s prose lushly
imitates the sounds coupling within the mind of a young artist
who still thinks of himself as a poet more than a
fiction-writer.
The "twining stresses, two by two" that Stephen recalls from
Yeats' paired spondees
(white breast, dim sea) open out to generate more couplings
linked by sense (inshore/farther out), alliteration
(water/whitened/wavewhite wedded words, hand/harpstrings),
assonance (whitened/lightshod/white
breast/twining/wavewhite/tide, spurned/hurrying/merging), and
rhyme (chords/words, shimmering/dim).
The mysterious ways in which words combine to make patterns
of beautiful sound occupy Stephen’s thoughts throughout A
Portrait and Ulysses. Proteus will
show him writing down snatches of a poem generated almost
entirely by sounds—as the villanelle in Portrait did
more impressively. In Aeolus he thinks about
Dante’s gorgeous rhymes as beautiful girls in harmonious
colors; “But I old men, penitent, leadenfooted, underdarkneath
the night: mouth south: tomb womb.” At the end of Aeolus
he takes a different tack, trying out a fragmentary story.