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Updated: May 24, 2025
Get it out in bits. M'appari, Simon, Father Cowley said. Down stage he strode some paces, grave, tall in affliction, his long arms outheld. Hoarsely the apple of his throat hoarsed softly. Softly he sang to a dusty seascape there: A Last Farewell. A headland, a ship, a sail upon the billows. Farewell. A lovely girl, her veil awave upon the wind upon the headland, wind around her.
I searched my mind for a song, but the only one which came promptly was "M'Appari," several bars of which I gave my juvenile audience, when Budge interrupted me, saying: "I don't think that's a very good song." "Why not, Budge?" "Cos I don't. I don't know a word what you're talking 'bout." "Shing 'bout 'Glory, glory, hallelulyah," suggested Toddie, and I meekly obeyed.
Cowley sang: M'appari tutt'amor: Il mio sguardo l'incontr... She waved, unhearing Cowley, her veil, to one departing, dear one, to wind, love, speeding sail, return. Go on, Simon. Ah, sure, my dancing days are done, Ben... Well... Mr Dedalus laid his pipe to rest beside the tuningfork and, sitting, touched the obedient keys. No, Simon, Father Cowley turned. Play it in the original. One flat.
And talking of that, taking it for granted he knew all about the old favourites, he mentioned par excellence Lionel's air in Martha, M'appari, which, curiously enough, he had heard or overheard, to be more accurate, on yesterday, a privilege he keenly appreciated, from the lips of Stephen's respected father, sung to perfection, a study of the number, in fact, which made all the others take a back seat.
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