Come, let us rejoice in James Joyce, in the greatness of this poet,
 king, and king of poets
For he is our poor dead king, he is the monarch and Caesar of English,
 he is the veritable King of the King's English

 The English of the life of the city,
 and the English of music;

Let them rejoice because he rejoiced and was joyous;
For his joy was superior, it was supreme, for it was accomplished
After the suffering of much evil, the evil of the torment of pride,
By the overcoming of disgust and despair by means of the confrontation of them
By the enduring of nausea, the supporting of exile, the drawing from
 the silence of exile, the pure arias of the
 hidden music of all things, all beings.
For the joy of Joyce was earned by the sweat of the bow of his mind
 by the tears of the agony of his heart;
 hence it was gained, mastered, and conquered,
 (hence it was not a gift and freely given,
 a mercy often granted to masters,
 as if they miraculous were natural -)
For he earned his joy and ours by the domination of evil by 
 confrontation and the exorcism of language
 in all its powers of imitation and
 imagination and radiance and delight....