Homer's cattle are literally sacred: they belong to a god and they are not to be touched. Joyce's equivalent is the body of Mrs Purefoy, three days in labour, and the unborn child she is bringing into the world. The sacredness has moved from a god's possession to the simple human fact of birth — and the sin will be measured against that.
Hooray! Ay! Whrrwhee! … Mort aux vaches! … The black crook with his anatomy of the marrow.
