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The haughty Primate's temper,.. to dissuade
By politic argument, and chiefly urged
The quick and fiery nature of our nation,..
How at the sight of such indignity,

They would arise in arms, and limb from limb
Tear piecemeal him and all his company.
So far did this prevail, that he will now
Commit the deed in secret; and, this night,
Thy father's body from its resting place,
O Madoc! shall be torn, and cast aside
In some unhallow'd pit, with foul disgrace
And contumelious wrong.

Sayest thou to-night?
Quoth Madoc... Ay, at midnight, he replied,
Shall this impiety be perpetrated.

Therefore hath Gerald, for the reverence
He bears to Owen's royal memory,
Sent thee the tidings. Now be temperate
In thy just anger, Prince! and shed no blood.
Thou know'st how dearly the Plantagenet
Atones for Becket's death; and be thou sure,
Though thou thyself shouldst sail beyond the storm,
That it would fall on Britain.

While he spake,

Madoc was still; the feeling work'd too deep For speech, or visible sign. At length he said, What if amid their midnight sacrilege

I should appear among them?

It were well; The Monk replied, if, at a sight like that, Thou canst withhold thy hand.

Oh, fear me not!
Good and true friend, said Madoc. I am calm,
And calm as thou beholdest me will prove
In word and action. Quick I am to feel
Light ills,.. perhaps o'er-hasty: summer gnats,
Finding my cheek unguarded, may infix
Their skin-deep stings, to vex and irritate;
But if the wolf, or forest boar, be nigh,
I am awake to danger. Even so
Bear I a mind of steel and adamant

Against all greater wrongs. My heart hath now
Received its impulse; and thou shalt behold
How in this strange and hideous circumstance
I shall find profit. . . . Only, my true friend,
Let me have entrance.

At the western porch,

Between the complines and the matin-bell, . .
The Monk made answer: thou shalt find the door
Ready. Thy single person will suffice;

For Baldwin knows his danger, and the hour
Of guilt or fear convicts him, both alike
Opprobrious. Now, farewell!

Then Madoc took

His host aside, and in his private ear
Told him the purport, and wherein his help
Was needed. Night came on; the hearth was heapt,
The women went to rest. They twain, the while,
Sate at the board, and while the untasted bowl
Stood by them, watch'd the glass whose falling sands
Told out the weary hours. The hour is come;
Prince Madoc helm'd his head, and from his neck
He slung the bugle-horn; they took their shields,
And lance in hand went forth. And now arrived,
The bolts give back before them, and the door
Rolls on its heavy hinge.

Beside the grave

Stood Baldwin and the Prior, who, albeit
Cambrian himself, in fear and awe obey'd
The lordly Primate's will. They stood and watch'd
Their ministers perform the irreverent work.
And now with spade and mattock have they broken
Into the house of death, and now have they
From the stone coffin wrench'd the iron cramps,
When sudden interruption startled them,
And clad in complete mail from head to foot,
They saw the Prince come in. Their tapers gleam'd
Upon his visage, as he wore his helm

Open; and when in that pale countenance,..
For the strong feeling blanch'd his cheek,..they saw
His father's living lineaments, a fear

Like ague shook them. But anon that fit
Of scared imagination to the sense

Of other peril yielded, when they heard

Prince Madoc's dreadful voice. Stay! he exclaim'd,
As now they would have fled; . . stir not a man,. .
Or if I once put breath into this horn,
All Wales will hear, as if dead Owen call'd
For vengeance from that grave. Stir not a man,
The doors are watch'd,

Or not a man shall live!
And ye are at my mercy!

But at that,
Baldwin from the altar seized the crucifix,
And held it forth to Madoc, and cried out,
He who strikes me, strikes Him; forbear, on pain
Of endless

Peace! quoth Madoc, and profane not The holy Cross, with those polluted hands Of midnight sacrilege!.. Peace! I harm thee not,.. Be wise, and thou art safe... For thee, thou know'st, Prior, that if thy treason were divulged, David would hang thee on thy steeple top, To feed the steeple daws: Obey and live! Go, bring fine linen and a coffer meet To bear these relics; and do ye, meanwhile, Proceed upon your work.

They at his word

Raised the stone cover, and display'd the dead,
In royal grave-clothes habited, his arms
Cross'd on the breast, with precious gums and spice
Fragrant, and incorruptibly preserved.

At Madoc's bidding, round the corpse they wrap

The linen web, fold within fold involved;

They laid it in the coffer, and with cloth

At head and foot filled every interval

And prest it down compact; they closed the lid,
And Madoc with his signet seal'd it thrice.
Then said he to his host, Bear thou at dawn
This treasure to the ships. My father's bones
Shall have their resting-place, where mine one day
May moulder by their side. He shall be free
In death, who living did so well maintain
As for ye,
His and his country's freedom.
For your own safety, ye I wean will keep
My secret safe. So saying, he went his way.

XVI. DAVID.

Now hath the Lord of Ocean once again Set foot in Mona. Llaian there receives Sisterly greeting from the royal maid,

Who, while she tempers to the public eye
Her welcome, safely to the boy indulged
In fond endearments of instinctive love.
When the first flow of joy was overpast,

How went the equipment on, the Prince enquired.
Nay, brother, quoth Goervyl, ask thou that
Of Urien;.. it hath been his sole employ
Daily from cock-crow until even-song,
That he hath laid aside all other thoughts,
Forgetful even of me! She said and smiled
Playful reproach upon the good old man,
Who in such chiding as affection loves,

Dallying with terms of wrong, return'd rebuke.
There, Madoc, pointing to the shore, he cried,
There are they moor'd; six gallant barks, as trim
And worthy of the sea as ever yet

Gave canvass to the gale. The mariners
Flock to thy banner, and the call hath roused
Many a brave spirit. Soon as Spring shall serve,
There need be no delay. I should depart
Without one wish that lingers, could we bear
Ririd from hence, and break poor Rodri's chains,
Thy lion-hearted brother; ... and that boy,
If he were with us, Madoc! that dear boy
Llewelyn!

Sister, said the Prince at that,

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His rising wrath. If I should tell thee, Sire,
He answer'd, by what chance it so fell out,
I should of disobedience stand excused,
Even were it here a crime. Yet think again,
David, and let thy better mind prevail !

I am his surety here; he comes alone;
The strength of yonder armament is mine;
And when did I deceive thee?
I did hope,

For natural love and public decency,

That ye would part in friendship... let that pass !
He may remain and join me in the hour
Of embarkation. But for thine own sake,

Cast off these vile suspicions, and the fear
That makes its danger! Call to mind, my brother,
The rampart that we were to Owen's throne !
Are there no moments when the thoughts and loves
Of other days return?.. Let Rodri loose!
Restore him to his birthright!.. Why wouldst thou
Hold him in chains, when benefits would bind
His noble spirit?

Leave me cried the King;
Thou know'st the theme is hateful to my ear.
I have the mastery now, and idle words,
Madoc, shall never thrust me from the throne,
Which this right arm in battle hardly won.
There must he lie till nature set him free,
And so deliver both. Trespass no more!

A little yet bear with me, Madoc cried.
I leave this land for ever; let me first
Behold my brother Rodri, lest he think
My summer love be withered, and in wrath
Remember me hereafter.

Leave me, Madoc!

Speedily, ere indulgence grow a fault,
Exclaim'd the Monarch. Do not tempt my wrath;
Thou know'st me!

Ay! the Ocean Prince replied,

I know thee, David, and I pity thee,
Thou poor, suspicious, miserable man!
Friend hast thou none, except thy country's foe,
That hateful Saxon, he whose bloody hand
Pluck'd out thy brethren's eyes; and for thy kin,
Them hast thou made thy perilous enemies.
What if the Lion Rodri were abroad?
What if Llewelyn's banner were display'd?
The sword of England could not save thee then.
Frown not, and menace not! for what am I,
That I should fear thine anger?.. And with that
He turn'd indignant from the wrathful king.

XVII.

THE DEPARTURE.

WINTER hath pass'd away; the vernal storms

Have spent their rage, the ships are stored, and now
To-morrow they depart. That day a Boy,

Weary and foot-sore, to Aberfraw came,
Who to Goervyl's chamber made his way,
And caught the hem of her garment, and exclaim'd,
A boon,.. a boon,.. dear Lady! Nor did he
Wait more reply than that encouragement,
Which her sweet eye and lovely smile bestow'd;
I am a poor, unhappy, orphan boy,
Born to fair promises and better hopes,
But now forlorn. Take me to be your page!.
For blessed Mary's sake, refuse me not!

I have no friend on earth, nor hope but this.

The boy was fair; and though his eyes were swoln,
And cheek defiled with tears, and though his voice
Came choak'd by grief, yet to that earnest eye
And supplicating voice so musical,

It had not sure been easy to refuse
The boon he begg'd. I cannot grant thy suit,
Goervyl cried, but I can aid it, boy!..

Go ask of Madoc!.. And herself arose,
And led him where her brother on the shore

That day the last embarkment oversaw. Mervyn then took his mantle by the skirt, And knelt and made his suit; she too began To sue, but Madoc smiling on the Maid, Won by the virtue of the countenance Which look'd for favour, lightly gave the yes.

Where wert thou, Caradoc, when that fair boy Told his false tale? for hadst thou heard the voice, The gentle voice so musically sweet,

And seen that earnest eye, it would have heal'd
Thy wounded heart, and thou hadst voyaged on
The happiest man that ever yet forsook
His native country! He, on board the bark,
Leant o'er the vessel-side, and there he stood
And gazed, almost unconscious that he gazed,
Toward yon distant mountains where she dwelt,
Senena, his beloved. Caradoc,
Senena, thy beloved, is at hand!

Her golden locks are clipt, and her blue eye
Is wandering through the throng in search of thee,
For whose dear sake she hath forsaken all.
You deem her false, that her frail constancy
Shrunk from her father's anger, that she lives
Another's victim bride; but she hath fled
From that unnatural anger; hath escaped
The unnatural union; she is on the shore,
Senena, blue-eyed maid, a seemly boy,
To share thy fortunes, to reward thy love,
And to the land of peace to follow thee,
Over the ocean waves.

Now all is done.
Stores, beeves and flocks and water all aboard;
The dry East blows, and not a sign of change
Stains the clear firmament. The Sea-Lord sate
At the last banquet in his brother's court,
And heard the song: It told of Owen's fame,
When with his Normen and assembled force
Of Guienne and Gascony, and Anjou's strength,
The Fleming's aid and England's chosen troops,
Along the ascent of Berwyn, many a day
The Saxon vainly on his mountain foes
Denounced his wrath; for Mona's dragon sons,
By wary patience baffled long his force,
Winning slow Famine to their aid 1, and help'd
By the angry Elements, and Sickness sent
From Heaven, and Fear that of its vigour robb'd
The healthy arm;.. then in quick enterprize
Fell on his weary and dishearten'd host,
Till with defeat and loss and obloquy
He fied with all his nations.
His spirit to the song; he felt the theme
In every pulse; the recollection came,
Revived and heighten'd to intenser pain,
That in Aberfraw, in his father's hall,

Madoc gave

He never more should share the feast, nor hear The echoing harp again! His heart was full;

1 "I am much affected," says old Fuller, "with the ingenuity of an English nobleman, who, following the camp of King Henry III. in these parts (Caernarvonshire), wrote home to his friends, about the end of September, 1243, the naked truth indeed as followeth: We lie in our tents, watching, fasting, praying, and freezing; we watch for fear of the Welshmen, who are wont to invade us in the night; we fast for want of meat, for the half-penny loaf is worth

And, yielding to its yearnings, in that mood
Of aweful feeling, he call'd forth the King,
And led him from the palace-porch, and stretch'd
His hand toward the ocean, and exclaim'd,
To-morrow over yon wide waves I go;
To-morrow, never to return, I leave
My native land! O David, O my brother,
Turn not impatiently a reckless ear

To that affectionate and natural voice
Which thou wilt hear no more! Release our brethren,
Recall the wanderers home, and link them to thee
By cordial confidence, by benefits

Which bless the benefactor. Be not thou
As is the black and melancholy yew

That strikes into the grave its baleful rocts,

And prospers on the dead!?.. The Saxon King, ..
Think not I wrong him now; . . an hour like this
Hath soften'd all my harsher feelings down;
Nor will I hate him for his sister's sake,
Thy gentle Queen,.. whom, that great God may bless,
And, blessing her, bless thee and our dear country,
Shall never be forgotten in my prayers;
But he is far away; and should there come
The evil hour upon thee,. . if thy kin,
Wearied by suffering, and driven desperate,
Should lift the sword, or young Llewelyn raise
His banner and demand his father's throne,..
Were it not trusting to a broken reed,
To lean on England's aid?.. I urge thee not
For answer now; but sometimes, O my brother!
Sometimes recall to mind my parting words,
As 'twere the death-bed counsel of the friend
Who loved thee best!

The affection of his voice,
So mild and solemn, soften'd David's heart;
He saw his brother's eyes, suffused with tears,
Shine in the moon-beam as he spake; the King
Remember'd his departure, and he felt
Feelings, which long from his disnatured breast
Ambition had expell'd: he could almost

Have follow'd their strong impulse. From the shore,
Madoc with quick and agitated step

Had sought his home; the monarch went his way,
Serious and slow, and laid him down that night
With painful recollections, and such thoughts,
As might, if Heaven had will'd it, have matured
To penitence and peace.

The day is come,
The adventurers in Saint Cybi's holy fane
Hear the last mass, and all assoil'd of sin
Partake the bread of Christian fellowship.
Then, as the Priest his benediction gave,
They knelt, in such an aweful stillness hush'd,
As with yet more oppression seem'd to load
The burthen'd heart. At times and half supprest,
Womanly sobs were heard, and manly cheeks
Were wet with silent tears. Now forth they go,

five pence; we pray to God to send us home speedily; we freeze for want of winter garments, having nothing but thin linen betwixt us and the wind,'"

2 "Like the black and melancholick yew-tree,
Dost think to root thyself in dead men's graves,
And yet to prosper?"

Webster's White Devil, or Vittoria Corombona.

And at the portal of the Church unfurl

Prince Madoc's banner; at that sight a shout Burst from his followers, and the hills and rocks Thrice echoed their acclaim.

There lie the ships,
Their sails all loose, their streamers rolling out
With sinuous flow and swell, like water-snakes,
Curling aloft; the waves are gay with boats,
Pinnace and barge and coracle, . . the sea
Swarms like the shore with life. Oh what a sight
Of beauty for the spirit unconcern'd,

If heart there be which unconcern'd could view
A sight like this!.. how yet more beautiful
For him, whose soul can feel and understand
The solemn import! Yonder they embark,
Youth, beauty, valour, virtue, reverend age;
Some led by love of noble enterprize,
Others, who, desperate of their country's weal,
Fly from the impending yoke; all warm alike
With confidence and high heroic hope,
And all in one fraternal bond conjoin'd
By reverence to their Chief, the best beloved
That ever yet on hopeful enterprize
Led gallant army forth. He, even now
Lord of himself, by faith in God and love
To man subdues the feeling of this hour,
The bitterest of his being.

At this time,

Pale, and with feverish eye, the King came up,
And led him somewhat from the throng apart,
Saying, I sent at day-break to release
Rodri from prison, meaning that with thee
He should depart in peace; but he was gone,
This very night he had escaped!.. Perchance,
As I do hope,.. it was thy doing, Madoc?
Is he aboard the fleet?

I would he were !
Madoc replied; with what a lighten'd heart
Then should I sail away! Ririd is there
Alone... alas! that this was done so late!

Reproach me not! half sullenly the King,
Answering, exclaim'd; Madoc, reproach me not!
Thou know'st how hardly I attain'd the throne;
And is it strange that I should guard with fear
The precious prize?.. Now,.. when I would have taken
Thy counsel,.. be the evil on his head!

Blame me not now, my brother, lest sometimes
I call again to mind thy parting words

In sorrow!

God be with thee! Madoc cried;

And if at times the harshness of a heart,

Follow'd Goervyl to the extremest shore.
But then as on the plank the maid set foot,
Did Emma, staying her by the hand, pluck out
The crucifix, which next her heart she wore
In reverence to its relic, and she cried,
Yet ere we part change with me, dear Goervyl,..
Dear sister, loved too well, or lost too soon!..
I shall betake me often to my prayers,
Never in them, Goervyl, of thy name
Unmindful;.. thou too wilt remember me
Still in thy orisons; . . but God forefend
That ever misery should make thee find
This Cross thy only comforter !

She said,
And kiss'd the holy pledge, as each to each
Transferr'd the mutual gift. Nor could the Maid
Answer for agony, to that farewell;

She held Queen Emma to her breast, and close
She clsap'd her with a strong convulsive sob,
Silently. Madoc too in silence went,

But prest a kiss on Emma's lips, and left
His tears upon her cheek. With dizzy eyes
Gazing she stood, nor saw the boat push off,..
The dashing of the oars awaken'd her;
She wipes her tears away, to view once more
Those dear familiar faces; . . they are dim
In the distance; never shall her waking eye
Behold them, till the hour of happiness,
When death hath made her pure for perfect bliss!!

Two hearts alone of all that company,

Of all the thousands who beheld the scene,
Partook unmingled joy. Dumb with delight,
Young Hoel views the ships and feels the boat
Rock on the heaving waves; and Llaian felt
Comfort,.. though sad, yet comfort,.. that for her
No eye was left to weep, nor heart to mourn.

Hark! 'tis the mariners with voice attuned Timing their toil! and now with gentle gales, Slow from the holy haven they depart.

XVIII. RODRI.

Now hath the evening settled; the broad Moon
Rolls through the rifted clouds. With gentle gales
Slowly they glide along, when they behold

A boat with press of sail and stress of oar
Speed forward to the fleet; and now, arrived
Beside the Chieftain's vessel, one enquires

Too prone to wrath, have wrong'd thee, let these tears If Madoc be aboard? the answer given,

Efface all faults, I leave thee, O my brother,

With all a brother's feelings!

So he said,

And grasp'd, with trembling tenderness, his hand, Then calm'd himself, and moved toward the boat. Emma, though tears would have their way and sighs Would swell, suppressing still all words of woe,

1 "The three Restorations in the Circle of Happiness; Restoration of original genius and character; Restoration of all that was beloved; and the Restoration of Remembrance from the origin of all things: without these perfect happiness cannot exist."- Triads of Bardism, 32.

Swift he ascended up the lofty side.
With joyful wonder did the Ocean Lord
Again behold Llewelyn; but he gazed
Doubtfully on his comrade's countenance,..
A meagre man, severe of brow, his eye
Stern. Thou dost view me, Madoc, he exclaim'd,
As 'twere a stranger's face. I marvel not!

I have thought it unnecessary to give a connected account of the Bardic system in these Notes, as it has been so well done by my friend, Mr. Turner, in his Vindication of the Ancient British Poems.

The long afflictions of my prison house
Have changed me.

Rodri! cried the Prince, and fell
Upon his neck; . . last night, subdued at length
By my solicitations, did the King
Send to deliver thee, that thou shouldst share
My happy enterprize; . . and thou art come,
Even to my wish!

Nay, Madoc, nay, not so!
He answered, with a stern and bitter smile;
This gallant boy hath given me liberty,
And I will pay him with his father's throne,
Ay, by my father's soul!.. Last night we fled
The house of bondage, and in the sea-caves
By day we lurk'd securely. Here I come,
Only to see thee once before I die,
And say farewell,.. dear brother!

Would to God

This purpose could be changed! the Sea Lord cried;
But thou art roused by wrongs, and who shall tame
That lion heart?.. This only, if your lot

Fall favourable, will I beseech of ye,
That to his Queen the fair Plantagenet,
All honourable humanity ye show,
For her own virtue, and in gratitude,

As she hath pleaded for you, and hath urged
Her husband on your part, till it hath turn'd
His wrath upon herself. Oh! deal ye by her
As by your dearest sister in distress,

For even so dear is she to Madoc's heart:
And now I know she from Aberfraw's tower
Watcheth these specks upon the moonlight sea.
And weeps for my departure, and for me

Sends up her prayers to Heaven, nor thinks that now
I must make mine to man in her behalf!

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Our strife shall not be long. Mona will rise
With joy, to welcome me her rightful Lord;
And woe be to the King who rules by fear,
When danger comes against him!

Fear not thou
For Britain! quoth Llewelyn; for not yet
The country of our fathers shall resign
Her name among the nations. Though her Sun
Slope from his eminence, the voice of man
May yet arrest him on his downward way.
My dreams by day, my visions in the night,
Are of her welfare. I shall mount the throne,..
Yes, Madoc ! and the Bard of years to come,
Who harps of Arthur's and of Owen's deeds,
Shall with the Worthies of his country rank
Llewelyn's name. Dear Uncle, fare thee well!..
And I almost could wish I had been born
Of humbler lot, that I might follow thee,
Companion of this noble enterprize.

Think of Llewelyn often, who will oft
Remember thee in love!

For the last time
He press'd his Uncle's hand, and Rodri gave
The last farewell; then went the twain their way.

So over ocean through the moonlight waves, Prince Madoc sail'd with all his company. No nobler crew fill'd that heroic bark, Which bore the first adventurers of the deep To seek the Golden Fleece on barbarous shores: Nor richlier fraught did that illustrious fleet Home to the Happy Island hold its way, When Amadis with his prime chivalry, He of all chivalry himself the flower,

Came from the rescue, proud of Roman spoils, And Oriana, freed from Roman thrall.

MADOC IN AZTLAN.

PART II.

I.

THE RETURN TO AZTLAN.

Now go your way, ye gallant company,
God and good Angels guard ye as ye go!
Blow fairly, Winds of Heaven! Ye Ocean Waves,
Swell not in anger to that fated fleet!
For not of conquest greedy nor of gold,
Seek they the distant worid... Blow fairly, Winds!
Waft, Waves of Ocean, well your blessed load!

Fair blew the Winds, and safely did the Waves
Bear that beloved charge. It were a tale
Would rouse adventurous courage in a boy,
Making him long to be a mariner

That he might rove the main, if I should tell
How pleasantly for many a summer-day,
Over the sunny sea with wind at will,
Prince Madoc sail'd; and of those happy Isles,
Which had he seen ere that appointed storm
Drove southward his slope course, there he had pitch'd
His tent, and blest his lot that it had fallen
In land so fair; and human blood had reek'd
Daily on Aztlan's devilish altars still,
But other doom was his, more arduous toil
Yet to achieve, worse danger to endure,
Worse evil to be quell'd, and higher good
Which passeth not away educed from ill;
Whereof all unforeseeing, yet for all
Prepared at heart, he over ocean sails,
Wafted by gentle winds o'er gentle waves,
As if the elements combined to serve
The perfect Prince, by God and man beloved.
And now how joyfully he views the land,
Skirting like morning clouds the dusky sea;
With what a searching eye recals to mind

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