Each on his bed of rushes, stretch’d around
The central fire.
The Sun was newly risen
When Madoc joined his host, no longer now
Clad, as the conquering chief of Maelor,
In princely arms, but in his nobler robe,
The sky-blue mantle of the bard, array’d.
So for the place of meeting they set forth;
And now they reach’d Melangell’s lonely church.
Amid a grove of evergreens it stood,
A garden and a grove, where every grave
Was deck’d with flowers, or with unfading plants
O’ergrown, sad rue and funeral rosemary.
Here Madoc paused. The morn is young, quoth he;
A little while to old remembrance given
Will not belate us... Many a year hath fled,
Cyveilioc, since you led me here, and told
The legend of the Saint. Come!.. be not loath!
We will not loiter long... So soon to mount
The bark, which will for ever bear me hence,
I would not willingly pass by one spot
Which thus recalls the thought of other times,
Without a pilgrim’s visit.
Thus he spake,
And drew Cyveilioc through the church-yard porch,
To the rude image of St. Monacel.
Dost thou remember, Owen,” said the Prince,
When first I was thy guest in early youth,
That once, as we had wander’d here at eve,
You told how here a poor and hunted hare
Ran to the Virgin’s feet, and look’d to her
For life?.. I thought, when listening to the tale,
She had a merciful heart, and that her face
Must with a saintly gentleness have beam’d,
When beasts could read its virtue. Here we sate
Upon the jutting root of this old yeugh...
Dear friend! so pleasant didst thou make those days,
That in my heart, long as my heart shall beat,
Minutest recollections still will live,
Still be the source of joy.
As Madoc spake,
His glancing eye fell on a monument,
Around whose base the rosemary droop’d down,
As yet not rooted well. Sculptur’d above,
A warrior lay; the shield was on his arm;
Madoc approached, and saw the blazonry,..
A sudden chill ran through him, as he read,
Here Yorwerth lies... it was his brother’s grave.
Cyveilioc took him by the hand: For this,
Madoc, was I so loath to enter here!
He sought the sanctuary; but close upon him
The murderers followed, and by yonder copse
The stroke of death was given. All I could
Was done;.. I saw him here consign’d to rest,
Daily due masses for his soul are sung,
And duly hath his grave been deck’d with flowers.
So saying, from the place of death he led
The silent prince. But lately, he pursued,
Llewelyn was my guest, thy favourite boy.
For thy sake and his own, it was my hope
That he would make his home at Mathraval:
He had not needed then a father’s love.
But he, I know not on what enterprise,
Was brooding ever; and those secret thoughts
Drew him away. God prosper the brave boy!
It were a happy day for this poor land
If e’er Llewelyn mount his rightful throne.
XI.
The place of meeting was a high hill-top,
Nor bower’d with trees nor broken by the plough,
Remote from human dwellings and the stir
Of human life, and open to the breath
And to the eye of Heaven. In days of old,
There had the circling stones been planted; there,
From earliest ages, the primeval lore,
Thro’ Bard to Bard, with reverence handed down.
They whom to wonder, or the love of song,
Or reverence of their fathers’ ancient rites,
Drew thither, stood without the ring of stones.
Cyveilioc enter’d to the initiate Bards,
Himself, albeit his hands were stain’d with war,
Initiate; for the Order, in the lapse
Of years, and in their nation’s long decline,
From the first rigour of their purity
Somewhat had fallen. The Masters of the Song
In azure robes were rob’d,.. that one bright hue
To emblem unity, and peace, and truth,
Like Heaven, which’ o’er a world of wickedness
Spreads its eternal canopy serene.
The bards of Britain there, a noble band,
Within the Stones of Federation stood,
On the green turf, and under the blue sky,
Their heads in reverence bare, and bare of foot.
A deathless brotherhood! Cyveilioc there,
Lord of the Hirlas; Llywarc there was seen;
And old Cynddelow, to whose lofty song,
So many a time amidst his father’s hall
Resigning all his soul, had Madoc given
The flow of feeling loose. But Madoc’s heart
Was full; old feelings and remembrances
And thoughts from which was no escape, arose:
He was not there to whose sweet lay, so oft,
With all a brother’s fond delight, he lov’d
To listen,.. Hoel was not there!.. the hand
That once so well, amid the triple chords,
Mov’d in the rapid maze of harmony,
It had no motion now; the lips were dumb
Which knew all tones of passion; and that heart,
That warm, ebullient heart, was cold and still,
Upon its bed of clay. He look’d around,
And there was no familiar countenance,
None but Cynddelow’s face, which he had learnt
In childhood, and old age had set its mark,
Making unsightly alteration there.
Another generation had sprung up,
And made him feel how fast the days of man
Flow by, how soon their number is told out.
He knew not then that Llywarc’s lay should give
His future fame; his spirit, on the past
Brooding, beheld, with no forefeeling joy
The rising sons of song, who there essayed
Their eaglet flight. But there among the youth,
In the green vesture of their earliest rank,
Or with the aspirants clad in motley garb,
Young Benvras stood; and, one whose favour’d race
Heaven with the hereditary power had blest,
The old Gowalchmai’s not degenerate child;
And there another Einion; gifted youths,
And heirs of immortality on earth,
Whose after-strains, through many a distant age
Cambria shall boast, and love the songs that tell
The fame of Owen’s house.
There, in the eye
Of light, and in the face of day, the rites
Began. Upon the Stone of Covenant
The sheathed sword was laid; the Master then
Rais’d up his voice, and cried, Let them who seek
The high degree and sacred privilege
Of Bardic science, and of Cimbric lore,
Here to the Bards of Britain make their claim!
Thus having said, the Master bade the youths
Approach the place of peace, and merit there
The Bard’s most honourable name. At that,
Heirs and transmitters of the ancient light,
The youths advanced; they heard the Cimbric lore,
From earliest days preserv’d; they struck their harps,
And
each in due succession rais’d the song.
Last of the aspirants, as of greener years,
Young Caradoc advanced; his lip as yet
Scarce darken’d with its down, his flaxen locks
Wreathed in contracting ringlets waving low;
His large blue eyes were bright, and kindled now
With that same passion that inflam’d his cheek;
Yet in his cheek there was the sickliness
Which thought and feeling leave, wearing away
The hue of youth. Inclining on his harp,
He, while his comrades in probation song
Approv’d their claim, stood hearkening, as it seem’d,
And yet like unintelligible sounds
He heard the symphony and voice attuned;
Even in such feelings as, all undefin’d,
Come with the flow of waters to the soul,
Or with the motions of the moonlight sky.
But, when his bidding came, he, at the call
Arising from that dreamy mood, advanced,
Threw back his mantle, and began the lay.
Where are the sons of Gavran? where his tribe
The faithful? Following their beloved Chief,
They the Green Islands of the Ocean sought;
Nor human tongue hath told, nor human ear,
Since from the silver shores they went their way,
Hath heard, their fortunes. In his crystal Ark,
Whither sailed Merlin with his band of Bards,
Old Merlin, master of the mystic lore?
Belike his crystal Ark, instinct with life,
Obedient to the mighty Master, reach’d
The Land of the Departed; there, belike,
They in the clime of immortality,
Themselves immortal, drink the gales of bliss,
Which o’er Flathinnis breathe eternal spring,
Blending whatever odours make the gale
Of evening sweet, whatever melody
Charms the wood-traveller. In their high-roofed halls,
There, with the Chiefs of other days, feel they
The mingled joy pervade them?.. Or beneath
The mid-sea waters, did that crystal Ark
Down to the secret depths of Ocean plunge
Its fated crew? Dwell they in coral bowers
With Mermaid loves, teaching their paramours
The songs that stir the sea, or make the winds
Hush, and the waves be still? In fields of joy
Have they their home, where central fires maintain
Perpetual summer, where one emerald light
Through the green element for ever flows?
Twice have the sons of Britain left her shores,
As the fledg’d eaglets quit their native nest;
Twice over ocean have her fearless sons
For ever sailed away. Again they launch
Their vessels to the deep... Who mounts the bark?
The son of Owen, the beloved Prince,
Who never for injustice reared his arm.
Respect his enterprize, ye Ocean Waves!
Ye Winds of Heaven, waft Madoc on his way!
The Waves of Ocean, and the Winds of Heaven.
Became his ministers, and Madoc found
The world he sought.
Who seeks the better land?
Who mounts the vessel for a world of peace?
He who hath felt the throb of pride, to hear
Our old illustrious annals; who was taught
To lisp the fame of Arthur, to revere
Great Caratach’s unconquer’d soul, and call
That gallant chief his countryman who led
The wrath of Britain, from her chalky shores
To drive the Roman robber. He who loves
His country, and who feels his country’s shame,
Whose bones amid a land of servitude
Could never rest in peace; who, if he saw
His children slaves, would feel a pang in heaven,..
He mounts the bark, to seek for liberty.
Who seeks the better land? The wretched one,
Whose joys are blasted all, whose heart is sick,
Who hath no hope, to whom all change is gain,
To whom remembered pleasures strike a pang
Which only guilt should know,.. he mounts the bark!
The Bard will mount the bark of banishment;
The harp of Cambria shall in other lands,
Remind the Cambrian of his fathers’ fame;..
The Bard will seek the land of liberty,
The world of peace... O Prince, receive the Bard!
He ceased the song. His cheek, now fever flush’d,
Was turned to Madoc, and his asking eye
Lingered on him in hope; nor lingered long
The look expectant; forward sprung the Prince,
And stretch’d to Caradoc the right-hand pledge,
And for the comrade of his enterprize,
With joyful welcome, hail’d the joyful Bard.
Nor needed now the Searcher of the Sea
Announce his enterprize, by Caradoc
In song announced so well; from man to man
The busy murmur spread; while from the Stone
Of Covenant the sword was taken up,
And from the Circle of the Ceremony
The Bards went forth, their meeting now fulfill’d.
The multitude, unheeding all beside,
Of Madoc and his noble enterprize
Held stirring converse on their homeward way,
And spread abroad the tidings of a Land,
Where Plenty dwelt with Liberty and Peace.
XII.
So in the court of Powys pleasantly,
With hawk and hound afield, and harp in hall,
The days went by; till Madoc, for his heart
Was with Cadwallon, and in early spring
Must he set forth to join him over sea,
Took his constrained farewell. To Dinevawr
He bent his way, whence many a time with Rhys
Had he gone forth to smite the Saxon foe.
The Son of Owen greets his father’s friend
With reverential joy: nor did the Lord
Of Dinevawr with cold or deadened heart
Welcome the Prince he lov’d; though not with joy
Unmingled now, nor the proud consciousness
Which in the man of tried and approv’d worth
Could bid an equal hail. Henry had seen
The Lord of Dinevawr between his knees
Vow homage; yea, the Lord of Dinevawr
Had knelt in homage to that Saxon king,
Who set a price upon his father’s head,
That Saxon, on whose soul his mother’s blood
Cried out for vengeance. Madoc saw the shame,
Which Rhys would fain have hidden, and, in grief
For the degenerate land, rejoiced at heart
That now another country was his home.
Musing on thoughts like these, did Madoc roam
Alone along the Towy’s winding shore.
The beavers in its bank had hollow’d out
Their social place of dwelling, and had damm’d
The summer-current, with their perfect art
Of instinct, erring not in means nor end.
But as the floods of spring had broken down
Their barrier, so its breaches unrepair’d
Were left; and round the piles, which, deeper driven
Still held their place, the eddying waters whirl’d.
Now in those habitations desolate
One sole survivor dwelt: him Madoc saw,
Labouring alone, beside his hermit house;
And in that mood of melancholy thought,..
For in his boyhood he had lov’d to watch
Their social work, and for he knew that man
In bloody sport had well-nigh rooted out
The poor
community,.. the ominous sight
Became a grief and burthen. Eve came on.
The dry leaves rustled to the wind, and fell
And floated on the stream; there was no voice
Save of the mournful rooks, who overhead
Wing’d their long line; for fragrance of sweet flowers,
Only the odour of the autumnal leaves;..
All sights and sounds of sadness... And the place
To that despondent mood was ministrant;..
Among the hills of Gwyneth, and its wilds
And mountain glens, perforce he cherish’d still
The hope of mountain liberty; they braced
And knit the heart and arm of hardihood;..
But here, in these green meads, by these low slopes
And hanging groves, attemper’d to the scene,
His spirit yielded. As he loiter’d on,
There came toward him one in peasant garb,
And call’d his name;.. he started at the sound,
For he had heeded not the man’s approach;
And now that sudden and familiar voice
Came on him like a vision. So he stood
Gazing, and knew him not in the dim light,
Till he again cried, Madoc!.. then he woke,
And knew the voice of Ririd, and sprang on,
And fell upon his neck, and wept for joy
And sorrow.
O my brother! Ririd cried
Long, very long it is since I have heard
The voice of kindness!.. Let me go with thee!
I am a wanderer in my father’s land;..
Hoel he kill’d, and Yorwerth hath he slain;
Llewelyn hath not where to hide his head
In his own kingdom; Rodri is in chains...
Let me go with thee, Madoc, to some land
Where I may look upon the sun, nor dread
The light that may betray me; where at night
I may not, like a hunted beast, rouse up,
If the leaves rustle over me.
The Lord
Of Ocean struggled with his swelling heart.
Let me go with thee?.. but thou didst not doubt
Thy brother?.. Let thee go?.. with what a joy,
Ririd, would I collect the remnant left,
The wretched remnant now of Owen’s house,
And mount the bark of willing banishment,
And leave the tyrant to his Saxon friends,
And to his Saxon yoke!.. I urged him thus,
Curbed down my angry spirit, and besought
Complete Poetical Works of Robert Southey Page 64