The contumacious Prince of Mathraval,
Cyveilioc.
What! quoth Madoc, and his eye
Grew terrible,... who is he that sets his foot
In Gwyneth here, and with hellish hate
Insults the blameless Lord of Mathraval?...
We wage no war with women nor with Priests;
But if there be a knight amid your train,
Who dare come boldly forth, and to my face
Say that Cyveilioc hath deserv’d this curse,
Lo! here stand I, Prince Madoc, who will make
That slanderous wretch cry craven in the dust,
And eat his lying words!
Be temperate!
Quoth one of Baldwin’s Priests, who, Briton born,
Had known Prince Madoc in his father’s court;
It is our charge, throughout this Christian land
To call upon all Christian men to join
The armies of the Lord, and take the cross;
That so, in battle with the Infidels,
The palm of victory or of martyrdom,
Glorious alike, may be their recompense.
This holy badge, whether in godless scorn
Or for the natural blindness of his heart,
Cyveilioc hath refus’d; thereby incurring
The pain, which, not of our own impulse, we
Inflict upon his soul, but at the will
Of our most holy Father, from whose word
Lies no appeal on earth.
’Tis well for thee,
Intemperate Prince! said Baldwin, that our blood
Flows with a calmer action than thine own!
Thy brother David hath put on the cross,
To our most pious warfare piously
Pledging his kingly sword. Do thou the like,
And for this better object lay aside
Thine other enterprize, which, lest it rob
Judea of one single Christian arm,
We do condemn as sinful. Follow thou
The banner of the Church to Palestine;
So shalt thou expiate this rash offence,
Against the which we else should fulminate
Our ire, did we not see in charity,
And therefore rather pity than resent,
The rudeness of this barbarous land.
At that,
Scorn tempering wrath, yet anger sharpening scorn,
Madoc replied, Barbarians as we are,
Lord Prelate, we received the law of Christ
Many a long age before your pirate sires
Had left their forest dens; nor are we now
To learn that law from Norman or from Dane,
Saxon, Jute, Angle, or whatever name
Suit best your mongrel race! Ye think, perchance,
That, like your own poor, woman-hearted King,
We, too, in Gwyneth are to take the yoke
Of Rome upon our necks;.. but you may tell
Your Pope, that, when I sail upon the seas,
I shall not strike a topsail for the breath
Of all his maledictions!
Saying thus,
He turned away, lest further speech might call
Further reply, and kindle further wrath,
More easy to avoid than to allay.
Therefore he left the church; and soon his mind
To gentler mood was won by social talk,
And the sweet prattle of that blue-eyed boy,
Whom in his arms he fondled.
But, when now
Evening had settled, to the door there came
One of the brethren of the Monastery,
Who called Prince Madoc forth. Apart they went;
And in the low, suspicious voice of fear,
Though none was nigh, the Monk began. Be calm,
Prince Madoc, while I speak, and patiently
Hear to the end! Thou know’st that, in his life,
Becket did excommunicate thy sire
For his unlawful marriage; but the King,
Feeling no sin in conscience, heeded not
The inefficient censure. Now, when Baldwin
Beheld his monument to-day, impell’d,
As we do think, by anger against thee,
He swore that, even as Owen in his deeds
Disown’d the Church when living, even so
The Church disown’d him dead, and that his corpse
No longer should be suffered to pollute
The sanctuary,.. Be patient, I beseech,
And hear me out. Gerald at this, who felt
A natural horror, sought,.. as best he knew
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.
Say’st thou to-night?
Quoth Madoc.... Aye, 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 cried,
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 with-hold thy hand.
Oh, fear me not!
Good and true friend! said Madoc: I am calm,
And calm as thou beholldest 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
Receiv’d 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 replied,: 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 out. And, now arriv’d,
The bolts gi
ve back before them, and the gate
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 scar’d imagination to the sense
Of other peril yielded, when they heard
Prince Madoc’s dreadful voice. Stay! he exclaim’d,
For 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,
Or not a man shall live! The doors are watch’d,
And ye are at my mercy!
But, at that,
Baldwin from the altar seiz’d 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
Rais’d the stone cover, and displayed the dead,
In royal grave-clothes habited, his arms
Cross’d on the breast, with precious gums and spice
Fragrant, and incorruptibly preserv’d.
At Madoc’s bidding, round the corpse they wrap
The linen web, fold within fold involv’d;
They laid it in the coffer, and with cloth
At head and foot filled every interval,
And pressed it down compact; they clos’d 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
His and his country’s freedom. As for ye,
For your own safety, ye, I ween, will keep
My secret safe. So saying, he went his way.
XVI.
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 glow of joy was overpast,
How went the equipment on, the Prince enquir’d.
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 smil’d
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 canvas to the gale. The mariners
Flock to thy banner, and the call hath rous’d
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,
How sped the Queen?
Oh Madoc! she replied,
A hard and unrelenting heart hath he.
The gentle Emma told me she had failed,
And that was all she told; but in her eye
I could see sorrow struggling. She complains not,
And yet, I know, in bitterness laments
The hour which brought her as a victim here.
Then I will seek the Monarch, Madoc cried;
And forth he went. Cold welcome David gave,
Such as might chill a suppliant; but the Prince
Fearless began: I found at Dinevawr
Our brother Ririd, and he made his suit
That he might follow me, a banished man.
He waits thine answer at the court of Rhys.
Now I beseech thee, David, say to him,
His father’s hall is open!
Then the King
Replied, I told thee, Madoc, thy request
Displeased me heretofore; I warned thee, too,
To shun the rebel: yet my messenger
Tells me, the guests at Dinevawr, who sate
At board with Rhys, and drank of his own cup,
Were Madoc and Lord Ririd... Was this well,
This open disobedience to my will,
And my express command?
Madoc subdued
His rising wrath. If I should tell thee, Sire,
He answered, by what chance it so fell out,
I should of disobedience stand excus’d,
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 birth-right!.. 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,
Exclaimed the Monarch. Do not tempt my wrath.
Thou know’st me!
Aye! 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
Plucked 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 turned indignant from the wrathful King.
XVII.
Winter hath past away; the vernal storms
Have spent-their rage; the ships are stor’d, 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 defil’d with tears, and though his voice
Came chok’d by grief, yet to that earnest eye,
And supplicating voice so musical,
It had not sure been easy to refuse
The boon he begged. 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 looked for favor, lightly gave the yes.
Complete Poetical Works of Robert Southey Page 67