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,
Leaned o’er the vessel side; and there he stood
And gaz’d, almost unconscious that he gaz’d,
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 escap’d
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 Flemings 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, 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 fled with all his nations. Madoc gave
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,
He never more should share the feast, nor hear
The echoing harp again! His heart was full;
And, yielding to its yearnings, in that mood
Of awful 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 yeugh,
That strikes into the grave its baleful roots,
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, softened David’s heart;
He saw his brother’s eyes, suffus’d with tears,
Shine in the moon-beam as he spake; the King
Remembered his departure, and he felt
Feelings which long from his disnatur’d breast
Ambition had expell’d: he could almost
Have followed their strong impulse. From the shore,
Madoc, with quick and agitated step
Had sought his home; the monarch slow return’d,
Serious and slow, and laid him down that night
With painful recollections, and such thoughts
As might, if Heaven had will’d it, have matur’d
To penitence and peace.
The day is come;
The adventurers in St. 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 awful stillness hush’d,
As with yet more oppression seem’d to load
The oppressed heart. At times, and half supprest,
Womanly sobs were heard, and manly cheeks
Were wet with silent tears. Now forth they go,
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 unconcerned heart,
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 belov’d
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 daybreak 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 d
one so late!
Reproach me not! half sullenly the King,
Answering, exclaim’d; Madoc, reproach me not!
Thou know’st how hardly I attained 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,
Too prone to wrath, have wrong’d thee, let these tears
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 calmed himself, and mov’d toward the boat.
Emma, though tears would have their way and sighs
Would swell, suppressing still all words of woe,
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 thine 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 clasped her with a strong, convulsive sob,
Silently. Madoc, too, in silence went,
But pressed 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 attun’d,
Timing their toil! and now, with gentle gales,
Slow from the holy haven they depart!
XVIII.
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 inquires
If Madoc be aboard? the answer given,
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!
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 lurked 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 rous’d 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 turned
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 spots 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!
Quoth Rodri, Rest assured for her. I swear,
By our dead mother, so to deal with her
As thou thyself wouldst dictate, as herself
Shall wish.
The tears fell fast from Madoc’s eyes:
O Britain! O my country! he exclaimed,
For ever thus by civil strife convuls’d,
Thy children’s blood flowing to satisfy
Thy children’s rage, how wilt thou still support
The struggle with the Saxon?
Rodri cried,
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 graspt 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, w
ith his prime chivalry,
He of all chivalry himself the flower,
Came from the rescue, proud of Roman spoils,
And Oriana, freed from Roman thrall.
NOTES ON THE FIRST PART.
Silent and thoughtful, and apart from all,
Stood Madoc. — I. p. 4.
Long after these lines had been written, I was pleased at finding the same feeling expressed in a very singular specimen of metrical autobiography: —
A Nao, despregando as velas
Ja se aproveita do vento;
E de evidente alegria
Os Portuguezes ja cheios
Sobre o conves estam todos;
Na terra se vam revendo
Igrejas, Palacios, Quintas,
De que temrn conhecimento,
Daqui, dalli apontando
Vam ledamente co dedo.
Todos fallando demostram
Seus jubilos munifestos; Mas o Vieira occupado
Vai de hum notavel silencio.
Seu excessivo alvoroco
Tumultuante, que dentro
No peito sente, lhe causa
De sobresalto os effeitos.
Quanto mais elle chegrando
Vai ao suspirado termo,
Mais se lhe augmenta o gostoso
Susto no doce projecto.”
Vieira Lusitano.
Mona, the dark island. - I. p. 4.
Ynys Dowyll, the dark island.
Aberfraw. - I. p. 5.
The palace of Gwynedd, or North Wales. Rhodri Mawr, about the year 873, fixed the seat of government here, which had formerly been at Dyganwy, but latterly at Caer Seiont in Arvon, near the present town of Caernarvon. “It is strange,” says Warrington, “that he should desert a country where every mountain was a natural fortress, and, in times of such difficulty and danger, should make choice of a residence so exposed and defenceless.” But this very danger may have been his motive. The Danes, who could make no impression upon England against the great Alfred, had turned their arms upon Wales. Mona was the part most open to their ravages; and it may have been an act as well of policy as of courage in the king to fix his abode there. He fell there, at length, in. battle against the Saxons. A barn now stands upon the site of the palace, in which there are stones, that, by their better workmanship, appear to have belonged to the original building.
Richly would the king
Gift the red hand that rid him of that fear. — I. p. 6.
Complete Poetical Works of Robert Southey Page 68