English

Now for Mathraval went Prince Madoc forth;
O'er Menai's ebbing tide, up mountain-paths,
Beside gray mountain-stream, and lonely lake,
And through old Snowdon's forest-solitude,
He held right on his solitary way.
Nor paused he in that rocky vale, where oft
Up the familiar path, with gladder pace,
His steed had hastened to the well-known door, —
That valley, o'er whose crags, and sprinkled trees
And winding stream, so oft his eye had loved
To linger, gazing, as the eve grew dim,
From Dolwyddelan's Tower; — alas! from thence,

But while Aberfraw echoed to the sounds
Of merriment and music, Madoc's heart
Mourn'd for his brethren. Therefore, when no ear
Was nigh, he sought the King, and said to him,
To-morrow, for Mathraval I set forth;
Longer I must not linger here, to pass
The easy hours in feast and revelry,
Forgetful of my people far away.
I go to tell the tidings of success,
And seek new comrades. What if it should chance
That, for this enterprise, our brethren,
Foregoing all their hopes and fortunes here,

Again, and now with better hope, I sought
The city of the King: there went with me
Iolo, old Iolo, he who knows
The virtue of all herbs of mount, or vale,
Or greenwood shade, or quiet brooklet's bed;
Whatever lore of science, or of song,
Sages and Bards of old have handed down.
Aztlan that day pour'd forth her swarming sons,
To wait my coming. Will he ask his God
To stay the hand of anger? was the cry,
The general cry, — and will he save the King?
Coanocotzin too had nursed that thought,

Now, then, to meet the war! Erillyab's call
Roused all her people to revenge their wrongs;
And at Lincoya's voice, the mountain tribes
Arose and broke their bondage. I, meantime,
Took counsel with Cadwallon and his sire,
And told them of the numbers we must meet,
And what advantage from the mountain-straits
I thought, as in the Saxon wars, to win.
Thou saw'st their weapons then, Cadwallon said;
Are they like these rude works of ignorance,
Bone-headed shafts, and spears of wood, and shields
Strong only for such strife?

At morning their high-priest, Ayayaca,
Came with our guide: the venerable man
With reverential awe accosted us,
For we, he ween'd, were children of a race
Mightier than they, and wiser, and by Heaven
Beloved and favor'd more: he came to give
Fit welcome, and he led us to the Queen.
The fate of war had reft her of her realm;
Yet with affection, and habitual awe,
And old remembrances, which gave their love
A deeper and religious character,
Fallen as she was, and humbled as they were,

Madoc had paused awhile; but every eye
Still watch'd his lips, and every voice was hush'd.
Soon as I leap'd ashore, pursues the Lord
Of Ocean, prostrate on my face I fell,
Kiss'd the dear earth, and pray'd with thankful tears.
Hard by a brook was flowing; — never yet,
Even from the gold-tipp'd horn of victory,
With harp and song, amid my father's hall,
Pledged I so sweet a draught, as lying there,
Beside that streamlet's brink! — to feel the ground,
To quaff the cool, clear water, to inhale

Not with a heart unmoved I left thy shores,
Dear native isle! oh — not without a pang,
As thy fair uplands lessened on the view,
Cast back the long, involuntary look!
The morning cheer'd our outset; gentle airs
Curl'd the blue deep, and bright the summer sun
Play'd o'er the summer ocean, when our barks
Began their way.
And they were gallant barks,
As ever through the raging billows rode;
And many a tempest's buffeting they bore.
Their sails all swelling with the eastern breeze,

Then on the morrow, at the festal board,
The Lord of Ocean thus began his tale: —
My heart beat high, when, with the favoring wind,
We sail'd away; Aberfraw! when thy towers,
And the huge headland of my mother isle,
Shrunk and were gone.
But, Madoc, I would learn,
Quoth David, how this enterprise arose,
And the wild hope of worlds beyond the sea;
For at thine outset being in the war,
I did not hear from vague and common fame
The moving cause. Sprung it from bardic lore,
The hidden wisdom of the years of old,

The guests were seated at the festal board;
Green rushes strowed the floor; high in the hall
Was David; Emma, in her bridal robe,
In youth, in beauty, by her husband's side
Sat at the marriage feast. The monarch raised
His eyes; he saw the mariner approach;
Madoc! he cried; strong nature's impulses
Prevail'd, and with a holy joy he met
His brother's warm embrace.
With that, what peals
Of exultation shook Aberfraw's tower!
How then reichoing rang the home of Kings,
When from subduid Ocean, from the World

Fair blows the wind, — the vessel drives along
Her streamers fluttering at their length, her sails
All full, — she drives along, and round her prow
Scatters the ocean spray. What feelings then
Fill'd every bosom, when the mariners,
After the peril of that weary way,
Beheld their own dear country! Here stands one
Stretching his sight toward the distant shore;
And as to well-known forms his busy joy
Shapes the dim outline, eagerly he points
The fancied headland, and the cape and bay,