Charms the wood-traveller. In their high-roof'd 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
Though 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 sail'd away. Again they launch

Their vessels to the deep... Who mounts the bark ? The Son of Owen, the beloved Prince,

Who never for injustice rear'd his arm.

Respect his enterprize, ye Ocean Waves!

Ye Winds of Heaven, waft Madoc on his way!
The Waves of Ocean, and the Winds o Heaven
Became his ministers, and Madoc found
The world he sought.

Who seeks the better land?

Who mounts the vessel for the world of peace?
He who hath felt the throb of pride, to hear
Our ol 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 country man, 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 remember'd 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 father's fame; ..
The Bard will seck the land of liberty,

The world of peace. .. O Prince, receive the Bard!

He ceas'd the song. His cheek, now fever flush'd,
Was turn'd to Madoc, and his asking eye
Linger'd on him in hope; nor linger'd 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 the Land, Where Plenty dwelt with Liberty and Peace.

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 constrain'd 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 deaden'd heart
Welcome the Prince he lov'd, though not with joy s
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 it's breaches unrepair'd

Were left, and round the piles, which deeper-drivew
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