Through wide savannahs, up the silver stream,
Then with a breathless speed he flies to spread
The joy; and with Cadwallon now descends,
And drives adown the tide the light canoe,
And mounts the vessel-side, and once again
Falls at the Ocean Lord's beloved feet.
First of the general weal did Madoc ask;
Cadwallon answered, All as yet is well,
And, by this seasonable aid secur'd,
Will well remain. .. Thy father? quoth the Prince.
Even so, replied Cadwallon, as that eye
Of hesitation augurs, .. fallen asleep.
The good old man remember'd thee in death,
And blest thee ere he died.
And heights were throng'd; from hill to hill, from rock
To rock, the shouts of welcome rung around.
Forward they press, to view the man belov'd,
Britons and Hoamen with one common joy
Hailing their common friend. Happy, that day,
Was he who heard his name from Madoc's voice;
Happy who met the greeting of his eye ;
Yea, happy he who shar'd his general smile,
Amid the unacknowledged multitude,
Caermadoc,.. by that name Cadwallon's love
Call'd it, in memory of the absent Prince,..
Stood in a mountain vale, by rocks and heights,
A natural bulwark, girt. A rocky stream
Which from the fells came down, there spread itself
Into a quiet lake, to compass whieh
Had been a two hours pleasurable toil;
And he who from a well strung bow could send
His shaft across, had needs a sinewy arm,
And might from many an archer far and near,
Have borne away the bell. Here had the Chief
Chosen his abiding place, for strength preferr'd,
Where vainly might an host in equal arms
Attempt the difficult entrance; and for all
Which could delight the eye and heart of man;
Whate'er of beauty or of usefulness
Heart could desire, or eye behold, being here.
What he had found an idle wilderness
Now gave rich increase to the husbandman,
For Heaven had blest their labour. Flourishing.
He left the happy vale; and now he saw
More fields reclaim'd, more habitations rear'd,
More harvests rising round. The reptile race,
And every beast of rapine, had retir'd
From man's asserted empire; and the sound
Of axe and dashing oar, and fisher's net,
And song beguiling toil, and pastoral pipe,
Were heard, where late the solitary hills.
Gave only to the mountain cataract
Here, Urien, cried the Prince,
These craggy heights and overhanging groves
Will make thee think of Gwyneth. And this hut,
Rejoin'd Cadwallon, with its roof of reeds,
Goervyl, is our palace: it was rear'd
With lighter labour than Aberfraw's towers ;
Yet, Lady, safer are its wattled sides
Than Mona's kingly walls... Like Gwyneth, said he ?
Oh no! we neighbour nearer to the Sun,
And with a more benignant eye the Lord
Of Light beholds us here.
Cheerfully welcome to their new abode
These, who albeit aweary of their way,
And glad to reach at length the place of rest,
Felt their hearts overburthen'd, and their eyes
Ready to overflow. Yet not the less
The buzz of busy joy was heard around,
Where every dwelling had its guest, and all
Gave the long eve to hospitable mirth..
But when the Lord of Ocean from the stir
And tumult was retir'd, Cadwallon then
Thus render'd his account.
When we had quell'd
The strength of Aztlan, we should have thrown down
Her altars, cast her Idols to the fire,
And on the ruins of her fanes accurst
Planted the Cross triumphant. Vain it is
To sow the seed, where noxious weeds and briars.
Must choke it in the growth.
The purer influence of exampled good
Might to the saving knowledge of the truth
Lead this bedarken'd race; and when thy ship
Fell down the stream, to distant Britain bound,
All promis'd well. The Strangers' God had prov'd
Mightier in war, and Aztlan could not chuse
But see, nor, seeing, could she fail to love,
The freedom of his service. Few were now
The offerings at her altars, few the youths
And virgins to the temple-toils devote.
Therefore the Priests combin'd to save their craft ;
And soon the rumour ran of evil signs
And tokens; in the temple had been heard
Wailings and loud lament; the eternal fire
Gave dismally a dim and doubtful flame;
And from the censer, which at morn should steam
Sweet odours to the sun, a fetid cloud,
Black and portentous, rose. And now no Priest
Approach'd our dwelling. Even the friendly Prince
Yuhidthiton, was at Caermadoc now
Rarely a guest; and if that tried good will
Which once he bore us, did at times appear,
A sullen gloom, and silence like remorse,
Follow'd the imagin'd crime.
Reck'd not the brooding of the storm; for now
My father to the grave was hastening down.
Patiently did the pious man endure,
In faith anticipating blessedness,
Already more than man, in those sad hours
When man is meanest. I sate by his side,
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