And lives he still? Goervyl cried, in tears.
Madoc replied, I scarce can hope to find
A father's welcome at my distant home.
I left him full of days, and ripe for death;
And the last prayer Cynetha breath'd upon me
Went like a death-bed blessing to my heart!
When evening came, toward the echoing shore
I and Cadwallon walk'd together forth :
Bright with dilated glory shone the west;
But brighter lay the ocean-flood below,
The burnish'd silver sea, that heav'd and flash'd
Its restless rays, intolerably bright.
Prince, quoth Cadwallon, thou hast rode the wave
In triumph, when the invaders felt thine arm.
Oh what a nobler conquest might be won
There,.. upon that wide field!.. What meanest thou?
I cried. ... That yonder waters are not spread
A boundless waste, a bourn impassable ! ..
That Man should rule the Elements, .. that there
Might manly courage, manly wisdom find
Some happy isle, some undiscover'd shore,
Some resting place for peace. .. Oh that my soul
Could seize the wings of Morning! soon would I
Behold that other world, where yonder sun
Speeds now, to dawn in glory!
Conviction came upon my startled mind,
Like lightning on the midnight traveller.
I caught his hand; . . Kinsman, and guide, and friend, Yea, let us go together! Down we sate,
Full of the vision on the echoing shore.
One only object filled ear, eye, and thought:
We gaz'd upon the aweful world of waves,
And talk'd and dreamt of years that were to come.
Not with a heart unmov'd I left thy shores,
Dear native isle! oh...not without a pang,
As thy fair uplands lessen'd 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,
Their tighten'd cordage clattering to the mast,
Steady they rode the main; the gale aloft
Sung in the shrouds, the sparkling waters hiss'd
Before, and froth'd, and whiten'd far behind.
Day after day, with one auspicious wind,
Right to the setting sun we held our way.
My hope had kindled every heart; they blest
The unvarying breeze, whose unabating strength
Still sped us onward; and they said that heaven
Favour'd the bold emprize.
Mounting the mast-tower-top, with eager ken
They gaz'd, and fancied, in the distant sky,
Their promis'd shore, beneath the evening cloud,
Or seen, low lying, through the haze of morn.
I, too, with eyes as anxious, watch'd the waves,
Though patient, and prepar'd for long delay;
For not on wild adventure had I rush'd,
With giddy speed, in some delirious fit
Of fancy; but, in many a tranquil hour,
Weigh'd well the attempt, till hope matur'd to faith.
Day after day, day after day, the same,..
A weary waste of waters! still the breeze
Hung heavy in our sails, and we held on
One even course; a second week was gone,
And now another past, and still the same,
Waves beyond waves, the interminable sea!
What marvel, if at length the mariners
Grew sick with long expectance? I beheld
Dark looks of growing restlessness, I heard
Distrust's low murmuring; nor avail'd it long
To see and not perceive. Shame had awhile
Represt their fear, till, like a smother'd fire,
It burst, and spread with quick contagion round,
And strengthen'd as it spread. They spake in tones
Which might not be mistaken,.. they had done
What men dar'd do, ventur'd where never keel
Had cut the deep before; still all was sea,
The same unbounded ocean! .. to proceed
Were tempting heaven.
I heard, with feign'd surprise,
And, pointing then to where our fellow bark,
Gay with her fluttering streamers and full sails
Rode, as in triumph, o'er the element,
I ask'd them what their comrades there would deem
Of those so bold ashore, who, when a day,
Perchance an hour, might crown their glorious toil,
Shrunk then, and, coward-like, return'd to meet
Mockery and shame? true, they had ventur'd on
In seas unknown, beyond where ever man
Had plough'd the billows yet: more reason so
Why they should now, like him whose happy speed
Well nigh hath run the race, with higher hope
Press onward to the prize. But late they said,
Marking the favour of the steady gale,
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