Her treasures, gather'd from the first of days.
Sometimes a savage tribe would welcome us,
By wonder from their lethargy of life
Awaken'd; then again we voyaged on
Through tracts all desolate, for days and days,
League after league, one green and fertile mead,
That fed a thousand herds.
Rose on our view, of mount on mountain pil'd, Which when I see again in memory,
The giant Cader Idris by their bulk
Is dwarf d. and Snowdon, with its eagle haunts, Shrinks, and seems dwindled like a Saxon hill,
Here, with Cadwallon and a chosen band,
I left the ships. Lincoya guided us
A toilsome way among the heights; at dusk
We reach'd the village skirts; he bade us halt,
And rais'd his voice; the elders of the land
Came forth, and led us to an ample hut,
Which in the centre of their dwellings stood, . .
The Stranger's House. They eyed us wondering,
Yet not for wonder ceas'd they to observe
Their hospitable rites; from hut to hut
They spread the tale that strangers were arriv'd,
Fatigued, and hungry, and athirst; anon,
Each from his means supplying us, came food
And beverage, such as cheers the weary man.
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
Bolov'd and favour'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 lumbled as they were,
Her faithful people still, in all they could,
Obey'd Erillyab. She, too, in her mind
Those recollections cherish'd, and such thoughts
As, though no hope temper'd their bitterness,
Gave to her eye a spirit, and a strength
And pride to features, which perchance had borne,
Had they been fashion'd to a happier fate,
Meaning more gentle and more womanly,
Yet not more worthy of esteem and love.
She sate upon the threshold of her hut;
For in the palace where her sires had reign'd
The conqueror dwelt. Her son was at her side,
A boy now near to manhood; by the door,
Bare of its bark, the head and branches shorn,
Stood a young tree, with many a weapon hung,
Her husband's war-pole, and his monument.
There had his quiver moulder'd, his stone-axe
Had there grown green with moss, his bow-string there
Sung as it cut the wind.
With a proud sorrow in her mien; fresh fruits
Were spread before us, and her gestures said
That when he liv'd, whose hand was wont to wield
Those weapons, that in better days,.. that ere
She let the tresses of her widowhood
Grow wild, she could have given to guests like us,
A worthier welcome. Soon a man approach'd,
Hooded with sable, his half-naked limbs
Smear'd black; the people, at his sight, drew round,
The women wail'd and wept, the children turn'd
And hid their faces on their mothers knees.
He to the Queen addrest his speech, then look'd
Around the children, and laid hands on two,
Of different sexes, but of age alike,
Some six years each: they at his touch shriek'd out;
But then Lincoya rose, and to my feet
Led them, and told me that the conquerors claim'd
These innocents, for tribute; that the Priest
Would lay them on the altar of his god,
Tear out their little hearts in sacrifice,
Yea, with more cursed wickedness, himself
Feast on their flesh!.. I shudder'd, and my
Instinctively unsheath'd the holy sword.
He with most passionate and eloquent signs,
Eye-speaking earnestness, and quivering lips,
Besought me to preserve himself, and those
Who now fell suppliant round me, . . youths and maids,
Grey-headed men, and mothers with their babes.
I caught the little victims up, I kiss'd
Their innocent cheeks, I rais'd my eyes to heaven,
I call'd upon Almighty God, to hear
And bless the vow I made in our own tongue
Was that sworn promise of protection pledg'd..
Impetuous feeling made no pause for thought.
Heaven heard the vow; the suppliant multitude
Saw what was stirring in my breast; the Priest,
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