His nostrils were like the ovens of brick-burners, / virtuous enough to enter Paradise, nor guilty enough to and his mouth resembled the vat of a dyer.
be condemned to the fire of Hell. From whence they When lois breath came forth, from its vehemence sce the glory of the blessed, and are near enough to conthe dust rose up as in a whirlwind, so as to leave a chasm gratulate them; but their ardent desire to partake the in the earth: and when he drew it in, chaff, sand, and same happiness becomes a great pain. At length, ar pebbles, from the distance of some yards, were attract the day of judgment, wlien all men, before they are ed to his nostrils. - Bahar Danush.
judged, shall be cited to render homage to their Creator,
those who are bere confined, shall prostrate themselves Note 2, page 143, col. 2.
before the face of the Lord, in adoration ; and by this Al-Araf, in his wisdom ? etc.
act of religion, which shall be accounted a merit, the Araf is a place between the Paradise and the llell of number of their good works will exceed their evil ones, the Maliommedans ; some deem it a vcil of separation, and they will enter into glory. some a strong wall. Odiers hold it to be a Purgatory, Saadi says, that Araf appears a Hell to the happy, and in which those believers will remain, wliose good and a Paradise to the damned. - D'Herbelot evil works bave been so equal, that they were neither
TO CHARLES WATKIN WILLIAMS WYNN,
This Poem is inscribed,
AS A TOKEN OF SIXTEEN YEARS OF UNINTERRUPTED FRIENDSHIP.
PREFACE.
people, and founded the Mexican empire, taking the name of Mexicans, in lionour of Mexidi, their tutelary
god. Their emigration is here connected with the adThe historical facts on which this Poem is founded ventures of Madoc, and their superstition is represented may be related in few words. On the death of Owen as the same which their descendants practised, when Gwyneth, king of North Wales, A.D. 1169, his children discovered by the Spaniards. The manners of the disputed the succession. Yorwerth, the elder, was set Poem, in both its parts, will be found historically true. aside without a struggle, as being incapacitated by a It assumes not the degraded title of Epic; and the ques. blemish in his face. Hocl, though illegitimate, and tion, therefore, is not whether the story is formed upon born of an Irish mother, obtained possession of the the rules of Aristotle, but whether it be adapted to the throne for a while, till he was defeated and slain by purposes of poetry.
1 805. David, the eldest son of the late king by a second wife. Three things must be avoided in Poetry; the frivolous, The conqueror,
who then succeeded without opposition, the obscure, and the superfluous. slew Yorwerth, imprisoned Rodri, and hunted others The three excellencies of Poetry; simplicity of lanof his brethren into exile. But Madoc, meantime, guage, simplicity of subject, and simplicity of invention. abandoned his barbarous country, and sailed away to The three indispensable purities of Poetry; pure the West in search of some better resting-place. The truth, pure language, and pure manners. land which lie discovered pleased him: he left there Three things should all Poetry be ; thoroughly erkpart of his people, and went back to Wales for a fresh | dite, thoroughly animated, and thoroughly natural. supply of adventurers, with whom he again set sail,
TRIDS, and was heard of no more. Strong evidence has been
COME, LISTEN TO A TALE OF TIMES OF OLD! adduced that he reached America, and that his posterity
COME, FOR YE KNOW ME. exist there to this day, on the southern branches of the
THE MAID OF ARC, AND I AM HE WHO FRAMED Missouri, retaining their complexion, their language OF THALABA THE WILD AND WONDEROUS SONG. and, in some degree, 'their arts.
About the same time, the Aztecas, an American tribe, COME, LISTEN TO MY LAY, AND YE SIALL HEAR in consequence of certain calamities, and of a particular
THE ADVENTUROUS SAIL, EXPLORED THE OCEAN PATHS, omen, forsook Aztlan, their own country, under the
AND QUELLED BARBARIAN POWER, AND OVERTUREW guidance of Yuhidihiton. They became a mighty
THE BLOODY ALTARS OF IDOLATRY, " That country has now been fully explored, and wherever Madoc
AND PLANTED IN ITS FANES TRIUMPBANTLY may bare settled, it is now certain that no Welsh Indians ara to be found upon any branches of the Missouri.-1815.
COME LISTEN TO MY LAY!
HOW MADOC FROM THE SHORES OF BRITAIN SPREAD
And turned to him and fell upon his neck;
For it was Urien who had fostered him,
Dad loved him like a child; and Madoc loved,
Even as a father loved he that old man.
My sister? quoth the prince.—Oh, she and I
Have wept together, Madoc, for thy loss,-
That long and cruel absence !-She and I,
Hour after hour and day by day, have looked
Toward the waters, and with aching eyes
And aching heart sate watching every sail.
I.
The Return to Tales.
Fair blows the wind, -the vessel drives along,
Her streamers flittering at their length, her sails
All full,-she drives along, and round her prow
Scallers the ocean spray. What feelings then
Filled 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 headlaud and the cape and bay,
Till his eyes ache o'erstraining. This man shakes
His comrade's hand, and bids bim welcome home,
And blesses God, and then he
weeps
aloud :
Here stands another, who in secret prayer
Calls on the Virgin and his patron Saint,
Renewing his old vows of gifts and alms
And pilgrimage, so he may find all well.
Silent and thoughtful and apart from all
Stood Madoc; ' now his noble enterprise
Proudly remembering, now in dreams of hope,
Anon of bodings full and doubt and fear.
Fair smiled the evening, and the favouring gale
Sung in the shrouds, and swift the steady bark
Rusled roaring through the waves.
The sun goes down.
Far off his light is on the naked crags
Of Penmanmawr, and Arven's ancient hills ;
And the last glory lingers yet awhile,
Crowning old Spowdon's venerable liead,
That rose amid his mountains. Now the ship
Drew nigh where Mona, the dark islavd, 2 stretched
Her sliore along the ocean's lighter line.
There through the mist and twilight, many a fire
lip-flaming streamed upon the level sea
Red lines of lengthening light, which, far away
Rising and falling, flashed all wart the waves.
Thereat did many a thought of ill disturb
Prince Madoc's mind ;-did some new conqueror seize
The throne of David? had the tyrant's guilt
Awakened vengeance to the deed of death?
Or blazed they for a brother's obsequies,
The sport and mirth of murder?—Like the lights
Which there upon Aberfraw's 3 royal walls
Are waving with the wind, the painful doubt
Fluctuates within him.-Onward drives the gale, -
On flies the bark ;-and she hath reached at length
Her haven, safe from her upеquailed way!
And now in louder and yet louder joy
Clamorous the happy mariners all-hail
Their native shore, and now they leap to land.
And David and our brethren? cried the prince,
As they moved on.-But then old Crien's lips
Were slow at answer; and he spake, and paused
In the first breath of utterance, as to chuse
Fit words for uttering some unhappy tale.
More blood, quoth Madoc, yet! Hath David's fear
Forced him to still more cruelty? Alas,-
Woe for the house of Owen!
Evil stars,
Replied the old man, ruled o'er thy brethren's birth.
From Dolwyddelan driven, his peaceful home,
Poor Yorwerth sought the church's sanctuary;
The murderer followed !—Madoc, need I say
Who sent the sword ?-Llewellyn, his brave boy,
Where wanders lie? in this his rightful realm,
Houseless and hunted! richly would the king
Gift the red hand that rid him of that fear! 4
Durid, an outlawed fugitive, as yet
Eludes his brother's fury; Rodri lives,
A prisoner he, -I know not in what fit
Of natural mercy from the slaughter spared.
Oh, if my dear old master saw the wreck
And scattering of his liouse !--that princely race!
The beautiful band of brethren that they were!
Madoc made no reply,-he closed his lids,
Groaping But Crien, for his soul was full,
Loving to linger on the wor, pursued :
I did not think to live to such an hour
Of joy as tliis! and often, wlien my eyes
Turned dizzy from the ocean, overcome
With heavy anguish, Madoc, I have prayed
That God would please to take me to his rest.
So as he ceased his speech, a sudden shout
Of popular joy awakened Madoc's ear:
And calling then to mind the festal fires,
He asked their import. The old man replied,
It is the giddy people merry-making
To welcome their new queen: unhecding they
The shame and the reproach to the long line
Of our old royalty!—Thy brother weds
The Saxon's sister.
What!--in loud reply Madoc exclaimed, hath he forgotten all! David! King Owen's son,-my father's son, Jle wed the Saxon.- Plantagenet! 5
Quoth Urien, le so doats, as she had dropt
Some philtre in his cup, to lethargize
The British blood that came from (wen's veins.
Three days his halls have echoed to the song
Of joyaunce.
Shame! foul shame! that they should hear Songs of such joyaunce! cried the indiquant prince;
There stood an old man on the beach to wait
The comers from the ocean; and he asked,
Is it thc Prince? And Madoc knew his voice,
Oh that my father's hall, where I have heard The song
of Corwen and of Kciriog's day, Should echo this pollution! Will the chiefs Brook this alliance, this unnatural tie?
Thou good old man! replied the prince, be sure
I shall remember what to himn is due,
What to myself; for I was in my youth
Wisely and well trained up; nor yet bath time
Effaced the lore my foster-father taught.
There is no face but wears a courtly smile,
Urien replied: Aberfraw's ancient towers
Belield no pride of festival like this,
No like solemnities, when Owen came
In conquest, and Gowalchmai struck the harp.
Only Goervyl, careless of the pomp,
Sits in ber solitude, lamenting thee.
Haste, haste! exclaimed Goervyl ;--for her heart
Smote her in udden terror the thought
Of Yorwerth, and of Owen's broken house;-
I dread his dark suspicions !
Not for me
Suffer that fear, my sister ! quoth the prince.
Safe is the straight and open way I tread!
Nor hath God made the human heart so bad
That thou or I should have a danger there.
So saying, they toward the palace gate
Went on, ere yet Aberfraw had received
The tidings of her wanderer's glad return.
Saw ye not then my banner? quoth the Lord
Of Ocean; on the topmast-head it stood
To tell the tale of triumph;-or did night
Hide the glad sigoal, and the joy hath yet
To reach her?
Now liad they almost attained
The palace portal. Urien stopt and said,
The child should know your coming; it is long
Since slie hath heard a voice that to her heart
Spake gladness :-
:-none but I must tell her this! So Urien sought Goervyl! whom lie found Alone and gazing on the moonlight sea.
Oh you are welcome, Orien! cried the maid.
There was a ship came sailing hitherward-
I could not see his banner, for the night
Closed in so fast around her; but my
heart Indulged a foolish hope !
The old man replied,
With difficult effort keeping his beart down,
God in leis goodness may reserve for us
That blessing yet! I have yet
life
To trust that I shall live to see the day,
Albeit the number of
my years well nigh Be full.
III-judging kindness! said the maid. Have I not nursed for two long wretched years 'That miserable hope, which every day Grew weaker, like a baby sick to death, Yet dearer for its weakness day by day! No, never shall we see bis daring bark! I knew and felt it in the evil hour When forth she fared! I felt it then! that kiss Was our death-parting! - And she paused to curb The agony: anon,-But thou hast been To learn their tidings, Urien? He replied, lo half-articulate voice,— They said, my child, That Madoc lived that soon he would be here.
The Marriage Feast.
Tue guests were seated at the festal board, 7
Green rushes strewed the floor; high in the hail
Was David ; Emma, in her bridal robe,
In youth, in beauty, by her husband's side
Sate at the marriage feast. The monarch raised
His eyes, he saw the mariner approach ;
Madoc! he cried; strong nature's impulses
Prevailed, and with a holy joy he met
His brother's warm embrace.
With that what pcals
Of exultation shook Aberfra w's tower!
How then rc-echoing rang the home of kings,
When from subdued Ocean, from the World
That he had first forescen, he first had fouad,
Came her triumphant child! The mariners,
A happy band, enter the clamorous hall;
Friend greets with friend, and all are friends; oue joy
Fills with one common feeling every heart,
And strangers give and take the welcoming
Of hand and voice and eye. That boisterous joy
At length allayed, the board was spread anew,
Anew the horn was brimmed, the central hearth
Built up ancw for later revelries.
Now to the ready feast! the seneschal
Duly below the pillars ranged the crew;
Toward the quest's most honourable seat
The king himself led his brave brother ;-then,
Eyeing the lovely Saxon as he spake,
llere, Madoc, sce thy sister! thou hast been
Long absent, and our house hath felt the while
Sad diminution; but my arm at last
Hath rooted out rebellion from the land;
And I have stablished now our ancient house,
Grafting a scion from the royal trce
of England on ile sceptre ; so shall peace
Bless our dear country.
Long and happy years Await my sovereigns!inus the chief replied, And long may our deir country rest in peace! Enougli of sorrow bath our royal house linown in the field of battles,-yet we reaped The harvest of renown.
She had received the shock of happiness :
Crien!she cried-thou art not mocking me!
Nothing the old man spake, but spread his arms
Sobbing aloud. Goervyl from their hold
Started, and subk upon ber brother's breast.
Recovering first, the aged Urien said,
Enough of this,-there will be time for this,
My children! better it beloves
To seek the king. And, Madoc, I besecch thee.
Bear with thy brother! gently bear with him,
My gentle prince! he is the lieadstrong slave
Of passions unsubdued ; 6 lie feels no tie
Of kindly love, or blood ;-provoke him not,
Madoc!--It is bis nature's malady.
Aye,-many a day,
David replied, together have we led
The onsel!— Dost thou not remember, brother,
How, in that hot and unexpected charge
On Keiriog's bank, we gave the chemy
Their welcoming ?
And Berwyn's after-strife! 8
Quoth Madoc, as the memory kindled him:
The fool that day, who in his masque attire
Sported before King Henry, 9 wished in vain
Fitlier habiliments of javelin proof!
And yet not more precipitate that fool
Dropt his mock weapons, than the archers cast
Desperate their bows and quivers full away,
When we leapt on, and in the mire and blood
Trampled their banner!
That, exclaimed the king,
That was a day indeed, which I may still
Proudly remember, proved as I have been
In contlicts of such perilous assay,
That Saxon combat seemed like woman's war.
When with the traitor Hoel I did wage
The deadly battle, then was I in truth
Put to the proof; po vantage-ground was there,
Nor famine, nor disease, nor storms to aid,
But equal, hard, close battle, man to man,
Briton to Briton! By my soul, pursued
The tyrant, heedless how from Madoc's eye
Flashed the quick wrath like lightning, -though I
knew The rebel's worth, so bis prowess then excited Unwelcome wonder! even at the last, When stiff with toil and faint with wounds, he raised Feebly kis broken sword,
Then Madoc's grief
Found utterance: Wherefore, David, dost thou rouse
The memory now of that unhappy day, .
That thou shouldst wish to hide from earth and
licaven?
Not in Aberfraw,- not to me this tale!
Tell it the Saxon !- he will join thy triumph,
He hates the race of Owen !--but I loved
My brother Hoch-loyed him?—that ye knew!
I was to him the dearest of his kin,
And he my own heart's brother.
David's cheek
Grew pale and dark; he bent his broad black brow
Full upon Madoc's crimson countenance;
Art thou returned to brave me? to my teeth
To praise the rebel bastard ? 10 insula
The royal Saxon, my aftianced friend?
I hate the Saxon!" Madoc cried; not yet
llave I forgotten, how from Keiriog's shame
Flying the coward wreaked his cruelty
On my poor brethren !-David, seest thou never
Those eyeless spectres by thy bridal bed ? 13
Forget that horror?—may the fire of God
Blast my right hand, or ever it be linked
With that accursed Plantagenet !
The while, Impatience struggled in the heaving breast Of David; every agitated limb Shook with ungovernable wrath; the page, Who chafed his feet, 13 in fear suspends his task; In fear the guests gaze on him silently; llis eyeballs flashed, strong anger choked his voice,
He started up.-Him Emma, by the hand
Gently retaining, held, with gentle words
Calming his rage. Goervyl too io tears
Besought her generous brother: he lead met
Emma's approaching glance, and self-reproved
While the warm blood flushed deeper o'er his cheek,
Thus he replied; I pray you pardon me,
My sister-queen! nay, you will learn to love
This high affection for the race of Owen,
Yourself the daughter of his royal house,
By better lies than blood.
Grateful the queen
Replied, by winning smile and eloquent eye
Thanking the gentle prince: a moment's pause
Ensued; Goervyl then with timely speech
Thus to the wanderer of die waters spake :
Madoc, thou hast not told us of the world
Beyond the ocean and the paths of man.
A lovely land it needs must be, my brother,
Or sure you had not sojourned there so long,
Of me forgetful, and my heavy hours
Of grief ard solitude and wretched hope.
Wherc is Cadwallon? for one bark alone
I saw come sailing here.
The tale
you
ask Is long, Goervyl, said the mariner,
And I in truth am weary. Many moons
Have waxed and waned, since from the distant world,
The country of my dreams and hope and faith,
We spread the homeward sail : a lovely world,
My sister! thou shalt see its goodliness,
Aud greet Cadwallon ilere—but this shall be
To-morrow's tale :-indulge we now the feast!-
You know not with what joy we mariners
Behold a sight like this.
Smiling he spake,
And turning, from the sewer's hand he took
The flowing mead. David, the while, relieved
From rising jealousies, with better eye
Regards his venturous brother. Let the bard,
Exclaimed the king, give his accustomed Jay;
For sweet, I know, to Madoc is the song
He loved in earlier years.
Then, strong of voice,
The officer prociaimed tlie sovereign will, 14
Didding the hall be silent; loud he spake,
And smote the sounding pillar with bis wand,
And lushed the banqucters. The chief of Bards
Then raised the ancient lay. 15
Thee, Lord! he sung,
Father! the eternal ONE! whose wisdom, power,
And love,-all love, all power, all wisdom, Thou!
Nor tongue can utter, nor can heart conceive.
He in the lowest depth of Being framed
The imperishable mind; in every change,
Through the great circle of progressive life,
lle guides and guards, till evil shall be known,
And being known as evil, cease to be; 16
And the pure soul, emancipate by Death,
The Enlarger, '7 shall attain its end predoomed,
The eternal newness of eternal joy. 18
He left this lofty thieme; he struck the harp
To Owen's praise, '9 swift in the course of wrath,
Father of Heroes. That proud day he sung,
Whicn from green Erin came the insulting host,
And not one living soul, -and not one sound, One human sound,-only the raven's wing, Which rose before my coming, and the neigh Of wounded horses, wandering o'er the plain.
Lochlin's lomo burthens of the flood, and they
Who left their distant homes in evil hour,
The death-doomed Normen. There was heaviest toil,
There deeper tumult, where the dragon race
Of Mona trampled down the humbled head
Of haughty power; the sword of slaughter carved
Food for the yellow-footed fowl of heaven,
And Menai's waters, burst with plunge on plunge,
Curling above their banks with tempest-swell
Their bloody billows heaved.
The long-past days
Came on the mind of Madoc, as he heard
The song of triumph: on his sun-burnt brow
Sate exultation :-other thoughts arose,
As on the fate of all his gallaot liouse
Mournful he mused; oppressive memory swelled
His bosom, over his fixed eye-balls swam
The tear's dim lustre, and the loud-toned harp
Rung on his ear in vain;—its silence first
Roused him from dreams of days that were no more.
Night now was coming on; a man approached,
And bade me to his dwellicg nigh at hand.
Thither I turned, too weak to travel on;
For I was overspent with weariness,
And having now no hope to bear me up,
Trouble and bodily labour mastered me.
I asked him of the battle:-who had fallen
He knew not, nor to whom the lot of war
Had given my father's sceptre. Here, said he,
I came to seek if haply I might find
Some wounded wretch, abandoned else to death.
My search was vain, the sword of civil war
Had bit too deeply.
Soon we reached his home,
A lone and lowly dwelling in the bills,
By a grey mountain stream. Beside the hearth
There sate an old blind man; his head was raised
As he were listening to the coming sounds,
And in the fire-ligiit shone lis silver locks.
Father, said he who guided me, I bring
A quest to our poor liospitality!
And then he brought me water from the brook,
And homely fare, and I was satisfied :
That done, be piled the hearth, and spread around
The rushes of repose. I laid me down;
But worn with toil, and full of many fears,
Sleep did not visit me : the quiet sounds
Of nature troubled my distempered sense;
My ear wits busy with the stirring gale,
The moving leaves, the brook's perpetual flow.
Then on the morrow, at the banquet board, The Lord of Ocean thus began his tale.
My heart beat high when with the favouring wind
We sailed 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 commion fame
The moving cause. Sprung i: from bardic lore,
The hidden wisdom of the years of old,
Forgotten long? or did it visit thee
In dreams that come from heaven?
The prioce replied,
Thou shalt hear all;- but if, amid the tale,
Strictly sincere, I haply should rehearse
Aught to the king ungrateful, let my
brother Be patient with the involuntary fault.
So on the morrow languidly I rose,
And faint with fever ; but a restiess wish
Was working in me, and I said, My host,
Wilt thou yo with me to the battle-field,
That I may search the slain? for in the fray
My brethren fought; and though with all my speed
I strove to reach thein ere the strife began,
Alas, I sped 100 slow!
Grievest thou for that?
Ile answered, grievest thou that thou art spared
The shame and guilt of that unhappy strife,
Briton with Briton in unnatural war?
Nay, I replied, mistake me not! I came
To reconcile the chiefs; they might bave heard
Their brother's voice.
'Their brother's voice? said he;
Was it not so? - And thou, too, art the son
Of Owen!- Yesternight I did not know
The cause there is to pity thee. Alas,
Two brethren thou will lose when one shall fall!-
Lament not bim whom death may save from guilt;
For in the conqueror thou art doomed to find
foe, whom his own fears make perilous !
I was the guest of Rhys at Dinevawr, 20
And there the tidings found me, that our sire
Was gathered to his fathers :-not alone
The sorrow came;
the same ill messenger
Told of the strife that shook our royal house,
When Hoel, proud of prowess, seized the throne 21
Which you, for elder claim and lawful birth,
Challenged in arms. With all a brother's love,
I on the instant hurried to prevent
The impious battle:-all the day I sped,
Night did not stay me on my eager way“
Where'er I passed, new rumour raised new fcar-
Midnighi, and morn, and noon, I hurried on, .
And the late eve was darkering when I reached
Arvon, the fatal field.--The sight, the sounds,
Live in my memory now,- for all was done!
For horse and horseman side by side in death,
Lay on the bloody plain;-a host of
men,
I felt as though he wronged my father's sons, And raised au angry eye, and answered liim,My brethren love me.
Then the old man cried, Oh! what is princes' love? what are the ries Of blood, the affections growing as we grow,
|