That knew not where to rest. Come! we will The victim of the murderer! Does thy heart

From that good God, who chastens whom he loves. The weight of years; all passions that disturb

Were past away; the stronger lines of grief
Softened and settled, till they told of grief
By patient hope and piety subdued:

There, upon that wide field! What meanest thou?

I cried. That yonder waters are not spread

His eyes, which had their hue and brightness left, A boundless waste, a bourne impassable!

Fix'd lifelessly, or objectless they roll'd,

Nor moved by sense, nor animate with thought.
On a smooth stone beside the stream he took
His wonted seat in the sunshine. Thou hast lost
A brother, Prince, he said-or the dull ear
Of age deceived me. Peace be with his soul !
And may the curse that lies upon the house
Of Owen turn away! Wilt thou come hither,
And let me feel thy face?-I wondered at him:
Yet while his hand perused my lineaments,
Deep awe and reverence fill'd me. O my God,
Bless this young man! he cried; a perilous state
Is his;- but let not thou his father's sins
Be visited on him!

I raised my eyes,
Inquiring, to Cadwallon; Nay, young Prince,
Despise not thou the blind man's prayer! he cried;
It might have given thy father's dying hour
A hope, that sure he needed — for, know thou,
It is the victim of thy father's crime,
Who asks a blessing on thee!

At his feet

I fell, and clasp'd his knees: he raised me up; -
Blind as I was, a mutilated wretch,

A thing that nature owns not, I survived,
Loathing existence, and with impious voice
Accused the will of Heaven, and groan'd for death.
Years pass'd away; this universal blank
Became familiar, and my soul reposed
On God, and I had comfort in my prayers.
But there were blessings for me yet in store
Thy father knew not, when his bloody fear
All hope of an avenger had cut off,
How there existed then an unborn babe,
Child of my lawless love. Year after year
I lived a lonely and forgotten wretch,
Before Cadwallon knew his father's fate,
Long years and years before I knew my son;
For never, till his mother's dying hour,

NOT with a heart unmoved I left thy shores,
Dear native isle! oh-not without a pang,
As thy fair uplands lessened 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

Learnt he his dangerous birth. He sought me Before, and froth'd, and whiten'd far behind.

then ;

He woke my soul once more to human ties;

I hope he hath not wean'd my heart from Heaven,
Life is so precious now!-

Dear, good old man!
And lives he still? Goervyl ask'd, 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 breathed upon me
Went like a death-bed blessing to my heart!

Day after day, with one auspicious wind,
Right to the setting sun we held our course.

| My hope had kindled every heart; they blest
The unvarying breeze, whose unabating strength
Still sped us onward; and they said that Heaven
Favor'd the bold emprise.

How many a time,
Mounting the mast-tower-top, with eager ken
They gazed, and fancied in the distant sky
Their promised shore, beneath the evening cloud,
Or seen, low lying, through the haze of morn.
I, too, with eyes as anxious watch'd the waves,

When evening came, toward the echoing shore Though patient, and prepared for long delay;

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 heaved and flash'd
Its restless rays, intolerably bright.

Prince, quoth Cadwallon, thou hast rode the waves
In triumph, when the invaders felt thine arm.
Oh, what a nobler conquest might be won,

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 matured 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 murmurings; nor avail'd it long
To see and not perceive. Shame had awhile
Repress'd 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 dared do, ventured 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,

Still to pursue the desperate enterprise
Were impious madness! they had deem'd, indeed,
That Heaven in favor gave the unchanging gale ;-
More reason now to think offended God,
When man's presumptuous folly strove to pass
The fated limits of the world, had sent
His winds, to waft us to the death we sought.
Their lives were dear, they bade me know, and they
Many, and I, the obstinate, but one.
With that, attending no reply, they hailed
Our fellow bark, and told their fix'd resolve.
A shout of joy approved. Thus, desperate now,
I sought my solitary cabin; there
Confused with vague, tumultuous feelings lay,
And to remembrance and reflection lost,
Knew only I was wretched.

Thus entranced

Cadwallon found me; shame, and grief, and pride,
And baffled hope, and fruitless anger swell'd

I ask'd them what their comrades there would deem Within me. All is over! I exclaim'd;
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 ventured 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 favor of the steady gale,
That Heaven was with us

Yet not in me, my friend, hath time produced
These tardy doubts and shameful fickleness;
I have not fail'd, Cadwallon! Nay, he said,
The coward fears which persecuted me
Have shown what thou hast suffer'd. We have yet
One hope-I pray'd them to proceed a day,-
But one day more; this little have I gain'd,
And here will wait the issue; in yon bark
I am not needed, — they are masters there.
there.

still

Heaven vouchsafed us

Fair seas and favoring skies; nor need we pray
For other aid; the rest was in ourselves;
Nature had given it, when she gave to man
Courage and constancy.

They answer'd not,
Awhile obedient; but I saw with dread
The silent sullenness of cold assent.
Then, with what fearful eagerness I gazed,
At earliest daybreak, o'er the distant deep!
How sick at heart with hope, when evening closed,
Gazed through the gathering shadows! - but I saw
The sun still sink below the endless waves,
And still at morn, beneath the farthest sky,
Unbounded ocean heaved. Day after day
Before the steady gale we drove along, -
Day after day! The fourth week now had past;
Still all around was sea,

- the eternal sea!

So long that we had voyaged on so fast,
And still at morning where we were at night,
And where we were at morn, at nightfall still,
The centre of that drear circumference,
Progressive, yet no change!—almost it seem'd
That we had pass'd the mortal bounds of space,
And speed was toiling in infinity.

My days were days of fear; my hours of rest
Were like a tyrant's slumber. Sullen looks,
Eyes turn'd on me, and whispers meant to meet
My ear, and loud despondency, and talk
Of home, now never to be seen again,-

I suffer'd these, dissembling as I could,
Till that avail'd no longer. Resolute

The men came round me. They had shown enough
Of courage now, enough of constancy;

One only day! - The gale blew strong, the bark
Sped through the waters; but the silent hours,
Who make no pause, went by; and centred still,
We saw the dreary vacancy of heaven
Close round our narrow view, when that brief term,
The last, poor respite of our hopes, expired.
They shorten'd sail, and call'd with coward prayer
For homeward winds. (Why, what poor slaves are
we !

In bitterness I cried; the sport of chance;
Left to the mercy of the elements,
Or the more wayward will of such as these,
Blind tools and victims of their destiny!
Yea, Madoc! he replied, the Elements
Master indeed the feeble powers of man!
Not to the shores of Cambria will thy ships
Win back their shameful way! -or HE, whose will
Unchains the winds, hath bade them minister
To aid us, when all human hope was gone,
Or we shall soon eternally repose
From life's long voyage.

As he spake, I saw
The clouds hang thick and heavy o'er the deep,
And heavily, upon the long, slow swell,
The vessel labor'd on the laboring sea.
The reef-points rattled on the shivering sail;
At fits the sudden gust howl'd ominous,
Anon with unremitting fury raged;
High roll'd the mighty billows, and the blast
Swept from their sheeted sides the showery foam.
Vain now were all the seamen's homeward hopes,
Vain all their skill! we drove before the storm.

'Tis pleasant, by the cheerful hearth, to hear Of tempests and the dangers of the deep,

Or seemed to breathe fresh fragrance from the shore. Of such strange potency, that soon the shoals, On the last evening, a long, shadowy line

Floated inebriate. As I gazed, a deer

Came down:- yea! like a Demon's arm, it seized

Sprung from the bordering thicket; the true shaft | The waters; Ocean smoked beneath its touch,

Scarce with the distant victim's blood had stain'd

Its point, when instantly he dropp'd and died,
Such deadly juice imbued it; yet on this

We made our meal unharm'd; and I perceived
The wisest leech that ever in our world
Cull'd herbs of hidden virtue, was to these
A child in knowledge.

Sorrowing we beheld
The night come on; but soon did night display
More wonders than it veil'd: innumerous tribes
From the wood-cover swarm'd, and darkness made
Their beauties visible; one while they stream'd
A bright blue radiance upon flowers which closed
Their gorgeous colors from the eye of day;
Now, motionless and dark, eluded search,
Self-shrouded; and anon, starring the sky,
Rose like a shower of fire.

Our friendly hosts
Now led us to the hut, our that night's home,
A rude and spacious dwelling: twisted boughs,
And canes, and withies formed the walls and roof;
And from the unhewn trunks which pillar'd it,
Low nets of interwoven reeds were hung.

And rose like dust before the whirlwind's force.
But we sail'd onward over tranquil seas,
Wafted by airs so exquisitely mild,
That even to breathe became an act of will,
And sense, and pleasure. Not a cloud, by day,
With purple islanded the dark-blue deep;
By night the quiet billows heaved and glanced
Under the moon, that heavenly moon! so bright,
That many a midnight have I paced the deck,
Forgetful of the hours of due repose;
Yea, till the Sun, in his full majesty,
Went forth, like God beholding his own works.

Once, when a chief was feasting us on shore,
A captive served the food: I mark'd the youth,
For he had features of a gentler race;
And oftentimes his eye was fix'd on me,
With looks of more than wonder. We return'd
At evening to our ships; at night a voice
Came from the sea, the intelligible voice
Of earnest supplication: he had swum
To trust our mercy; up the side he sprang,
And look'd among the crew, and singling me,

With shouts of honor here they gather'd round me, Fell at my feet. Such friendly tokenings
Ungarmented my limbs, and in a net

With softest feathers lined, a pleasant couch,

They laid and left me.

To our ships return'd,
After soft sojourn here, we coasted on,
Insatiate of the wonders and the charms
Of earth, and air, and sea. Thy summer woods
Are lovely, O my mother isle! the birch
Light bending on thy banks, thy elmy vales,
Thy venerable oaks! But there, what forms
Of beauty clothed the inlands and the shore!
All these in stateliest growth, and mixt with these
Dark spreading cedar, and the cypress tall,
Its pointed summit waving to the wind
Like a long beacon flame; and loveliest
Amid a thousand strange and lovely shapes,
The lofty palm, that with its nuts supplied

As our short commerce with the native tribes
Had taught, I proffer'd, and sincerity
Gave force and meaning to the half-learnt forms.
For one we needed who might speak for us;
And well I liked the youth,- the open lines
Which character'd his face, the fearless heart,
Which gave at once and won full confidence.
So that night at my feet Lincoya slept.

When I display'd whate'er might gratify,
Whate'er surprise, with most delight he view'd
Our arms, the iron helm, the pliant mail,
The buckler strong to save; and then he shook
The lance, and grasp'd the sword, and turn'd to me
With vehement words and gestures, every limb
Working with one strong passion; and he placed
The falchion in my hand, and gave the shield,

Beverage and food; they edged the shore, and And pointed south and west, that I should go

crown'd

The far-off highland summits, their straight stems
Bare, without leaf or bough, erect and smooth,
Their tresses nodding like a crested helm,
The plumage of the grove.

Will ye believe
The wonders of the ocean? how its shoals
Sprang from the wave, like flashing light,
wing,

To conquer and protect; anon he wept
Aloud, and clasp'd my knees, and falling, fain
He would have kiss'd my feet. Went we to shore?
Then would he labor restlessly to show
A better place lay onward; and in the sand
To south and west he drew the line of coast,
And figured how a mighty river there
took Ran to the sea. The land bent westward soon,
And, thus confirm'd, we voyaged on to seek
The river inlet, following at the will
Of our new friend and we learnt after him,
Well pleased and proud to teach, what this was
call'd,

And, twinkling with a silver glitterance,
Flew through the air and sunshine? yet were these
To sight less wondrous than the tribe who awam,
Following like fowlers with uplifted eye
Their falling quarry-language cannot paint
Their splendid tints; though in blue ocean seen,
Blue, darkly, deeply, beautifully blue,
In all its rich variety of shades,
Suffused with glowing gold.

Heaven, too, had there
Its wonders: - from a deep, black, heavy cloud,
What shall I say? -a shoot, a trunk, an arm

What that, with no unprofitable pains.
Nor light the joy I felt at hearing first
The pleasant accents of my native tongue,
Albeit in broken words and tones uncouth,
Come from these foreign lips.

At length we came
Where the great river, amid shoals, and banks,
And islands, growth of its own gathering spoils,