Clung to the Idol's knees;

The Idol's face was pale, And calm in terror he beheld The approach of the Destroyer.

29.

Sure of his stroke, and therefore in pursuit Following, nor blind, nor hasty, on his foe, Moved the Destroyer. Okba met his way, Of all that brotherhood

He only fearless, miserable man, The one that had no hope. "On me, on me," the childless Sorcerer cried, Let fall the weapon! I am he who stole Upon the midnight of thy Father's tent; This is the hand that pierced Hodeirah's heart, That felt thy brethren's and thy sisters' blood Gush round the dagger-hilt. Let fall on me The fated sword! the vengeance-hour is come! Destroyer, do thy work!

30.

Nor wile, nor weapon, had the desperate wretch; He spread his bosom to the stroke.

"Old Man, I strike thee not!" said Thalaba;
"The evil thou hast done to me and mine
Brought its own bitter punishment.
For thy dear Daughter's sake I pardon thee,
As I do hope Heaven's pardon... For her sake
Repent while time is yet!.. thou hast my prayers
To aid thee; thou poor sinner, cast thyself
Upon the goodness of offended God!

I speak in Laila's name; and what if now
Thou canst not think to join in Paradise
Her spotless Spirit,.. hath not Allah made
Al-Araf, in his wisdom ? where the sight

Of Heaven may kindle in the penitent
The strong and purifying fire of hope,
Till, at the Day of Judgement, he shall see
The Mercy-Gates unfold."

31.

The astonish'd man stood gazing as he spake,
At length his heart was soften'd, and the tears
Gush'd, and he sobb'd aloud.
Then suddenly was heard
The all-beholding Prophet's voice divine,
"Thou hast done well, my Servant!
Ask and receive thy reward!”

1 Araf is a place between the Paradise and the Hell of the Mahommedans; some deem it a veil of separation, some a strong wall. Others hold it to be a Purgatory, in which those believers will remain, whose good and evil works have been so equal, that they were neither virtuous enough to enter Paradise, nor guilty enough to be condemned to the fire of Hell. From whence they see the glory of the blessed, and are near enough to congratulate them; but their ardent desire to partake the same happiness becomes a great pain.

32.

A deep and aweful joy

Seem'd to dilate the heart of Thalaba; With arms in reverence cross'd upon his breast, Upseeking eyes suffused with tears devout, He answered to the Voice, "Prophet of God, Holy, and good, and bountiful! One only earthly wish have I, to work Thy will; and thy protection grants me that. Look on this Sorcerer! heavy are his crimes, But infinite is mercy! if thy servant Have now found favour in the sight of God, Let him be touch'd with penitence, and save His soul from utter death.”

33.

"The groans of penitence," replied the Voice, "Never arise unheard!

But, for thyself, prefer the prayer ;
The Treasure-house of Heaven
Is open to thy will."

34.

"Prophet of God!" then answered Thalaba, "I am alone on earth;

Thou knowest the secret wishes of my heart! Do with me as thou wilt! thy will is best."

35.

There issued forth no Voice to answer him; But, lo! Hodeirah's Spirit comes to see His vengeance, and beside him, a pure form Of roseate light, his Angel mother hung. "My Child, my dear, my glorious.. blessed.. Child, My promise is perform'd.. fulfil thy work!".

36.

Thalaba knew that his death-hour was come; And on he leapt, and springing up,

Into the Idol's heart

Hilt deep he plunged the Sword.

The Ocean-vault fell in, and all were crush'd.
In the same moment, at the gate
Of Paradise, Oneiza's Houri form
Welcomed her Husband to eternal bliss.

At length, at the day of judgement, when all men, before they are judged, shall be cited to render homage to their Creator, those who are here confined shall prostrate themselves before the face of the Lord, in adoration: and by this act of religion, which shall be accounted a merit, the number of their good works will exceed their evil ones, and they will enter into glory.

Saadi says, that Araf appears a Hell to the happy, and a Paradise to the damned.-D'Herbelot.

TO

PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION.

THE historical facts on which this Poem is founded may be related in a few words. On the death of Owen Gwyneth, king of North Wales, A. D. 1169, his children disputed the succession. Yorwerth, the elder, was set aside without a struggle, as being incapacitated by a blemish in his face. Hoel, though illegitimate, and born of an Irish mother, obtained possession of the throne for a while, till he was defeated and slain by David, the eldest son of the late king by a second wife. The conqueror, who then succeeded without opposition, slew Yorwerth, imprisoned Rodri, and hunted others of his brethren into exile. But Madoc, meantime, abandoned his barbarous country, and sailed away to the West in search of some better resting-place. The land which he discovered pleased him he left there part of his people, and went back to Wales for a fresh supply of adventurers, with whom he again set sail, and was heard of no more. Strong evidence has been adduced that he reached America, and that his posterity exist there to this day, on the southern branches of the Missouri1, retaining their complexion, their language, and, in some degree, their arts.

About the same time, the Aztecas, an American tribe, in consequence of certain calamities, and of a particular omen, forsook Aztlan, their own country, under the guidance of Yuhidthiton. They became a mighty people, and founded the Mexican empire, taking the name of Mexicans, in honour of Mexitli, their tutelary god. Their emigration is here connected with the adventures of Madoc, and their superstition is represented as the same which their

1 That country has now been fully explored, and whereever Madoc may have settled, it is now certain that no Welsh

descendants practised, when discovered by the Spaniards. The manners of the Poem, in both its parts, will be found historically true. It assumes not the degraded title of Epic: and the question, therefore, is not whether the story is formed upon the rules of Aristotle, but whether it be adapted to the purposes of poetry.

Keswick, 1805.

"Three things must be avoided in Poetry; the frivolous, the obscure, and the superfluous. "The three excellencies of Poetry; simplicity of language, simplicity of subject, and simplicity of invention.

The three indispensable purities of Poetry; pure truth, pure language, and pure manuers.

"Three things should all Poetry be; thoroughly erudite, thoroughly animated, and thoroughly natural." — Triads.

COME, LISTEN TO A TALE OF TIMES OF OLD!
COME, FOR YE KNOW ME. I AM HE WHO SANG
THE MAID OF ARC, AND I AM HE WHO FRAMED
OF THALABA THE WILD AND WONDROUS SONG.
COME, LISTEN TO MY LAY, AND YE SHALL HEAR
HOW MADOC FROM THE SHORES OF BRITAIN SPREAD
THE ADVENTUROUS SAIL, EXPLORED THE OCEAN PATHS,
AND QUELLED BARBARIAN POWER, AND OVERTHREW
THE BLOODY ALTARS OF IDOLATRY,

AND PLANTED IN ITS FANES TRIUMPHANTLY
THE CROSS OF CHRIST. COME, LISTEN TO MY LAY!

Indians are to be found upon any branches of the Missouri. -1815.

MADOC IN WALES.

PART I.

I.

THE RETURN TO WALES.

Here stands one

FAIR blows the wind,.. the vessel drives along,
Her streamers fluttering at their length, her sails
All full,.. she drives along, and round her prow
Scatters the ocean spray. What feelings then
Fill'd every bosom, when the mariners,
After the peril of that weary way,
Beheld their own dear country!
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 headland and the cape and bay,
Till his eyes ache o'erstraining. This man shakes
His comrade's hand and bids him 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 Madoc1; now his noble enterprize
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
Rush'd roaring through the waves.

The sun goes down:
Far off his light is on the naked crags
Of Penmanmawr, and Arvon's ancient hills;
And the last glory lingers yet awhile,
Crowning old Snowdon's venerable head,
That rose amid his mountains. Now the ship
Drew nigh where Mona, the dark island 2, stretch'd
Her shore along the ocean's lighter line.
There through the mist and twilight, many a fire

1 Long after these lines had been written, I was pleased at finding the same feeling expressed in a very singular specimen of metrical auto-biography:

"A Nao, despregando as velas

Ja se aproveita do vento;

E de evidente alegria

Os Portuguezes ja cheios
Sobre o conves estam todos;
Na terra se vam revendo
Igrejas, Palacios, Quintas,
De que tem conhecimento,
Daqui, dalli apontando

Vam ledamente co dedo.
Todos fallando demostram
Seus jubilos manifestos;
Mas o Vieira occupado
Vai de hum notavel silencio.
Seu excessivo alvoroço
Tumultuante, que dentro
No peito sente, lhe causa
De sobresalto os effeitos.

Up-flaming stream'd upon the level sea

Red lines of lengthening light, which, far away
Rising and falling, flash'd athwart the waves.
Thereat full many a thought of ill disturb'd
Prince Madoc's mind;.. did some new conqueror seize
The throne of David? had the tyrant's guilt
Awaken'd 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 reach'd at length
Her haven, safe from her unequall'd way!

And now, in louder and yet louder joy
Clamorous, the happy mariners all-hail

Their native shore, and now they leap to land.

There stood an old man on the beach to wait The comers from the ocean; and he ask'd, Is it the Prince? And Madoc knew his voice, And turn'd to him and fell upon his neck; For it was Urien who had foster'd him, Had 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 look'd Toward the waters, and with aching eyes And aching heart, sate watching every sail.

And David and our brethren? cried the Prince, As they moved on... But then old Urien's lips Were slow at answer; and he spake, and paused In the first breath of utterance, as to choose 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 follow'd;.. Madoc, need I say

Quanto mais elle chegando

Vai ao suspirado termo,
Mais se lhe augmenta o gostoso

Susto no doce projecto."- Vieira Lusitano.

2 Ynys Dowyll, the dark island.

Rhodri

3 The palace of Gwynedd, or North Wales. Mawr, about the year 873, fixed the seat of government here, which had formerly been at Dyganwy, but latterly at Caer Seiont in Arvon, near the present town of Caernarvon. "It is strange," says Warrington, "that he should desert a country where every mountain was a natural fortress, and in times of such difficulty and danger should make choice of a residence so exposed and defenceless." But this very danger may have been his motive. The Danes, who could make no impression upon England against the great Alfred, had turned their arms upon Wales; Mona was the part most open to their ravages, and it may have been an act as well of policy as of courage in the king to fix his abode there. He fell there, at length, in battle against the Saxons. A barn now stands upon the site of the palace, in which there are stones that, by their better workmanship, appear to have belonged to the original building.

Who sent the sword?.. Llewelyn, his brave boy,
Where wanders he? in this his rightful realm,
Houseless and hunted; richly would the king
Gift the red hand that rid him of that fear!
Ririd, an outlaw'd fugitive, as yet
Eludes his deadly purpose; 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 house!.. that princely race!
The beautiful band of brethren that they were!

Madoc made no reply, . . he closed his eyes, Groaning. But Urien, for his heart was full, Loving to linger on the woe, pursued: I did not think to live to such an hour Of joy as this! and often, when my sight Turn'd 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 ask'd their import. The old man replied,
It is the giddy people merry-making

To welcome their new Queen; unheeding 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 exclaim'd, hath he forgotten all?
David! King Owen's son,.. my father's son,..
He wed the Saxon,.. the Plantagenet! 2

Quoth Urien, He so doats, as she had dropt
Some philtre in his cup, to lethargize
The British blood that came from Owen'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 indignant Prince:
Oh that my Father's hall, where I have heard
The songs of Corwen and of Keiriog's day,
Should echo this pollution! Will the chiefs
Brook this alliance, this unnatural tie?

There is no face but wears a courtly smile, Urien replied: Aberfraw's ancient towers Beheld 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 her solitude, lamenting thee.

Saw ye not then my banner? quoth the Lord Of Ocean; on the topmast-head it stood

"It was the manner of those days, that the murtherer only, and he that gave the death's wound, should fly, which was called in Welsh Llawrudd, which is a red hand, because he had blouded his hands. The accessories and abettors to the murtherers were never hearkened after." - Gwydir History.

2 This marriage was in fact one of the means whereby Henry succeeded for a time in breaking the independent spirit of the Welsh. David immediately sent a thousand men

To tell the tale of triumph;.. or did night
Hide the glad signal, and the joy hath yet
To reach her?

Now had they almost attain'd
Urien stopt and said,

The palace portal.
The child should know your coming; it is long
Since she hath heard a voice that to her heart
Spake gladness; . . none but I must tell her this.
So Urien sought Goervyl, whom he found
Alone and gazing on the moonlight sea.

Oh you are welcome, Urien! 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 heart down, God in his goodness may reserve for us That blessing yet! I have yet life enow To trust that I shall live to see the day, Albeit the number of my years well nigh Be full.

Ill-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 his 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,
In half-articulate words,.. They said, my child,
That Madoc lived,.. that soon he would be here.

She had received the shock of happiness:
Urien she cried. . thou art not mocking me!
!
Nothing the old man spake, but spread his arms
Sobbing aloud. Goervyl from their hold
Started, and sunk upon her brother's breast.

Recovering first, the aged Urien said,
Enough of this,... there will be time for this,
My children! better it behoves ye now
To seek the King. And, Madoc, I beseech thee,
Bear with thy brother! gently bear with him,
My gentle Prince! he is the headstrong slave
Of passions unsubdued 3; he feels no tie
Of kindly love, or blood; . . provoke him not,
Madoc !... It is his nature's malady.

Thou good old man! replied the Prince, be sure

I shall remember what to him is due,
What to myself; for I was in my youth
Wisely and well train'd up; nor yet hath time
Effaced the lore my foster-father taught.

to serve under his brother-in-law and liege lord in Normandy, and shortly after attended the parliament at Oxford upon his summons.

3" Caradoc represents Davydd as a prince greatly disliked on account of his cruelty and untractable spirit, killing and putting out the eyes of those who were not subservient to his will, after the manner of the English!"- Cambrian Biography.