A natural horror, sought, . . as best he knew The haughty Primate's temper, to dissuade By politic argument, and chiefly urged The quick and fiery nature of our nation,. How at the sight of such indignity,
They would arise in arms, and limb from limb Tear piecemeal him and all his company. So far did this prevail, that he will now Commit the deed in secret; and, this night, Thy father's body from its resting-place, O Madoc! shall be torn, and cast aside In some unhallow'd pit, with foul disgrace And contumelious wrong.
Quoth Madoc... Aye, at midnight, he replied,
Shall this impiety be perpetrated.
Therefore hath Gerald, for the reverence He bears to Owen's royal memory,
Sent thee the tidings. Now be temperate In thy just anger, Prince! and shed no blood. Thou know'st how dearly the Plantagenet Atones for Becket's death; and be thou sure, Though thou thyself shouldst sail beyond the storm, That it would fall on Britain.
Madoc was still; the feeling work'd too deep
For speech, or visible sign. At length he said, What if amid their midnight sacrilege
I should appear among them?
The Monk replied, if, at a sight like that,
Thou canst withhold thy hand.
Oh, fear me not! Good and true friend, said Madoc. I am calm, And calm as thou beholdest me will prove In word and action. Quick I am to feel Light ills,.. perhaps o'er-hasty: summer gnats, Finding my cheek unguarded, may infix Their skin-deep stings, to vex and irritate ; But if the wolf, or forest boar, be nigh, I am awake to danger. Even so Bear I a mind of steel and adamant
Against all greater wrongs. My heart hath now Received its impulse; and thou shalt behold How in this strange and hideous circumstance I shall find profit. . . . Only, my true friend, Let me have entrance.
Between the complines and the matin-bell, . .
The Monk made answer: thou shalt find the door Ready. Thy single person will suffice;
For Baldwin knows his danger, and the hour Of guilt or fear convicts him, both alike Opprobrious. Now, farewell!
His host aside, and in his private ear
Told him the purport, and wherein his help Was needed. Night came on; the hearth was heapt, The women went to rest. They twain, the while, Sate at the board, and while the untasted bowl Stood by them, watch'd the glass whose falling sands Told out the weary hours. The hour is come; Prince Madoc helm'd his head, and from his neck
He slung the bugle-horn; they took their shields, And lance in hand went forth. And now arrived,
The bolts give back before them, and the door
Rolls on its heavy hinge.
Stood Baldwin and the Prior, who, albeit Cambrian himself, in fear and awe obey'd
The lordly Primate's will. They stood and watch Their ministers perform the irreverent work. And now with spade and mattock have they broken Into the house of death, and now have they From the stone coffin wrench'd the iron cramps, When sudden interruption startled them,
And clad in complete mail from head to foot, They saw the Prince come in. Their tapers gleam'd Upon his visage, as he wore his helm
Open; and when in that pale countenance,.. For the strong feeling blanch'd his cheek,.. they saw His father's living lineaments, a fear
Like ague shook them. But anon that fit
Of scared imagination to the sense
Of other peril yielded, when they heard
Prince Madoc's dreadful voice. Stay! he exclaim'd, As now they would have fled; . . stir not a man, . Or if I once put breath into this horn,
All Wales will hear, as if dead Owen call'd For vengeance from that grave. Stir not a man, Or not a man shall live! The doors are watch'd, And ye are at my mercy!
Baldwin from the altar seized the crucifix, And held it forth to Madoc, and cried out,
He who strikes me, strikes Him; forbear, on pain
Peace! quoth Madoc, and profane not The holy Cross, with those polluted hands
Of midnight sacrilege!.. Peace! I harm thee not, . Be wise, and thou art safe... For thee, thou know'st, Prior, that if thy treason were divulged,
David would hang thee on thy steeple top, To feed the steeple daws: Obey and live! Go, bring fine linen and a coffer meet To bear these relics; and do ye, meanwhile, Proceed upon your work.
Raised the stone cover, and display'd the dead,
In royal grave-clothes habited, his arms
Cross'd on the breast, with precious gums and spice Fragrant, and incorruptibly preserved.
At Madoc's bidding, round the corpse they wrap The linen web, fold within fold involved; They laid it in the coffer, and with cloth At head and foot filled every interval
And prest it down compact; they closed the lid, And Madoc with his signet seal'd it thrice. Then said he to his host, Bear thou at dawn This treasure to the ships. My father's bones Shall have their resting-place, where mine one day May moulder by their side. He shall be free In death, who living did so well maintain His and his country's freedom.
For your own safety, ye I ween will keep My secret safe. So saying, he went his way.
Now hath the Lord of Ocean once again Set foot in Mona. Llaian there receives Sisterly greeting from the royal maid, Who, while she tempers to the public eye Her welcome, safely to the boy indulged In fond endearments of instinctive love. When the first flow of joy was overpast, How went the equipment on, the Prince enquired. Nay, brother, quoth Goervyl, ask thou that Of Urien; . . it hath been his sole employ Daily from cock-crow until even-song, That he hath laid aside all other thoughts, Forgetful even of me! She said and smiled Playful reproach upon the good old man, Who in such chiding as affection loves, Dallying with terms of wrong, return'd rebuke. There, Madoc, pointing to the shore, he cried, There are they moor'd; six gallant barks, as trim And worthy of the sea as ever yet
Gave canvass to the gale. The mariners Flock to thy banner, and the call hath roused Many a brave spirit. Soon as Spring shall serve, There need be no delay. I should depart Without one wish that lingers, could we bear Ririd from hence, and break poor Rodri's chains, Thy lion-hearted brother; and that boy,
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