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And hear me out.

Gerald at this, who felt

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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.

Sayest thou to-night?

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.

While he spake,

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?

It were well;

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.

At the western porch,

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!

Then Madoc took

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.

Beside the grave

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!

But at that,

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

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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.

They at his word

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.

As for ye,

For your own safety, ye I ween will keep
My secret safe. So saying, he went his way.

XVI.

DAVID.

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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