The clouds hang thick and heavy o'er the deep,
And heavily, upon the long slow swell,
The vessel labour'd on the labouring 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, And pause at times, and feel that we are safe; Then listen to the perilous tale again, And with an eager and suspended soul, Woo terror to delight us. . . . But to hear The roaring of the raging elements, . . To know all human skill, all human strength, Avail not, to look round, and only see The mountain wave incumbent with its weight Of bursting waters o'er the reeling bark, . . . O God, this is indeed a dreadful thing! And he who hath endured the horror once Of such an hour, doth never hear the storm Howl round his home, but he remembers it, And thinks upon the suffering mariner.

Onward we drove with unabating force The tempest raged; night added to the storm New horrors, and the morn arose o'erspread With heavier clouds. The weary mariners

Call'd on Saint Cyric's aid; and I too placed
My hope on Heaven, relaxing not the while
Our human efforts. Ye who dwell at home,
Ye do not know the terrors of the main !
When the winds blow, ye walk along the shore,
And as the curling billows leap and toss,

Fable that Ocean's mermaid Shepherdess

Drives her white flocks afield, and warns in time
The wary fisherman. Gwenhidwy warned
When we had no retreat! My secret heart
Almost had fail'd me... Were the Elements
Confounded in perpetual conflict here,

Sea, Air, and Heaven? Or were we perishing
Where at their source the Floods, for ever thus,
Beneath the nearer influence of the Moon,

Labour'd in these mad workings? Did the Waters
Here on their outmost circle meet the Void,
The verge and brink of Chaos ? Or this Earth, . .
Was it indeed a living thing, . . its breath
The ebb and flow of Ocean? and had we
Reached the storm rampart of its Sanctuary,
The insuperable boundary, raised to guard
Its mysteries from the eye of man profane?

Three dreadful nights and days we drove along; The fourth, the welcome rain came rattling down, The wind had fallen, and through the broken cloud Appeared the bright dilating blue of heaven. Embolden'd now, I call'd the mariners : Vain were it should we bend a homeward course, Driven by the storm so far: they saw our barks, For service of that long and perilous way

Disabled, and our food belike to fail.
Silent they heard, reluctant in assent;
Anon, they shouted joyfully, . . I look'd
And saw a bird slow sailing overhead,

His long white pinions by the sunbeam edged
As though with burnish'd silver; . . never yet
Heard I so sweet a music as his cry!

Yet three days more, and hope more eager now, Sure of the signs of land, . . weed-shoals, and birds Who flock'd the main, and gentle airs which breathed, Or seemed to breathe, fresh fragrance from the shore. On the last evening, a long shadowy line Skirted the sea; . . how fast the night closed in ! I stood upon the deck, and watch'd till dawn. But who can tell what feelings fill'd my heart, When like a cloud the distant land arose

And cleft, with rapid oars, the shallow wave,
And stood triumphant on another world!

V.

LINCOYA.

MADOC had paused awhile; but every eye
Still watch'd his lips, and every voice was hush'd.
Soon as I leapt ashore, pursues the Lord

Of Ocean, prostrate on my face I fell,

Kiss'd the dear earth, and pray'd with thankful tears.
Hard by a brook was flowing; .. never yet,
Even from the gold-tipt horn of victory
With harp and song amid my father's hall,
Pledged I so sweet a draught, as lying there,
Beside that streamlet's brink!.. to feel the ground,
To quaff the cool clear water, to inhale

The breeze of land, while fears and dangers past
Recurr'd and heighten'd joy, as summer storms
Make the fresh evening lovelier!

To the shore
The natives throng'd; astonish'd, they beheld
Our winged barks, and gazed with wonderment
On the strange garb, the bearded countenance
And the white skin, in all unlike themselves.
I see with what enquiring eyes you ask
What men were they? Of dark-brown colour, tinged
With sunny redness; wild of eye; their brows
So smooth, as never yet anxiety

Nor busy thought had made a furrow there;

Beardless, and each to each of lineaments

So like, they seem'd but one great family.
Their loins were loosely cinctured, all beside
Bare to the sun and wind; and thus their limbs
Unmanacled display'd the truest forms

Of strength and beauty. Fearless sure they were,
And while they eyed us grasp'd their spears, as if,
Like Britain's injured but unconquer'd sons,
They too had known how perilous it was
To let a stranger, if he came in arms,

Set foot upon their land.

But soon the guise

Of men nor purporting nor fearing ill,

Gain'd confidence; their wild distrustful looks
Assumed a milder meaning; over one

I cast my mantle, on another's head

The velvet bonnet placed, and all was joy.
We now besought for food; at once they read
Our gestures, but I cast a hopeless eye

On hills and thickets, woods, and marshy plains,
A waste of rank luxuriance all around.
Thus musing to a lake I follow'd them,

Left when the rivers to their summer course
Withdrew; they scatter'd on its water drugs
Of such strange potency, that soon the shoals
Coop'd there by Nature prodigally kind,
Floated inebriate. As I gazed, a deer

Sprung from the bordering thicket; the true shaft
Scarce with the distant victim's blood had stain'd
Its point, when instantly he dropt and died,
Such deadly juice imbued it; yet on this

We made our meal unharm'd; and I perceived