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; 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.

Haste, haste! exclaim'd Goervyl;.. for her heart Smote her in sudden terror at the thought Of Yorwerth, and of Owen's broken house; . I dread his dark suspicions!

Not for me

Suffer that fear, my sister! quoth the Prince.
Safe is the straight and open way I tread;
Nor hath God made the human heart so bad
That thou or I should have a danger there.
So saying, they toward the palace gate
Went on, ere yet Aberfraw had received
The tidings of her wanderer's glad return.

II.

THE MARRIAGE FEAST.

THE guests were seated at the festal board;
Green rushes strewed the floor; high in the hall
Was David; Emma, in her bridal robe,
In youth, in beauty, by her husband's side
Sate at the marriage feast. The monarch raised
His eyes, he saw the mariner approach;
Madoc! he cried; strong nature's impulses
Prevail'd, and with a holy joy he met

His brother's warm embrace.

With that what peals

Of exultation shook Aberfraw's tower!

How then re-echoing rang the home of Kings,
When from subduëd Ocean, from the World
That he had first foreseen, he first had found,
Came her triumphant child! The mariners,
A happy band, enter the clamorous hall;
Friend greets with friend, and all are friends; one joy
Fills with one common feeling every heart,
And strangers give and take the welcoming
Of hand and voice and eye. That boisterous joy
At length allay'd, the board was spread anew,
Anew the horn was brimm'd, the central hearth
Built up anew for later revelries.

Now to the ready feast! the seneschal

Duly below the pillars ranged the crew;
Toward the guest's most honourable seat

The King himself led his brave brother; . . then,
Eyeing the lovely Saxon as he spake,

Here, Madoc, see thy sister! thou hast been
Long absent, and our house hath felt the while
Sad diminution; but my arm at last

Hath rooted out rebellion from the land;
And I have stablish'd now our ancient house,
Grafting a scyon from the royal tree

Of England on the sceptre; so shall peace
Bless our dear country.

Long and happy years Await my sovereigns! thus the Prince replied, And long may our dear country rest in peace! Enough of sorrow hath our royal house

Known in the field of battles, . . yet we reap'd The harvest of renown.

Aye, many a day,

David replied, together have we led

The onset... Dost thou not remember, brother,

How in that hot and unexpected charge

On Keiriog's bank, we gave

Their welcoming?

the enemy

And Berwyn's after-strife! Quoth Madoc, as the memory kindled him: The fool that day, who in his masque attire Sported before King Henry, wished in vain. Fitlier habiliments of javelin-proof! And yet not more precipitate that fool Dropt his mock weapons, than the archers cast Desperate their bows and quivers-full away,

When we leapt on, and in the mire and blood
Trampled their banner!

That, exclaimed the king,

That was a day indeed, which I may still
Proudly remember, proved as I have been
In conflicts of such perilous assay,

That Saxon combat seem'd like woman's war.
When with the traitor Hoel I did wage

The deadly battle, then was I in truth

Put to the proof; no vantage-ground was there,
Nor famine, nor disease, nor storms to aid,
But equal, hard, close battle, man to man,
Briton to Briton. By my soul, pursued
The tyrant, heedless how from Madoc's eye
Flash'd the quick wrath like lightning,.. though I knew
The rebel's worth, his prowess then excited
Unwelcome wonder; even at the last,

When stiff with toil and faint with wounds, he raised
Feebly his broken sword, . . .

Then Madoc's grief

Found utterance; Wherefore, David, dost thou rouse

The memory now of that unhappy day,

That thou should'st wish to hide from earth and heaven?

Not in Aberfraw,. . not to me this tale!

Tell it the Saxon! . . he will join thy triumph,

He hates the race of Owen ! . . but I loved

My brother Hoel, loved him?

I was to him the dearest of his kin,

And he my own heart's brother.

that ye knew!

David's cheek

Grew pale and dark; he bent his broad black brow Full upon Madoc's glowing countenance;