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 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
The palace portal. Urien stopt and said,
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!
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!
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.
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.
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.
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.
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 the enemy
Their welcoming?
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,
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