Now go your way, ye gallant company,
God and good Angels guard ye as ye go!
Blow fairly, Winds of Heaven! Ye Ocean Waves,
Swell not in anger to that fated fleet!
For not of conquest greedy nor of gold,
Seek they the distant world... Blow fairly, Winds! Waft, Waves of Ocean, well your blessed load !
Fair blew the Winds, and safely did the Waves
Bear that beloved charge. It were a tale
Would rouse adventurous courage in a boy,
Making him long to be a mariner
That he might rove the main, if I should tell
How pleasantly for many a summer-day,
Over the sunny sea with wind at will,
Prince Madoc sail'd; and of those happy Isles,
Which had he seen ere that appointed storm
Drove southward his slope course, there he had
His tent, and blest his lot that it had fallen
In land so fair; and human blood had reek'd
Daily on Aztlan's devilish altars still.
But other doom was his, more arduous toil
Yet to achieve, worse danger to endure,
Worse evil to be quell'd, and higher good
Which passeth not away educed from ill;
Whereof all unforeseeing, yet for all
Prepared at heart, he over ocean sails,
Wafted by gentle winds o'er gentle waves,
As if the elements combined to serve
The perfect Prince, by God and man beloved.
And now how joyfully he views the land,
Skirting like morning clouds the dusky sea;
With what a searching eye recals to mind
Foreland and creek and cape; how happy now
Up the great river bends at last his way!
No watchman had been station'd on the height
To seek his sails, . . for with Cadwallon's hope
Too much of doubt was blended and of fear:
Yet thitherward whene'er he walk'd abroad
His face, as if instinctively, was turn'd;
And duly morn and eve Lincoya there,
As though religion led his duteous feet,
Went up to gaze.
He on a staff had scored
The promised moons and days; and many a time Counting again its often-told account,
So to beguile impatience, day by day
Smooth'd off with more delight the daily notch.
But now that the appointed time was nigh,
Did that perpetual presence of his hope
Haunt him, and mingle with his sleep, and mar
The natural rest, and trouble him by day,
That all his pleasure was at earliest light
To take his station, and at latest eve,
If he might see the sails where far away
Through wide savannahs roll'd the silver stream.
Oh then with what a sudden start his blood
Flow'd from its quicken'd spring, when far away
He spied the glittering topsails! For a while
Distrustful of that happy sight, till now
Slowly he sees them rise, and wind along
Through wide savannahs up the silver stream.
Then with a breathless speed he flies to spread
The joy; and with Cadwallon now descends,
And drives adown the tide the light canoc.
And mounts the vessel-side, and once again
Falls at the Ocean Lord's beloved feet.
First of the general weal did Madoc ask;
Cadwallon answer'd, All as yet is well,
And, by this seasonable aid secured,
Will well remain... Thy father? quoth the Prince.
Even so, replied Cadwallon, as that eye
Of hesitation augurs, fallen asleep.
The good old man remember'd thee in death,
And blest thee ere he died.
And heights were throng'd; from hill to hill, from rock To rock, the shouts of welcome rung around. Forward they press to view the man beloved,
Britons and Hoamen with one common joy
Hailing their common friend. Happy that day
Was he who heard his name from Madoc's voice;
Happy who met the greeting of his eye;
Yea happy he who shared his general smile,
Amid the unacknowledged multitude.
Caermadoc,.. by that name Cadwallon's love
Call'd it in memory of the absent Prince,
Stood in a mountain vale, by rocks and heights,
A natural bulwark, girt. A rocky stream
Which from the fells came down there spread itself
Into a quiet lake, to compass which
Had been a two hours' pleasurable toil;
And he, who from a well-strung bow could send
His shaft across, had needs a sinewy arm,
And might from many an archer far and near
Have borne away the bell. Here had the Chief
Chosen his abiding place, for strength preferr'd,
Where vainly might an host in equal arms
Attempt the difficult entrance; and for all
That could delight the and heart of man;
Whate'er of beauty or of usefulness
Heart could desire, or eye behold, being here.
What he had found an idle wilderness
Now gave rich increase to the husbandmen,
For Heaven had blest their labour. Flourishing
He left the happy vale; and now he saw
More fields reclaim'd, more habitations rear'd,
More harvests rising round. The reptile race,
And every beast of rapine, had retired
From man's asserted empire; and the sound
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