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.

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 eye 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

Of axe and dashing oar, and fisher's net,

And song beguiling toil, and pastoral pipe,
Were heard, where late the solitary hills
Gave only to the mountain-cataract

Their wild response.

Here, Urien, cried the Prince,

These craggy heights and overhanging groves

Will make thee think of Gwyneth. And this hut,
Rejoin'd Cadwallon, with its roof of reeds,
Goervyl, is our palace: it was built

With lighter labour than Aberfraw's towers;
Yet, Lady, safer are its wattled sides

Than Mona's kingly walls... Like Gwyneth, said he?
Oh no! we neighbour nearer to the Sun,

And with a more benignant eye the Lord

Of Light beholds us here.

So thus did they
Cheerfully welcome to their new abode
These, who albeit aweary of their way,

And glad to reach at length the place of rest,
Felt their hearts overburthen'd, and their eyes
Ready to overflow. Yet not the less'
The buzz of busy joy was heard around,
Where every dwelling had its guest, and all
Gave the long eve to hospitable mirth.

II.

THE TIDINGS.

BUT when the Lord of Ocean from the stir

And tumult was retired, Cadwallon then

Thus render'd his account.

When we had quell'd

The strength of Aztlan, we should have thrown down

Her altars, cast her Idols to the fire,

And on the ruins of her fanes accurst

Planted the Cross triumphant. Vain it is

To sow the seed where noxious weeds and briars Must choke it in the growth.

Yet I had hope
The purer influence of exampled good
Might to the saving knowledge of the truth
Lead this bedarken'd race; and when thy ship
Fell down the stream to distant Britain bound,
All promised well. The strangers' God had proved
Mightier in war; and Aztlan could not choose
But see, nor seeing could she fail to love,
The freedom of his service. Few were now
The offerings at her altars, few the youths
And virgins to the temple-toils devote.

Therefore the Priests combined to save their craft;
And soon the rumour ran of evil signs
And tokens; in the temple had been heard

Wailings and loud lament; the eternal fire

Gave dismally a dim and doubtful flame;

And from the censer, which at morn should steam Sweet odours to the sun, a fetid cloud

Black and portentous rose. And now no Priest
Approach'd our dwelling. Even the friendly Prince
Yuhidthiton was at Caermadoc now

Rarely a guest; and if that tried good-will
Which once he bore us did at times appear,
A sullen gloom and silence like remorse
Followed the imagined crime.

But I the while

Reck'd not the brooding of the storm; for then
My father to the grave was hastening down.
Patiently did the pious man endure,

In faith anticipating blessedness,

Already more than man in those sad hours
When man is meanest. I sate by his side,

And pray'd with him and talk'd with him of death
And life to come. O Madoc! those were hours
Which even in anguish gave my soul a joy :
I think of them in solitude, and feel

The comfort of my faith.

But when that time

Of bitterness was past and I return'd
To daily duties, no suspicious sign
Betoken'd ill; the Priests among us came
As heretofore, and I their intercourse
Encouraged as I could, suspecting nought,
Nor conscious of the subtle-minded men
I dealt with, how inveterate in revenge,
How patient in deceit. Lincoya first

He, thou know'st,

Forewarn'd me of the danger.
Had from the death of sacrifice escaped,
And lived a slave among a distant tribe,
When seeing us he felt a hope, that we,
Lords as he deem'd us of the Elements,
Might pity his poor countrymen opprest,

And free them from their bondage. Didst thou hear
How from yon bloody altars he was saved?

For in the eternal chain his fate and ours

Were link'd together then.

The Prince replied, I did but hear a broken tale. Tell on !

Among the Gods of yon unhappy race,
Tezcalipoca as the chief they rank,
Or with the chief co-equal; Maker he,
And Master of created things esteem'd.
He sits upon a throne of trophied skulls,
Hideous and huge; a shield is on his arm,
And with his black right hand he lifts, as though
In wrath, the menacing spear. His festival,
Of all this wicked nation's wicked rites,
With most solemnity and circumstance
And pomp of hellish piety, is held.

From all whom evil fortune hath subdued
To their inhuman thraldom, they select
Him whom they judge, for comely countenance
And shapely form and all good natural gifts,
Worthiest to be the victim; and for this
Was young Lincoya chosen, being in truth
The flower of all his nation. For twelve months,
Their custom is, that this appointed youth