Give me the drink!.. Madoc again repeats
His warning, and again with look and voice
Erillyab chides; but he of all restraint
Impatient, cries aloud, Am I a child?
Give! give! or I will take!... Perchance ye think I and my God alike cry out in vain !
Cadwallon answer'd; there will come upon him
Folly and sleep, and then an after pain,
Which may bring wisdom with it, if he learn
Therefrom to heed our warning... As thou say'st,
No child art thou!.. the choice is in thy hand; .
Drink, if thou wilt, and suffer, and in pain
Remember us.
He clench'd the horn, and swill'd
The sweet intoxication copious down.
So bad grew worse. The potent draught provoked
Fierce pride and savage insolence. Aye! now
It seems that I have taught ye who I am!
The inebriate wretch exclaim'd. This land is mine,
Not hers; the kingdom and the power are mine;
I am the master !
Hath it made thee mad?
Erillyab cried... Ask thou the Snake-God that!
Quoth he; ask Neolin and Aztlan that!
Hear me, thou Son of the Waters! wilt thou have me For friend or foe?... Give me that woman there,
And store me with this blessed beverage,
And thou shalt dwell in my domains, . . or else,
Blood! blood! The Snake-God calls for blood; the
Of Aztlan and the people call for blood;
They call on me, and I will give them blood,
Till they have had their fill.
In wonder and amazement heard and grief;
Watching the fiendish workings of his face,
And turning to the Prince at times, as if
She look'd to him for comfort.
To be at peace! quoth Madoc. The good mead
Did its good office soon; his dizzy eyes
Roll'd with a sleepy swim; the joyous thrill
Died away; and as every limb relax'd,
Down sunk his heavy head and down he fell.
Then said the Prince, We must rejoice in this,
O Queen and friend, that, evil though it be,
Evil is brought to light; he hath divulged
In this mad mood, what else had been conceal'd
By guilty cunning. Set a watch upon him.
And on Priest Neolin; they plot against us;
Your fall and mine do they alike conspire,
Being leagued with Aztlan to destroy us both.
Thy son will not remember that his lips
Have let the treason pass. Be wary then,
And we shall catch the crafty in the pit
Which they have dug for us.
A look of anger, made intense by grief,
On Amalahta. . . Cursed be the hour
Wherein I gave thee birth! she cried; that pain
Was light to what thy base and brutal nature
Hath sent into my soul... But take thou heed!
I have borne many a woe and many a loss, . .
My father's realm, the husband of my youth,
My hope in thee! .
all motherly love is
Sufferance well nigh worn out.
When she had ceased,
Still the deep feeling fill'd her, and her eye
Dwelt on him, still in thought. Brother! she cried As Madoc would have soothed her, doubt not me! Mine is no feeble heart. Abundantly
Did the Great Spirit overpay all woes,
And this the heaviest, when he sent thee here,
The friend and the deliverer. Evil tongues
May scatter lies; bad spirits and bad men
May league against thy life; but go thou on,
Brother! He loves thee and will be thy shield.
THIS is the day, when, in a foreign grave,
King Owen's relics shall be laid to rest.
No bright emblazonries bedeck'd his bier,
No tapers blazed, no prelate sung the mass,
No choristers the funeral dirge intoned,
No mitred abbots, and no tonsured train,
Lengthen'd the pomp of ceremonious woe.
His decent bier was with white linen spread
And canopied; two elks and bisons yoked,
Drew on the car; foremost Cadwallon bore
The Crucifix; with single voice distinct,
The good priest Llorien chaunted loud and deep
The solemn service; Madoc next the bier
Follow'd his father's corpse; bareheaded then
Came all the people, silently and slow.
The burial-place was in a grassy plat, A little level glade of sunny green, Between the river and a rocky bank,' Which, like a buttress, from the precipice Of naked rock sloped out. On either side 'Twas skirted by the woodlands. A stone cross Stood on Cynetha's grave, sole monument, Beneath a single cocoa, whose straight trunk
Rose like an obelisk, and waved on high
Its palmy plumage, green and never sere.
Here by Cynetha's side, with Christian prayers,
All wrongs forgotten now, was Owen laid.
Rest, King of Gwyneth, in a foreign grave!
From foul indignity of Romish pride
And bigot priesthood, from a falling land
Thus timely snatch'd, and from the impending yoke,.. Rest in the kingdom of thy noble son!
Ambassadors from Aztlan in the vale Awaited their return, Yuhidthiton,
Chief of the Chiefs, and Helhua the priest ;
With these came Malinal. They met the Prince,
And with a sullen stateliness return'd
His salutation, then the Chief began;
Lord of the Strangers, hear me! by my voice
The People and the Pabas and the King
Of Aztlan speak. Our injured Gods have claim'd
Their wonted worship, and made manifest
Their wrath; we dare not impiously provoke
The Dreadful. Worship ye in your own way;
But we must keep the path our fathers kept.
We parted, O Yuhidthiton! as friends And brethren, said the Christian Prince; That this should be our meeting! When we pledged, In the broad daylight and the eye of Heaven, Our hands in peace, ye heard the will of God, And felt and understood. This calm assent Ye would belie, by midnight miracles Scared, and such signs of darkness as beseem
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