FAIR blows the wind, . . the vessel drives along, Her streamers fluttering at their length, her sails All full,. she drives along, and round her prow
Scatters the ocean spray. What feelings then
Fill'd every bosom, when the mariners,
After the peril of that weary way,
Beheld their own dear country!
Stretching his sight toward the distant shore,
And as to well-known forms his busy joy
Shapes the dim outline, eagerly he points
The fancied headland and the cape and bay,
Till his eyes ache o'erstraining. This man shakes
His comrade's hand and bids him welcome home,
And blesses God, and then he weeps aloud :
Here stands another, who in secret prayer
Calls on the Virgin and his patron Saint,
Renewing his old vows of gifts and alms
And pilgrimage, so he may find all well.
Silent and thoughtful and apart from all
Stood Madoc; now his noble enterprize
Proudly remembering, now in dreams of hope,
Anon of bodings full and doubt and fear.
Fair smiled the evening, and the favouring gale
Sung in the shrouds, and swift the steady bark
Rush'd roaring through the waves.
Far off his light is on the naked crags
Of Penmanmawr, and Arvon's ancient hills;
And the last glory lingers yet awhile,
Crowning old Snowdon's venerable head,
That rose amid his mountains. Now the ship
Drew nigh where Mona, the dark island, stretch'd
Her shore along the ocean's lighter line.
There through the mist and twilight, many a fire
Up-flaming stream'd upon the level sea.
Red lines of lengthening light, which, far away
Rising and falling, flash'd athwart the waves.
Thereat full many a thought of ill disturb'd
Prince Madoc's mind;..did some new conqueror seize
The throne of David? had the tyrant's guilt
Awaken'd vengeance to the deed of death?
Or blazed they for a brother's obsequies,
The sport and mirth of murder? . . Like the lights
Which there upon Aberfraw's royal walls
Are waving with the wind, the painful doubt
Fluctuates within him... Onward drives the gale, . .
On flies the bark; . . and she hath reach'd at length
Her haven, safe from her unequall'd way!
And now, in louder and yet louder joy
Clamorous, the happy mariners all-hail
Their native shore, and now they leap to land.
There stood an old man on the beach to wait
The comers from the ocean; and he ask'd,
Is it the Prince? And Madoc knew his voice,
And turn'd to him and fell upon his neck;
For it was Urien who had foster'd him,
Had loved him like a child; and Madoc loved,
Even as a father loved he that old man.
My Sister? quoth the Prince... Oh, she and I
Have wept together, Madoc, for thy loss, . .
That long and cruel absence! .. She and I,
Hour after hour and day by day, have look'd
Toward the waters, and with aching eyes
And aching heart, sate watching every sail.
And David and our brethren? cried the Prince, As they moved on. . . But then old Urien's lips Were slow at answer; and he spake, and paused In the first breath of utterance, as to choose Fit words for uttering some unhappy tale.
More blood, quoth Madoc, yet? Hath David's fear
Forced him to still more cruelty?
Alas..
Woe for the house of Owen !
Replied the old man, ruled o'er thy brethren's birth,
From Dolwyddelan driven, his peaceful home,
Poor Yorwerth sought the church's sanctuary;
The murderer follow'd; . . Madoc, need I say
Who sent the sword? . . Llewelyn, his brave boy,
Where wanders he? in this his rightful realm,
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