The buckler strong to save; and then he shook
The lance, and grasp'd the sword, and turn'd to me
With vehement words and gestures, every limb
Working with one strong passion; and he placed
The falchion in my hand, and gave the shield,
And pointed south and west, that I should go
To conquer and protect; anon he wept
Aloud, and clasp'd my knees, and falling fain
He would have kiss'd my feet. Went we to shore?
Then would he labour restlessly to show
A better place lay onward; and in the sand,
To south and west he drew the line of coast,
And figured how a mighty river there
Ran to the sea. The land bent westward soon,
And thus confirm'd we voyaged on to seek
The river inlet, following at the will
Of our new friend: and we learnt after him,
Well pleased and proud to teach, what this was call'd
What that, with no unprofitable pains.
Nor light the joy I felt at hearing first
The pleasant accents of my native tongue,
Albeit in broken words and tones uncouth,
Come from these foreign lips.
At length we came
Where the great river, amid shoals and banks
And islands, growth of its own gathering spoils,
Through many a branching channel, wide and full,
Rush'd to the main. The gale was strong; and safe,
Amid the uproar of conflicting tides,
Our gallant vessels rode. A stream as broad
And turbid, when it leaves the Land of Hills,
Old Severn rolls; but banks so fair as these
Old Severn views not in his Land of Hills,
Nor even where his turbid waters swell
And sully the salt sea.
By shores now cover'd with impervious woods,
Now stretching wide and low, a reedy waste,
And now through vales where earth profusely pour'd
Her treasures, gather'd from the first of days.
Sometimes a savage tribe would welcome us,
By wonder from their lethargy of life
Awaken'd; then again we voyaged on
Through tracts all desolate, for days and days,
League after league, one green and fertile mead,
That fed a thousand herds.
Rose on our view, of mount on mountain piled,
Which when I see again in memory,
Star-gazing Idris's stupendous seat
Seems dwarf'd, and Snowdon with its eagle haunts Shrinks, and is dwindled like a Saxon hill.
Here with Cadwallon and a chosen band, I left the ships. Lincoya guided us A toilsome way among the heights; at dusk We reach'd the village skirts; he bade us halt, And raised his voice; the elders of the land Came forth, and led us to an ample hut, Which in the centre of their dwellings stood, The Stranger's House. They eyed us wondering, Yet not for wonder ceased they to observe
Their hospitable rites; from hut to hut
The tidings ran that strangers were arrived,
Fatigued and hungry and athirst; anon,
Each from his means supplying us, came food
And beverage such as cheers the weary man.
Ar morning their high-priest Ayayaca
Came with our guide: the venerable man
With reverential awe accosted us,
For we, he ween'd, were children of a race
Mightier than they, and wiser, and by heaven
Beloved and favour'd more: he came to give
Fit welcome, and he led us to the Queen.
The fate of war had reft her of her realm;
Yet with affection and habitual awe,
And old remembrances, which gave their love
A deeper and religious character,
Fallen as she was, and humbled as they were,
Her faithful people still in all they could
Obey'd Erillyab. She too in her mind
Those recollections cherish'd, and such thoughts
As, though no hope allay'd their bitterness,
Gave to her eye a spirit and a strength,
And pride to features which belike had borne,
Had they been fashion'd by a happier fate,
Meaning more gentle and more womanly,
Yet not more worthy of esteem and love.
She sate upon the threshold of her hut ;
For in the palace where her sires had reign'd
The conqueror dwelt. Her son was at her side,
A boy now near to manhood; by the door,
Bare of its bark, the head and branches shorn,
Stood a young tree with many a weapon hung,
Her husband's war-pole, and his monument.
There had his quiver moulder'd, his stone-axe
Had there grown green with moss, his bow-string there
Sung as it cut the wind.
With a proud sorrow in her mien; fresh fruits
Were spread before us, and her gestures said
That when he lived whose hand was wont to wield that in better days,.. that ere
She let the tresses of her widowhood
Grow wild, she could have given to guests like us
A worthier welcome. Soon a man approach'd,
Hooded with sable, his half-naked limbs
Smear'd black; the people at his sight drew round,
The women wail'd and wept, the children turn'd
And hid their faces on their mothers' knees.
He to the Queen addrest his speech, then look'd
Around the children, and laid hands on two,
Of different sexes but of age alike,
Some six years each, who at his touch shriek'd out.
But then Lincoya rose, and to my feet
Led them, and told me that the conquerors claim'd
These innocents for tribute; that the Priest
Would lay them on the altar of his god,
Pluck out their little hearts in sacrifice,
And with his brotherhood in impious rites
Feast on their flesh!..I shudder'd, and my hand
Instinctively unsheathed the avenging sword,
As he with passionate and eloquent signs,
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