Classic Poem

Soon as the coming of the fleet was known,
Had Queen Erillyab sent her hunters forth.
They from the forest now arrive, with store
Of venison; fires are built before the tents,
Where Llaian and Goervyl for their guests
Direct the feast; and now the ready board
With grateful odor steams. But while they sat
At meat, did Amalahta many a time
Taft his slow eye askance, and eagerly
Gaze on Goervyl's beauty; for whate'er
In man he might have thought deformed or strange
Seemed beautiful in her, — her golden curls,
Bright eyes of heavenly blue, and that clear skin,
Blooming with health, and youth, and happiness.
He, lightly yielding to the impulse, bent
His head aside, and to Erillyab spake;
Mother, said he, tell them to give to me
That woman for my wife, that we may be
Brethren and friends. She, in the same low tone,
Rebuked him, in her heart too well aware
How far unworthy he. Abash'd thereby,
As he not yet had wholly shaken off
Habitual reverence, he sat sullenly,
Brooding in silence his imagined wiles,
By sight of beauty made more apt for ill;
For he himself being evil, good in him
Work'd evil.
And now Madoc, pouring forth
The ripe metheglin, to Erillyab gave
The horn of silver brim. Taste, Queen and friend,
Said he, what from our father-land we bring,
The old beloved beverage. Sparingly
Drink, for it hath a strength to stir the brain,
And trouble reason, if intemperate lips
Abuse its potency. She took the horn,
And sipp'd with wary wisdom. — Canst thou teach us
The art of this rare beverage? quoth the Queen,
Or is the gift reserved for ye alone,
By the Great Spirit, who hath favor'd ye
In all things above us? — The Chief replied,
All that we know of useful and of good
Ye also shall be taught, that we may be
One people. While he spake, Erillyab past
The horn to Amalahta. Sparingly!
Madoc exclaim'd; but when the savage felt
The luscious flavor, and the poignant life,
He heeded nought beyond the immediate joy.
Deep did he drink, and still with clinching hands
Struggled, when from his lips, unsatisfied,
Erillyab pluck'd the horn with sharp reproof,
Chiding his stubborn wilfulness. Erelong
The generous liquor flush'd him: he could feel
His blood play faster, and the joyful dance
Of animal life within him. Bolder grown,
He at Goervyl lifts no longer now
The secret glance, but gloats with greedy eye;
Till, at the long and loathsome look abash'd,
She rose, and nearer to her brother drew,
On light pretence of speech, being half in fear.
But he, regardless of Erillyab now,
To Madoc cried aloud, Thou art a King,
And I a King! — Give me thy sister there,
To be my wife, and then we will be friends,
And reign together.
Let me answer him,
Madoc! Cadwallon cried. I better know
Their language, and will set aside all hope,
Yet not incense the savage. — A great thing,
Prince Amalahta, hast thou ask'd! said he.
Nor is it in Lord Madoc's power to give,
Or to withhold; for marriage is with us
The holiest ordinance of God, whereon
The bliss or bane of human life depends.
Love must be won by love, and heart to heart
Link'd in mysterious sympathy, before
We pledge the marriage-vow; and some there are,
Who hold, that, e'er we enter into life,
Soul hath with soul been mated, each for each
Especially ordain'd. Prince Madoc's will
Avails not, therefore, where this secret bond
Hath not been framed in Heaven.
The skilful speech
Which, with wild faith and reason, thus confirm'd,
Yet temper'd the denial, for a while
Silenced him, and he sat in moody dreams
Of snares and violence. Soon a drunken thirst,
And longing for the luscious beverage,
Drove those dark thoughts aside. More drink! quoth he.
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!
But ye shall find us true!
Give him the horn!
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 clinch'd the horn, and swill'd
The sweet intoxication copious down.
So bad grew worse. The potent draught provoked
Fierce pride and savage insolence. Ay! 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 Gods
Of Aztlan and the people call for blood;
They call on me, and I will give them blood,
Till they have had their fill.
Meanwhile the Queen
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. Give him drink,
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 hath 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.
Erillyab cast
A look of anger, made intense by grief,
On Amalahta. — Cursed be the hour
Wherein I gave thee birth! she cried; that part
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 gone,
Sufferance wellnigh worn out.
When she had cease
Still the deep feeling fill'd her, and her eye
Dwelt on him, still in thought. Brother! she crie
As Madoc would have soothed her, doubt not in
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.