Classic Poem

Now hath the evening settled, the broad Moan
Rolls through the rifted clouds. With gentle
Slowly they glide along, when they behold
A boat with press of sail and stress of oar
Speed forward to the fleet; and now, arrived
Beside the Chieftain's vessel, one inquires
If Madoc be aboard. The answer given,
Swift he ascended up the lofty side.
With joyful wonder did the Ocean Lord
Again behold Llewelyn; but he gazed
Doubtfully on his comrade's countenance,
A meagre man, severe of brow, his eye
Stern. Thou dost view me, Madoc, he exclaim
As 'twere a stranger's face. I marvel not
The long afflictions of my prison-house
Have changed me.
Rodri! cried the Prince, and
Upon his neck; — last night, subdued at length
By my solicitations, did the King
Send to deliver thee, that thou shouldst share
My happy enterprise; — and thou art come,
Even to my wish!
Nay, Madoc, nay, not
He answered, with a stern and bitter smile
This gallant boy hath given me liberty,
And I will pay him with his father's throne;
Ay, by my father's soul! — Last night we fled
The house of bondage, and in the sea-caves
By day we lurk'd securely. Here I come,
Only to see thee once before I die,
And say farewell, — dear brother!
Would to God
This purpose could be changed! the Sea Lord cried;
But thou art roused by wrongs, and who shall tame
That lion heart? — This only, if your lot
Fall favorable, will I beseech of ye,
That to his Queen, the fair Plantagenet,
All honorable humanity ye show,
For her own virtue, and in gratitude,
As she hath pleaded for you, and hath urged
Her husband on your part, till it hath turn'd
His wrath upon herself. Oh! deal ye by her
As by your dearest sister in distress,
For even so dear is she to Madoc's heart:
And now I know she from Aberfraw's tower
Watcheth these specks upon the moonlight sea,
And weeps for my departure, and for me
Sends up her prayers to Heaven, nor thinks that now
I must make mine to man in her behalf!

Quoth Rodri, Rest assured for her. I swear,
By our dead mother, so to deal with her
As thou thyself wouldst dictate, as herself
Shall wish.
The tears fell fast from Madoc's eyes;
O Britain! O my country! he exclaim'd,
For ever thus by civil strife convulsed,
Thy children's blood flowing to satisfy
Thy children's rage, how wilt thou still support
The struggle with the Saxon?
Rodri cried,
Our strife shall not be long. Mona will rise
With joy, to welcome me, her rightful Lord;
And woe be to the King who rules by fear,
When danger comes against him!
Fear not thou
For Britain! quoth Llewelyn; for not yet
The country of our fathers shall resign
Her name among the nations. Though her Sun
Slope from his eminence, the voice of man
May yet arrest him on his downward way.
My dreams by day, my visions in the night,
Are of her welfare. I shall mount the throne, —
Yes, Madoc! and the Bard of years to come,
Who harps of Arthur's and of Owen's deeds,
Shall with the Worthies of his country rank
Llewelyn's name. Dear Uncle, fare thee well! —
And I almost could wish I had been born
Of humbler lot, that I might follow thee,
Companion of this noble enterprise.
Think of Llewelyn often, who will oft
Remember thee in love!
For the last time
He press'd his Uncle's hand, and Rodri gave
The last farewell; then went the twain their way.

So over ocean through the moonlight waves,
Prince Madoc sail'd with all his company.
No nobler crew filled that heroic bark,
Which bore the first adventurers of the deep
To seek the Golden Fleece on barbarous shores:
Nor richlier fraught did that illustrious fleet
Home to the Happy Island hold its way,
When Amadis, with his prime chivalry,
He of all chivalry himself the flower,
Came from the rescue, proud of Roman spoils,
And Oriana, freed from Roman thrall.