Part II, Madoc in Aztlan: I

Now go your way, ye gallant company!
God and good Angels guard ye as ye go!
Blow fairly, Winds of Heaven! ye Ocean Waves,
Swell not in anger to that fated fleet !
For not of conquest greedy, nor of gold,
Seek they the distant world. .. Blow fairly, Winds !
Waft, Waves of Ocean, well your blessed load !

Fair blew the Winds, and safely did the Waves
Bear that beloved charge. It were a tale
Would rouse adventurous courage in a boy,
Making him long to be a mariner,
That he might rove the main, if I should tell
How pleasantly, for many a summer-day,
Over the sunny sea, with wind at will,
Prince Madoc sailed ; and of those happy Isles,
Which had he seen ere that ordained storm
Drove southward his slope course, there he had pitched
His tent, and blest his lot that it had fallen
In land so fair; and human blood had reeked .
Daily on Aztlan's cursed altars still.
But other doom was his, more arduous toil
Yet to atchieve, worse danger to endure,
Worse evil to be quelled, and higher good,
That passes not away, educed from ill;
Whereof all unforeseeing, yet for all
Of ready heart, he over ocean sails,
Wafted by gentle winds o'er gentle waves,
As if the elements combined to serve
The perfect Prince, by God and man beloved
And now how joyfully he views the land,
Skirting, like morning clouds, the dusky sea; .
With what a searching eye recals to mind
Foreland, and creek, and cape ; how happy now
Vp Up the great river bends at last his way!

No watchman had been stationed on the height
To seek his sails, . . for with Cadwallon's hope
Too much of doubt was blended, and of fear ;
Yet thitherward, whene'er he walked abroad,
His face, as if instinctively, was turned ;
And duly morn and eve, Lincoya there,
As if religion led his duteous feet,
Went up to gaze. He on a staff had scored
The promised moons and days; and many a time,
Counting again its often-told account,
So to beguile impatience, day by day
Smoothed off with more delight the daily notch.
But now that the appointed time was nigh,
Did that perpetual presence of his hope
Haunt him, and mingle with his sleep, and mar
The natural rest, and trouble him by day,
That all his pleasure was at earliest light
To take his station, and at latest eve,
If he might see the sails, where far away
Through wide savannahs rolled the silver stream.
Oh then, with what a sudden start his blood
Flowed from its quickened spring, when far away
He spied the glittering topsails! for a while
Distrustful of that happy sight, till now
Slowly he sees them rise, and wind along,
Through wide savannahs, up the silver stream.
Then with a breathless speed he flies to spread :
The joy ; and with Cadwallon now descends,
And drives adown the tide the light canoe,
And mounts the vessel-side, and once again
Falls at the Ocean Lord's beloved feet.

First of the general weal did Madoc ask ;
Cadwallon answered, All as yet is well,
And, by this seasonable aid secured,
Will well remain. ..Thy father? quoth the Prince.
Even so, replied Cadwallon, as that eye
Of hesitation augurs, . . fallen asleep.
The good old man remembered thee in death,
And blest thee ere he died.

By this the shores
And heights were thronged; from hill to hill, from rock
To rock, the shouts of welcome rung around.
Forward they press, to view the man beloved,
Britons and Hoamen with one common joy
Hailing their common friend. Happy, that day,
Was he who heard his name from Madoc's voice ;
Happy who met the greeting of his eye ;
Yea, happy he who shared his general smile,
Amid the unacknowledged multitude.

Caermadoc, . . by that name Cadwallon's love
Called it; in memory of the absent Prince, . .
Stood in a mountain vale, by rocks and heights,
A natural bulwark, girt. A rocky stream
Which from the fells came down, there spread itself
Into a quiet lake, to compass which
Had been a two hours pleasurable toil ;
And he who from a well-strung bow could send .
His shaft across, had needs a sinewy arm,
And might from many an archer, far and near,
Have borne away the bell. Here had the Chief
Chosen his abiding place, for strength preferred,
Where vainly might an host in equal arms
Attempt the difficult entrance ; and for all
Which could delight the eye and heart of man ;
Whate'er of beauty or of usefulness
Heart could desire, or eye behold, being here.
What he had found an idle wilderness -
Now gave rich increase to the husbandman,
For Heaven had blest their labour. Flourishing
He left the happy vale; and now he saw
More fields reclaimed, more habitations reared,
More harvests rising round. The reptile race,
And every beast of rapine, had retired
From man's asserted empire ; and the sound
Of axe, and dashing oar, and fisher's net,
And song beguiling toil, and pastoral pipe,
Were heard, where late the solitary hills
Gave only to the mountain cataract
Their wild response.

Here, Urien, cried the Prince,
These craggy heights and overhanging groves
Will make thee think of Gwyneth. And this hut,
Rejoined Cadwallon, with its roof of reeds,
Goervyl, is our palace: it was reared
With lighter labour than Aberfraw's towers ;
Yet, Lady, safer are its wattled sides
Than Mona's kingly walls. .. Like Gwyneth, said he?
Oh od we neighbour nearer to the Sun,
And with a more benignant eye the Lord
Of Light beholds us here.

So thus did they
Cheerfully welcome to their new abode
These, who albeit aweary of their way,
And glad to reach at length the place of rest,
Felt their hearts overburthened, and their eyes
Ready to overflow. Yet not the less
The buzz of busy joy was heard around,
Where every dwelling had its guest, and all
Gave the long eve to hospitable mirth.