Classic Poem

But while Aberfraw echoed to the sounds
Of merriment and music, Madoc's heart
Mourn'd for his brethren. Therefore, when no ear
Was nigh, he sought the King, and said to him,
To-morrow, for Mathraval I set forth;
Longer I must not linger here, to pass
The easy hours in feast and revelry,
Forgetful of my people far away.
I go to tell the tidings of success,
And seek new comrades. What if it should chance
That, for this enterprise, our brethren,
Foregoing all their hopes and fortunes here,
Would join my banner? — Let me send abroad
Their summons, O my brother! so, secure,
You may forgive the past, and once again
Will peace and concord bless our father's house.

Hereafter will be time enow for this,
The King replied; thy easy nature sees not,
How, if the traitors for thy banner send
Their bidding round, in open war against me
Their own would soon be spread. I charge thee, Madoc,
Neither to see nor aid these fugitives,
The shame of Owen's blood.
Sullen he spake,
And turn'd away; nor further commune now
Did Madoc seek, nor had he more endured;
For bitter thoughts were rising in his heart,
And anguish, kindling anger. In such mood
He to his sister's chamber took his way.
She sat with Emma, with the gentle Queen,
For Emma had already learnt to love
The gentle maid. Goervyl saw what thoughts
Troubled her brother's brow. Madoc, she cried,
Thou hast been with the King, been rashly pleading
For Ririd, and for Rodri! — He replied,
I did but ask him little, — did but say,
Belike our brethren would go forth with me,
To voluntary exile; then, methought,
His fear and jealousy might well have ceased,
And all be safe.
And did the King refuse?
Quoth Emma; I will plead for them, quoth she,
With dutiful warmth and zeal, will plead for them;
And surely David will not say me nay.

O sister! cried Goervyl, tempt him not!
Sister, you know him not! Alas, to touch
That perilous theme is, even in Madoc here,
A perilous folly. Sister, tempt him not!
You do not know the King!
But then a fea
Fled to the cheek of Emma, and her eye,
Quickening with wonder, turn'd toward the Prince,
As if expecting that his manly mind
Would mould Goervyl's meaning to a shape
Less fearful, would interpret and amend
The words she hoped she did not hear aright.
Emma was young; she was a sacrifice
To that cold king-craft, which, in marriage-vows
Linking two hearts, unknowing each of each,
Perverts the ordinance of God, and makes
The holiest tie a mockery and a curse.
Her eye was patient, and she spake in tones
So sweet, and of so pensive gentleness,
That the heart felt them. Madoc! she exclaimed,
Why dost thou hate the Saxons? O my brother,
If I have heard aright, the hour will come
When the Plantagenet shall wish herself
Among her nobler, happier countrymen,
From these unnatural enmities escaped,
And from the vengeance they must call from Heaven!

Shame then suffused the Prince's countenance,
Mindful how, drunk in anger, he had given
His hatred loose. My sister Queen, quoth he,
Marvel not you that with my mother's milk
I suck'd that hatred in. Have they not been
The scourge and the devouring sword of God,
The curse and pestilence which he hath sent
To root us from the land? Alas, our crimes
Have drawn this dolorous visitation down!
Our sun hath long been westering; and the night,
And darkness, and extinction are at hand.
We are a fallen people! — From ourselves
The desolation and the ruin come;
In our own vitals doth the poison work —
The House that is divided in itself,
How should it stand? — A blessing on you, Lady!
But in this wretched family the strife
Is rooted all too deep; it is an old
And cankered wound, — an eating, killing sore,
For which there is no healing. — If the King
Should ever speak his fears, (and sure to you
All his most inward thoughts he will make know
Counsel him then to let his brethren share
My enterprise, to send them forth with me
To everlasting exile. — She hath told you
Too hardly of the King; I know him well;
He hath a stormy nature; and what germs
Of virtue would have budded in his heart,
Cold winds have check'd, and blighting seasons nipp'd,
Yet in his heart they live. — A blessing on you,
That you may see their blossom and their fruit!