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PRINCE HOEL'S CHILD.

From Southey's Madoc.

A little way

Now had prince Madoc left the holy isle, And homeward to Aberfraw, through the wilds Of Arvon, bent his course. le turned aside, by natural impulses loved, to behold Cadwalon's lonely hut; Chat lonely dwelling stood among the hills, By a grey mountain-stream ; just elevate Above the winter torrents did it stand, Jpon a craggy bank; an orchard slope Irose behind, and joyous was the scene, n early summer, when those antic trees hone with their blushing blossoms, and the flax Twinkled beneath the breeze its liveliest green. But, save the flax fields, and that orchard slope, Ol else was desolate, and now all wore )ne sober hue; the narrow vale which wound imong the hills, was grey with rocks, that peer'd Ibove its shallow soil; the mountain side Vas loose with stones bestrewn, which, oftentimes liding beneath the foot of straggling goat, latter'd adown the steep, or huger crags, Phich, when the coming frost should loosen them, Vould thunder down. All things assorted well Vith that grey mountain hue : the low stone lines, Thich scarcely seem'd to be the work of man, he dwelling, rudely rear’d with stones uphewn, be stubble fax, the crooked apple trees, rey with their fleecy moss and misletoe, he white-bark'd birch, now leafless, and the ash, 'hose knotted roots were like the rifted rock,

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Through which they forced their way. Adown the vale
Broken by stones, and o’er a stony bed,
Roll’d the loud mountain stream.

When Madoc came,
A little child was sporting by the brook,
Floating the fallen leaves, that he might see them
Whirl in the eddy now, and now be driven
Down the descent, now on the smoother stream
Sail onward, far away. But when he heard
The horse's tramp, he raised his head, and watched
The prince, who now dismounted, and drew nigh.
The little boy still fix'd his eyes on him,
His bright blue eyes; the wind just moved the curls
That cluster'd round his brow; and so he stood,
His rosy cheeks still lifted up to gaze,
In innocent wonder. Madoc took his hand,
And now had asked his name, and if he dwelt
There, in that hut, when from the cottage door,
A woman came, who, seeing Madoc, stopp'd
With such a fear-for she had cause for fear--
As when a bird, returning to her nest,
Turns to a tree beside, if she behold
Some prying boy too near the dear retreat.
How beit, advancing soon, she now approach'd
The approaching prince, and timidly enquired,
If, on his wayfare, he had lost the track,
That thither he had stray'd. “Not so," replied
The gentle prince; “but having known this place,
And its old inhabitants, I came once more
To view the lonely hut among the hills.
Hath it been long your dwelling ?”

66 Some few year Here we have dwelt,” quoth she, “my child and I, Will it please you enter, and partake such fare As we can give ?” still timidly she spake ; But gathering courage from the gentle mien Of him with whom she conversed. Madoc thank'd The friendly proffer, and toward the hut

They went, and in his arms he took the boy.
* Who is his father?” said ihe prince, but wish'd
The word unutter'd; for thereat her cheek
Was Aush'd with sudden heat, and manifest pain ;
And she replied, “ He perish'd in the war.”
They entered now her house ; she spread the board,
Bringing fresh curds, and cheese like curds so white,
The orchard fruits, and what beverage
Her bees, who now were slumbering in the hive,
Had toil'd to purvey all the summer long.
- Three years," said Madoc,“have gone by, since here,
I found a timely welcome, overworn
With toil, and sorrow, and sickness-three long years!
'Twas when the battle had been waged hard by,
Upon the plain of Arvon.”

She grew pale,
Suddenly pale; and seeing that he mark'd
C'he change, she told him, with a feeble voice,
That was the fatal fight that widow'd her.
- Oh Christ !” cried Madoc, 'tis a grief to think
How many a gallant Briton died that day,
[n that accursed strife! I trod the field
When all was over-I beheld them hea p'd-
A ye, like ripe coin within the reaper's reach,
strewn round the bloody spot where Hoel lay;
Brave as he was, himself cut down at last,
ppress'd by numbers, gash'd with wounds, yet still
Clenching, in his dead hand, the broken sword !
But you are moved-you weep at what I tell.
Forgive me, that, renewing my own grief,

should have waken’d yours! Did you then know Prince Hoel ?"

She replied, “ Oh no! my lot Vas humble, and my loss a humble ene; 'et was it all to me! They say,“ quoth she, -ad as she spake, she struggled to bring forth Tith painful voice, the interrupted words-

“ They say prince Hoel's body was not found;
But you, who saw him dead, perchance can tell
Where he was laid, and by what friendly hand."
" Even where he fell," said Madoc, “is his grave,
For he who buried him was one whose faith
Reck'd not of boughten prayers, nor passing bell.
There is a hawthorn grows beside the place,
A solitary tree, nipt by the winds,
That it doth seem a fitting monument
For one untimely slain-but wherefore dwell we
On this ungrateful scene?”.

He took a harp
Which stood beside, and passing o'er its chords,
Made music. At the touch the child drew nigh,
Pleased by the sounds, and leant on Madoc's knee,
And bade him play again: so Madoc played,
For he had skill in minstrelsy, and raised
His voice, and sung

Prince Hoel's lay of love.
6 I have harness'd thee, my steed of shining grey,
And thou shalt bear me to the dear white walls-
I love the white walls by the verdant bank,
That glitter in the sun, where bashfulness
Watches the silver sea-mew sail along.
I love that glittering dwelling, where we hear
The ever-sounding waves; for there she dwells,
The shapely maid, fair as the ocean spray,
Her cheek as lovely as the apple-flower,
Or summer's evening glow. I pine for her ;
And happiness is gone, and health is lost,
And fled the flush of youth, and I am pale
As the pale ocean on a sunless morn.
I pine away for her, yet pity her,
That she should spurn a love so true as mine."
He ceased, and laid his hand upon the child,-
" And didst thou like the song ?” The child replied

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1; Oh yes! it is a song my mother loves,
ell And so I love it too." He stoop’d, and kiss'd
" The boy, who still was leaning on his knee,
care. Already grown familiar. “ I should like

To take thee with me," quoth ihe ocean lord,
1. Over the seas."

Thou art prince Madoc then!" The mother cried,-“ thou art indeed the prince !

That song—that look !”—and at his feet she fell, we Panting-Oh take him, Madoc! save the child !

Thy brother Hoel's orphan!"

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Det

OWEN GWYNETH.

By S. R. Jackson. 1

Henry II. taking advantage of the dissention among the Welsh eF, princes, in the year 1157, the third of his reign, collected a very

formidable army, determined on the subjugation of the Principality. He encamped his forces at Saltney Marsh, in Flintshire. Owen Gwyneth, prince of North Wales, with his usual activity, took post at Basingwerk, near Holywell, and waited the approach of the English. A chosen body of troops, commanded by several barons of distinction, were sent to tempt Owen to a general action. The party, passing through the broken country of Coed Eulo, were rigorously assaulted by the two sons of Owen, and the English led in great disorder and with much slaughter to the main body of

Alarmed at the danger, and mortified by the disgrace, Henry broke up his camp, and marched along the sea shore to the own of Flint, with a view of penetrating into the interior of the ountry; but in passing through a long and narrow defile at Counyllt, he was intercepted hy Owen, who permitted him to enter, un. Bolested, into the strait, when, cutting off his retreat, the Welsh ushed upon their foes with terrible outcries, from the woods, ssaulting them most vigorously. Struck with dismay, and enumbered with heavy armour, the English were again thrown into

be utmost disorder, and a dreadful carnage ensued. Eustace de jer Fitzjohn and Robert de Courcy, with many noblemen of distinction,

he army.

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