But he is far away; and, should there come
The evil hour upon thee,-if thy kin,

Wearied by suffering and driven desperate,
Should lift the sword, or young Llewelyn raise
His banner, and demand his father's throne,—
Were it not trusting to a broken reed

To lean on England's aid? I urge thee not
For answer now; but sometimes, O my brother!
Sometimes recall to mind my parting words,
As 'twere the death-bed counsel of the friend
Who loved thee best!"

The affection of his voice,

So mild and solemn, softened David's heart:
He saw his brother's eyes, suffused with tears,
Shine in the moonbeam as he spake. The King
Remembered his departure, and he felt

Feelings which long from his disnatured breast
Ambition had expelled: he could almost

Have followed their strong impulse. From the shore,
Madoc with quick and agitated step

Had sought his home; the monarch went his way
Serious and slow, and laid him down that night
With painful recollections, and such thoughts
As might, if Heaven had willed it, have matured
To penitence and peace.

The day is come;
The adventurers in St. Cybi's holy fane
Hear the last Mass, and all assoiled of sin,
Partake the bread of Christian fellowship.
Then, as the Priest his benediction gave,
They knelt, in such an awful stillness hushed,
As with yet more oppression seemed to load
The burdened heart. At times, and half suppressed,
Womanly sobs were heard, and manly cheeks
Were wet with silent tears. Now forth they go,
And at the portal of the church unfurl

Prince Madoc's banner: at that sight, a shout
Burst from his followers, and the hills and rocks
Thrice echoed their acclaim.

There lie the ships,

Their sails all loose, their streamers rolling out
With sinuous flow and swell, like water-snakes,
Curling aloft; the waves are gay with boats-
Pinnace and barge and coracle; the sea

Swarms, like the shore, with life. Oh, what a sight
Of beauty for the spirit unconcerned,

If heart there be which unconcerned could view
A sight like this!—how yet more beautiful
For him whose soul can feel and understand
The solemn import! Yonder they embark-
Youth, beauty, valor, virtue, reverend age—
Some led by love of noble enterprise;
Others, who, desperate of their country's weal,
Fly from the impending yoke; all warm alike
With confidence and high heroic hope,
And all in one fraternal bond conjoined
By reverence to their Chief, the best beloved
That ever yet on hopeful enterprise
Led gallant army forth. He, even now
Lord of himself, by faith in God and love.
To man, subdues the feeling of this hour,
The bitterest of his being. At this time,
Pale, and with feverish eye, the King came up,
And led him somewhat from the throng apart,
Saying: "I sent at daybreak to release
Rodri from prison, meaning that with thee
He should depart in peace: but he was gone;
This

very night he had escaped. PerchanceAs I do hope it was thy doing, Madoc?

Is he aboard the fleet?"

Then should I sail away! Ririd is there
Alone; alas that this was done so late!
"Reproach me not!" half sullenly the King,
Answering, exclaimed; "Madoc, reproach me not!
Thou know'st how hardly I attained the throne;
And is it strange that I should guard with fear
The precious prize? Now, when I would have taken
Thy counsel, be the evil on his head!

Blame me not now, my brother, lest sometimes
I call again to mind thy parting words

In sorrow!"

"God be with thee!" Madoc cried;

"And if at times the harshness of a heart

Too prone to wrath have wronged thee, let these tears Efface all faults. I leave thee, O my brother!

With all a brother's feelings."

So he said,

And grasped, with trembling tenderness, his hand,
Then calmed himself, and moved toward the boat.
Emma, though tears would have their way and sighs
Would swell, suppressing still all words of woe,
Followed Goervyl to the extremest shore.
But then, as on the plank the maid set foot,
Did Emma, staying her by the hand, pluck out
The crucifix, which next her heart she wore
In reverence to its relic, and she cried :

"Yet, ere we part, change with me, dear Goervyl!
Dear sister! loved too well, or lost too soon!
I shall betake me often to my prayers—
Never in them, Goervyl, of thy name
Unmindful; thou, too, wilt remember me
Still in thine orisons. But God forefend
That ever misery should make thee find
This cross thy only comforter!”

She said,

And kissed the holy pledge, as each to each

Transferred the mutual gift. Nor could the maid
Answer, for agony, to that farewell:

She held Queen Emma to her breast, and close
She clasped her with a strong, convulsive sob,
Silently. Madoc, too, in silence went,
But pressed a kiss on Emma's lips, and left
His tears upon her cheek. With dizzy eyes,
Gazing she stood, now saw the boat push off.
The dashing of the oars awakened her :

She wipes her tears away, to view once more
Those dear familiar faces; they are dim
In the distance: never shall her waking eye
Behold them, till the hour of happiness,
When death hath made her pure for perfect bliss!

Two hearts alone of all that company,

Of all the thousands who beheld the scene,
Partook unmingled joy. Dumb with delight,
Young Hoel views the ships, and feels the boat
Rock on the heaving waves; and Llaian felt
Comfort-though sad, yet comfort-that for her
No eye was left to weep nor heart to mourn.

Hark! tis the mariners, with voice attuned,
Timing their toil; and now, with gentle gales,
Slow from the holy haven they depart.

XVIII.

RODRI.

Now hath the evening settled; the broad moon
Rolls through the rifted clouds. With gentle gales
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 meager man, severe of brow, his eye
Stern.

"Thou dost view me, Madoc," he exclaimed,

"As 'twere a stranger's face. I marvel not! The long afflictions of my prison-house

Have changed me."

"Rodri!" cried the Prince, and fell

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 so!"
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 lurked 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 turned
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.