From "Madoc in Wales"

MADOC'S VOYAGE TO THE NEW World

NOT with a heart unmoved I left thy shores,
Dear native isle! oh . . . not without a pang,
As thy fair uplands lessen'd on the view,
Cast back the long involuntary look!
That morning cheer'd our outset ; gentle airs
Curl'd the blue deep, and bright the summer sun
Play'd o'er the summer ocean, when our barks
Began their way.

And they were gallant barks,
As ever through the raging billows rode;
And many a tempest's buffeting they bore.
Their sails all swelling with the eastern breeze,
Their tighten'd cordage clattering to the mast,
Steady they rode the main the gale aloft
Sung in the shrouds, the sparkling waters hiss'd
Before, and froth'd and whiten'd far behind.
Day after day, with one auspicious wind,
Right to the setting sun we held our course.
My hope had kindled every heart; they blest
The unvarying breeze, whose unabating strength

Still sped us onward; and they said that Heaven
Favour'd the bold emprize.

How many a time,
Mounting the mast-tower-top, with eager ken
They gazed, and fancied in the distant sky
Their promised shore, beneath the evening cloud,
Or seen, low lying, through the haze of morn.
I too with eyes as anxious watch'd the waves,
Though patient, and prepared for long delay;
For not on wild adventure had I rush'd
With giddy speed, in some delirious fit
Of fancy; but in many a tranquil hour

Weigh'd well the attempt, till hope matured to faith.

Day after day, day after day the same,
A weary waste of waters! still the breeze
Hung heavy in our sails, and we held on
One even course: a second week was gone,
And now another past, and still the same,
Waves beyond waves, the interminable sea!
What marvel, if at length the mariners

Grew sick with long expectance? I beheld
Dark looks of growing restlessness, I heard
Distrust's low murmurings; nor avail'd it long
To see and not perceive. Shame had awhile
Represt their fear, till like a smother'd fire
It burst, and spread with quick contagion round,
And strengthen'd as it spread. They spake in tones

Which might not be mistaken;

They had done

What men dared do, ventured where never keel
Had cut the deep before: still all was sea,
The same unbounded ocean! . . to proceed
Were tempting heaven.

I heard with feign'd surprise,

And, pointing then to where our fellow bark,

Gay with her fluttering streamers and full sails,
Rode, as in triumph, o'er the element,

I ask'd them what their comrades there would deem
Of those so bold ashore, who, when a day,
Perchance an hour might crown their glorious toil,
Shrunk then, and coward-like return'd to meet
Mockery and shame? True, they had ventured on
In seas unknown, beyond where ever man
Had plough'd the billows yet more reason so
Why they should now, like him whose happy speed
Well nigh hath run the race, with higher hope
Press onward to the prize. But late they said,
Marking the favour of the

steady gale,

That Heaven was with us; Heaven vouchsafed us still
Fair seas and favouring skies: nor need we pray
For other aid, the rest was in ourselves;

Nature had given it, when she gave to man

Courage and constancy.

They answer'd not,

Awhile obedient; but I saw with dread

The silent sullenness of cold assent.

Then, with what fearful eagerness I gazed

At earliest daybreak, o'er the distant deep!

How sick at heart with hope, when evening closed,
Gazed through the gathering shadows! . . . but I saw
The sun still sink below the endless waves,
And still at morn, beneath the farthest sky,
Unbounded ocean heaved. Day after day
Before the steady gale we drove along, .

Day after day! The fourth week now had pass'd;
Still all around was sea, . . the eternal sea!

So long that we had voyaged on so fast,
And still at morning where we were at night,
And where we were at morn, at nightfall still,
The centre of that drear circumference,
Progressive, yet no change! . . almost it seem'd
That we had pass'd the mortal bounds of space,
And speed was toiling in infinity.

My days were days of fear, my hours of rest
Were like a tyrant's slumber. Sullen looks,

Eyes turn'd on me, and whispers meant to meet
My ear, and loud despondency, and talk

Of home, now never to be seen again, .
I suffer'd these, dissembling as I could,
Till that avail'd no longer. Resolute

The

men came round me: They had shown
enough

Of courage now, enough of constancy;
Still to pursue the desperate enterprize

Were impious madness! they had deem'd, indeed,
That Heaven in favour gave the unchanging gale ; .
More reason now to think offended God,

When man's presumptuous folly strove to pass

The fated limits of the world, had sent

His winds, to waft us to the death we sought.

Their lives were dear, they bade me know, and they Many, and I, the obstinate, but one.

With that, attending no reply, they hail'd

Our fellow bark, and told their fix'd resolve.

A shout of joy approved. Thus, desperate now,

I sought my solitary cabin: there

Confused with vague tumultuous feelings lay,
And to remembrance and reflection lost,
Knew only I was wretched.

Thus entranced

Cadwallon found me; shame, and grief, and pride,
And baffled hope, and fruitless anger swell'd
Within me. All is over! I exclaim'd;

Yet not in me, my friend, hath time produced
These tardy doubts and shameful fickleness;
I have not fail'd, Cadwallon! Nay, he said,
The coward fears which persecuted me
Have shown what thou hast suffer'd. We have yet
One hope. . . I pray'd them to proceed a day,
But one day more; . . this little have I gain'd,
And here will wait the issue; in yon bark

I am not needed, . .

One only day!

they are masters there.

The gale blew strong, the bark Sped through the waters; but the silent hours, Who make no pause, went by; and center'd still, We saw the dreary vacancy of heaven

Close round our narrow view, when that brief term,
The last poor respite of our hopes expired.

They shorten'd sail, and call'd with coward prayer
For homeward winds. Why, what poor slaves are we,
In bitterness I cried; the sport of chance;
Left to the mercy of the Elements,
Or the more wayward will of such as these,
Blind tools and victims of their destiny!
Yea, Madoc! he replied, the Elements
Master indeed the feeble powers of man!
Not to the shores of Cambria will thy ships

Win back their shameful way! . . or HE, whose will
Unchains the winds, hath bade them minister
To aid us, when all human hope was gone,