By holy words in saintly chapel spoke,
And all before, the twilight meetings stolen,
Upon the shelly beach, when came my bark
Sliding with smooth oar through the soundless spray
From the Armoric shore, and vows so fond
The unfelt waters crept up round our feet;
All after, rapturous union undisturb'd,
Her father's blessing on our bridal couch,
Promise of infant pledges, all o'erthrown,
All wither'd by that Gorlois, that low worm
I were too proud to tread on heretofore;
He with some cold and antiquated plea
Of broken compact by the sire, away
Reft with a villain stealth th' ill-guarded gem,
And hoards it in his lone and trackless cave."

"A darker and more precious theft has been:
This Britain hath been stolen, this fair isle,
This land of free-born Christian men become
The rapine of fierce Heathens. Uther, hear,
Hear, son of Constantine! most dear the ties
Of wedlock earthly woven, yet seal'd by God;
But those that link us to our native land
Are wrought out from th' eternal adamant
By the Almighty. Oh! thy country's call
Loud with a thousand voices drowns the tone
Of sweet complaining even from wife beloved-
Forego the weaker, Uther, and obey

The stronger duty."-
."-"Bloodless man and cold,
Or wrong I thee; perchance the Saxon holds
Thy Emeric, and my claims must cede to thine,
Even as all beauties to that peerless star."—

"Spare, Uther, spare thy taunting, she is safe; Briton or Saxon harm not her."-" "T is well, Fair tidings!-but thy shuddering brow looks white." "There's a cold safety, Uther, with the dead, There is where foes disturb no more, the grave." "Pardon me, friend-oh pardon-but my wife, She too will seek that undisturbed place. Ere yield to that pale craven's love; if false She dare not live, and yet, oh yet she lives!"

Uprose the Avenger, and his way he took To where the rock broke off abrupt and sheer. Before him yawn'd the chasm, whose depth of gloom Sever'd the island Castle from the shore: The ocean waves, as though but newly rent That narrow channel, tumbled to and fro, Rush'd and recoil'd, and sullenly sent up An everlasting roar, deep echoed out From th' underworking caverns; the white gulls Were wandering in the dusk abyss, and shone Faint sunlight here and there on the moist siate. The Castle drawbridge hung aloof, arm'd men Paced the stern ramparts, javelins look'd out, From embrasure and loop-hole arbalist And bowstring loaded lay with weight of shaft Menacing. On the dizzy brink stood up Th' Avenger, like a Seraph when absolved His earthly mission, on some sunny peak He waits the gathering cloud, whereon he wont To charioteer along the azure space;

In vain he waits not, under his plumed feet,
And round his spreading wings it floats,
And sails off proudly with its heavenly freight.
Even thus at Samor's call down heavy fell
The drawbridge, o'er the abyss th' Avenger springs
Tintagel's huge portcullis groaning up

Its grooves gives way; then up the jealous bridge
Behind him leaps, the gate falls clashing down.

Half wonder, and half fear, Pendragon shook The terrors of his crest, and gasping stood, As when a hunter is gone in to brave The bear within his shaggy den, down peers His fellow through the dusk, and fears to see What his keen eyes strain after. But elate Appear'd upon the rampart that tall Chief, Seeming on th' outpour'd garrison to cast Words potent as the fabled Wizard's oils, With the terrific smoothness of their fire Wide sheeting the hush'd ocean; th' arbalist Discharged its unaim'd bolt, the arrow fell From the slack bowstring; careless of his charge, The watchman from his turret lean'd, o'er all Bright'ning and stilling the high language spread, Giving a cast of pride to vulgar brows, Shedding o'er stupor and thick-breathing awe A solemn hue of glory: Far it spread Beyond the sphere of sound, th 'indignant brow, The stately waving of the arm discoursed, Flow'd argument from every comely limb And the whole man was eloquence. From cliff, From bark gazed Uther's soldiery, one voice Held in suspense the wild and busy war, And on the motion of his lips the fate Of two strong armies hung. Anon the gate Flew up, the bridge lay shuddering o'er the chasm.

Forth Samor comes, a Lady by his side, And Gorlois in the garb of peace behind. Tremblingly she came gliding on, and smooth, As the west wind o'er beds of flowers, a child Was with her: the cool freshness of the air Seem'd o'er her marble cheek to flush unused To breathe, and human faces o'er her threw A modest, faint disturbance. Uther rush'd To meet her, ere he came her failing frame Seem'd as it sought some breast to sink upon, Though feebly resolute, that none but his Should be the chosen resting-place. But he Severe withheld her.-"Can the snowdrop bloom Untainted on the hemlock bank? near thee, Igerna, long hath trail'd a venomous plant, Hast thou the sullying influence 'scaped?"-She strove To work displeasure to her brow, the joy, The fondness would not give it place; she held Her boy on high, she pointed from the lines Of his soft face to Uther's, with appeal Half rapture, half reproach, and cast herself With timid boldness on her rightful couch, Her husband's bosom, that received her in, Even as the opening clouds an angel home Returning. But the joyous boy relax'd His features to a beautiful delight;

In vengeance of Tintagel, 't was a deed
Most worth my richest praise, that made me friend
To brave Pendragon. But ambition wreck'd
The angels, and the climbing soul of man
Hath sinn'd for meaner gain than Britain's throne."-

So one by one he wound his serpent coil
Around the Chieftains' souls; and inly breathed
The creeping venom. But Pendragon's heart,
Too fiery or too noble to suspect,

In Samor's teeth flung fierce th' oppressive doubt.
Th' Avenger's tranquil smile was like the change
Of aspect in a green and lofty tree

Touch'd by the wings of some faint breeze, nor shakes
The massy foliage, nor is quite at rest,
While languidly the undisturbing air
Falls away and expires. "Will Emrys hold
At midnight on St. Michael's Mount his pomp
Of Coronation? Samor will be there."
"At midnight!"-" Ay, the fires will gaily blaze,
The silent air is meet for solemn oaths."-
The night is starless, soft and still, the heavens
O'erwoven with a thin and rayless mist;
A long low heavy sound of breaking surge
Roams down the shore, and now and then the woods
Flutter and bend with one short rush of wind.
The tide hath risen o'er the stony belt,
That to the mainland links the Mount: where meet
Even now the Chieftains, ocean all around,
On every side the white and moaning waves.
On the bare summit, 'neath the cope of heaven,
The conclave stands, bare, save a lofty pile
Of wood compacted like funereal pyre

Of a departed hero in old time

On some Ægean promontory rear'd,

Or by the Black inhospitable Sea.

The crown is on king Emrys' head, his hair
Is redolent with the anointing oil.

"Hail, King of Britain!"-Samor cried, and “Hail!"
Replied that band of heroes; Hail! the shores
Echoed, from bark and tent came pealing up
The universal Hail, the ocean waves

Broke in with their hoarse murmur of applause.

Air, earth, and waters, ye have play'd your part, There's yet another element,"-cried aloud Samor, and in the pyre he cast a brand. A moment, and uprush'd the giant fire, Piercing the dim heavens with its blazing brow, And on the still air shaking its red locks. There by its side the Vassals and their King, Motionless on their shadows huge and dun, Show'd like destroying Angels, round enwrapp'd In their careering pomp of flame; far flash'd The yellow midnight day o'er shore and sea: The waves now ruddy heaved, now darkly plunged, Upon the rocks, within the wavering light Strong featured faces fierce, and hard-lined forms Broke out and disappear'd; the anchor'd fleet Were laving their brown sides in rainbow spray. No sound was heard, but the devouring flame, And the thick plashing waters." Keep your faith, (Cried Samor) ye eternal hills, and ye

Heaven-neighbouring mountains!"-Eastward far

anon

Another fire rose furious up, behind Another and another: all the hills Each behind each held up its crest of flame; Along the heavens the bright and crimson hue Widening and deepening travels on the range O'erleaps black Tamar, by whose ebon tide Cornwall is bounded, and on Heytor rock, Above the stony moorish source of Dart, It waves a sanguine standard; Haldon burns, And the red City* glows a deeper hue; And all the southern rocks, the moorland downs In those portentous characters of flame Discourse, and bear the glaring legend on, Even to the graves on Ambri plain, where woke That pallid woman, and rejoiced, and deem'd 'Twas sent to guide her to the tomb she sought. Fast flash they up, those altars of revenge, As the snake-tress'd Sister torch-bearers, Th' Eumenides, from the Tartarian depths Were leaping on from hill to hill, on each Leaving the tracks of their flame-dropping feet. or as the souls of the dead fathers, wrapt In bright meteorous grave-clothes, had arisen, And each sate crowning his accustom'd hill, Silent or radiant: or as th' isle devote Had wrought down by her bold and frequent guilt Th' Almighty's lightning shafts, now numberless Forth raining from the lurid reeking clouds, And smiting all the heights. On spreads the train, Northward it breaks upon the Quantock ridge, It reddens on the Mendip forests dark, It looks into the cavern'd Cheddar cliffs, The boatman on the Severn mouth awakes And sees the waters rippling round his keel In spots and streaks of purple light, each shore Ablaze with all its answering hills; the streams Run glittering down Plinlimmon's side, though thick And moonless the wan night: and Idris stands Like Stromboli or Etna, where 't was feign'd E'er at their flashing furnace wrought the Sons Of Vulcan, forging with eternal toil Jove's never idle thunderbolts. And thou, Snowdon, the king of mountains, art not dark Amid thy vassal brethren gleaming bright. Is it to welcome thy returning Seer, That thus above thy clouds, above thy snows Thou wear'st that wreathed diadem of fire, As to outshine the pale and winking stars? O'er Menai's waters blue the gleaming spreads, The Bard in Mona's secret grove beholds A glitter on his harp-strings, and looks out Upon the kindling cliffs of Penmanmawr. Is it a pile of martyrdom above Clwyd's green vale? beside the embers bright Stands holy Germain, as a saint new come From the pure mansions of beatitude, The centre of a glory, that spreads round Its film of thin pellucid gold. Nor there Pauses the restless Messenger, still on

* Caer ruth, Exeter.

Vaults it from rock to rock, from peak to peak.
Far seen it shimmer'd on Caer Ebrane wall,
And Malwyn blew a bugle blast for joy.
The sun uprising sees the dusk night fled
Already from tall Pendle, and the height

Of Ingleborough, sees Helvellyn cast

A meteor splendour on the mountain lakes,
Like mirrors of the liquid molten brass.
The brightest and the broadest and the last,
There flakes the beacon glare, and in the midst
Dashing the ruddy sparkles to and fro
With the black remnant of a pine-tree stem,
Stands arm'd from head to foot Prince Vortimer.

BOOK XI.

MIGHTY in thy endurance, in revenge
Mightier! thou shakest thy dusky patience off,
O Britain! as a snake its wither'd skin,
That boastful to the sunshine coils and spreads
In bright and cruel beauty. Not in vain

A nation from its wintry trance set loose,
The bursting ice of servitude, the bloom
Of freedom in the wither'd mind obscure,
The bleakness of the heart discomfited,
And over the bow'd shape and darkling brow
The flowering out of faded glories, sounds
Of cheering and of comfort to the rent
And broken by the tyrannous northern blast,
These are earth's rich adornings, these the choice
Of nature's bounteous and inspiring shows.
Therefore the young Sun with his prime of light
Shall beam on ensigns; the blithe airs shall waft
Jocund the lofty pealing battle words;
And not unwelcome, fierce crests intercept
The spring-dews from the thirsty soil; the brass
For vestment the admiring earth shall wear
More proud than all her flowery robe of green.

In all the isle was flat subjection tame, In all the isle, hath Freedom rear'd her, plumed With terror, sandal'd with relentlessness: Her march like brazen chariots, or the tramp Of horsemen in a rocky glen; and clouds Of javelins in her front, and in her rear

Alas, delicious Spring! God sends thee down
To breathe upon his cold and perish'd works
Beauteous revival; earth should welcome thee,
Thee and the West wind, thy smooth paramour,
With the soft laughter of her flowery meads,
Her joys, her melodies. The prancing stag
Flutters the shivering fern, the steed shakes out
His mane, the dewy herbage silver-webb'd
With frank step trampling; the wild goat looks down
From his empurpling bed of heath, where break
The waters deep and blue with crystal gleams
Of their quick-leaping people: the fresh lark
Is in the morning sky, the nightingale
Tunes evesong to the dropping waterfall.
Creation lives with loveliness, all melts
And trembles into one mild harmony.
Man, only harsh and inharmonious Man,
Strews for thy delicate feet the battle field,
Makes all thy smooth and flowing airs to jar
With his hoarse trumpetings, scares thy sweet light
With gleams of violent and angry brass.

A way! it is a yearly common joy,
A rapture that ne'er fails the solemn Sun
In his eternal round, the blossoming
And fragrance of the green resolving earth.
But a fresh springtide in the human soul,

Upon their trampled White Horse banners: them
Her fury hath no time to scorn, no pause
To look back on her deathful deeds achieved,
While aught remains before her to achieve.
Distract amid the wide spread feast of blood,
The wandering raven knows not where to feed,
And the gorged vulture droops his wing and sleeps.

War hath the garb of holiness, bear proof, Thou vale of Clwyd, to our cold late days, By the embalming of tradition named, Maes Garmon, of that saintly Bishop. He His grey thin locks unshaken, his slow port Calm as he trod a chapel's rush-strewn floor, Comes foremost of his Christian mountaineers, Against th' embattled Pagans' fierce array. By the green margin of the stream, the band Of Arngrim glitter in the morning light. Their shadowy lances line the marble stream With long and level rules of trembling shade; The sunshine falling in between in streaks Of brightness. They th' unwonted show of war Behold slow winding down the wooded hill.

"Now by our Gods," cried Arngrim, "discontent To scare our midnight with their insolent fires, They break upon our calm and peaceful day." But silent as the travel of the clouds At breathless twilight, or a flock that winds, Dappling the brown cliff with its snowy specks, Foldward along the evening dews, a bell Now and then tinkling, faintly shrill, come on Outspreading on the meadow the stern band Of Britons with their mitred Captain; front Opposed to front they stand, and spear to spear. Then Germain clasp'd his hands and look'd to heaven Then Germain in a deep and solemn tone Cried "Alleluia!" answer was flung back:

From cliff and cavern, "Alleluia," burst;
It seem'd strong voices broke the bosom'd earth,
Dropt voices from the clouds, and in the rush
Of waters was a human clamour, far
Swept over all things in its boundless range
The scattering and discomfiting appeal:

"T was shaken from the shivering forest leaves,
Ceaseless and countless, lifeless living things
Multiplied, "Alleluia," all the air;

Was that one word, all sounds became that sound,
As the broad lightning swallows up all lights,
All quench'd in one blue universal glare.

On rush'd the Britons, but 'gainst flying foes,
Quick smote the Britons, but no breast-plate clove
Before them, then the ignominious death
First through the back found way to Saxon hearts.

Oh, Suevian forests! Clwyd's vale beholds
What ye have never witness'd, Arngrim's flight—
Fleet huntsman, thou art now the deer, the herd,
Whereof thou wert the prime and lofty horn'd,
Are falling fast around thee, th' unleash'd dogs
Of havoc on their reeking flanks and thee,
The herdsman of the meek and peaceful goats,
Thee, the soft tuner of the reedy flute
Beside Nantfrangon's stony cataract,
Mordrin pursues. So strong that battle word
Its holy transmutation and austere

Works in the soul of man, the spirit sheathes
In the thrice folding brass of valour, swells
The thin and lazy blood t' a current fierce
And torrent like, and in the breast erewhile
But open to the tremulous melting airs
Of passions gentle and affections smooth,
Plants armed hopes and eagle-wing'd desires.
Therefore that youth his downy hand hath wreathed
In the strong Suevian's knotted locks, drawn up
Like a wrought helm of ebon; therefore fix
His eyes, more used to swim in languid light,
With an implacable and constant stare
Down on the face of Arngrim, backward drawn,
As he its writhing agony enjoy'd;

And therefore he, whose wont it was to bear
The many sparkling crystal, or the cup
Of dripping water lily from the spring
To the blithe maiden of his love, now shakes
A gory and dissever'd head aloft,
And bounds in wild ovation down the vale.

But in that dire and beacon-haunted night King Vortigern his wonted seat had ta'en Upon Caermerddhyn's topmost palace tower. There, the best privilege of greatness fall'n, He saw not, nor was seen: there wrapt in gloom, 'Twas his soul's treasured luxury and choice joy To frame out of himself and his drear state, Dark comfortable likenesses, and full And frequent throng'd they this wild midnight. All cloudy and indistinct lay round; the sole Dull glimmering like to light was what remain'd *Hollinshed, Book 5, Chap. 6.

Of day, just not so utterly extinct

And quench'd as yet to show splendour had been,
And was not; the dusk simile of himself
Delighted, royal once, now with a mock
And mimic of his lustre haunted. Why,

Why should not human glory wane, since clouds
Put out the immortal planets in the sky?
Why should not crowns have seasons, since the moon
Hath but her hour to queen it in the heavens?
Why should not high and climbing souls be lost
In the benighting shroud of the world's gloom?
Lo, one inglorious, undistinguish'd night
Gathers the ancient mountains in its train,
While e'er the dunnest and most turbulent clouds
Thicken upon the stateliest; but beneath
The lowly and contented waters lie
Asleep upon their weedy banks, yet they
Have all the faint blue brightness that remains.
Then moodier the fantastic humour grown,
Stoop'd upon mean and trivial things, them too
Wrought to his wayward misanthropic scope.
Amid the swaying and disturbed air
The rooks hung murmuring on the oak-tree tops,
As plaining their uneasy loftiness.
While, solitary as himself, the owl

Sate calling on its deaf and wandering mate.
Him at that sound seized merriment, that made
The lip drop, the brow writhe. "Howl on," he cried,
"Howl for thy dusky paramour,”—and turn'd
To where Rowena's chamber casements stood,
Void, silent, dark of their once-brilliant lights.

Sudden around 'gan spire the mountain tops Each with its intertwisted sheaf of flame, South, North and East and West, fire everywhere, Everywhere flashing and tumultuous light. Then gazed the unking'd, then cried out the fallen, "Now, by my soul, when comets gaze on kings Even from the far and vaulting heavens, 't is faith There's hollowness beneath their tottering thrones; But when they flash upon our earth, and stare Close in our faces, 'tis ripe time and full For palaces to quake and royal tombs

Το

ope their wide and all-receiving jaws. What is 't to me? ye menace at the great! Ye stoop not to be dangerous and dread, Oh haughty and mysterious lights! to thrones Low and despised like mine; in earlier days Vortigern would have quail'd, he mocks you now. Ye are not of the heavens, I know, I see, Discomfitures of darkness, Conquerors Of midnight, ye are of the earth. Why stands Caermerddhyn and the realm of Dyfed black Amid this restless multitude of flames? "Tis not for idle or for fruitless show That with such splendid violation, Man Infringeth on stern nature's laws, and rends From night her consecrate and ancient pall! Samor, thy hand is there! and Vortigern Hath not yet learnt the patience cold and tame To be outblazed and stifled thus."-Down past The Monarch from his seat; few minutes fled,