ARTEGAL AND ELIDURE
(SEE THE CHRONICLE OF GEOFFREY OF MONMOUTH AND MILTON'S HISTORY OF ENGLAND)
Composed 1815.—Published 1820
[This was written at Rydal Mount, as a token of affectionate respect for the memory of Milton. "I have determined," says he, in his preface to his History of England, "to bestow the telling over even of these reputed tales, be it for nothing else but in favour of our English Poets and Rhetoricians, who by their wit will know how to use them judiciously."—I.F.]
One of the "Poems founded on the Affections."
The extract given in the Fenwick note is not from the "preface," but from the first book of Milton's History of England.—Ed.
Where be the temples which,[41] in Britain's Isle,
For his paternal Gods, the Trojan raised?[U]
Gone like a morning dream, or like a pile
Of clouds that in cerulean ether blazed!
Ere Julius landed on her white-cliffed shore,[V]
They sank, delivered o'er
To fatal dissolution; and, I ween,
No vestige then was left that such had ever been.
Nathless, a British record (long concealed
In old Armorica, whose secret springs
No Gothic conqueror ever drank) revealed
The marvellous[42] current of forgotten things;[W]
How Brutus came, by oracles impelled,
And Albion's giants quelled,[X]
A brood whom no civility could melt,
"Who never tasted grace, and goodness ne'er had felt."
By brave Corineus aided, he subdued,[Y]
And rooted out the intolerable kind;
And this too-long-polluted land[43] imbued
With goodly[44] arts and usages refined;
Whence golden harvests, cities, warlike towers,
And pleasure's sumptuous[45] bowers;
Whence all the fixed[46] delights of house and home,
Friendships[47] that will not break, and love that cannot roam.[Z]
25
O, happy Britain! region all too fair
For self-delighting fancy[48] to endure
That silence only should inhabit there,
Wild beasts, or uncouth savages impure!
But, intermingled with the generous seed,
Grew[49] many a poisonous weed;
Thus fares it still with all that takes its birth
From human care, or grows upon the breast of earth.
Hence, and how soon! that war of vengeance waged
By Guendolen against her faithless lord;[AA]
Till she, in jealous fury unassuaged
Had slain his paramour with ruthless sword:
Then, into Severn hideously defiled,
She flung her[50] blameless child,
Sabrina,—vowing that the stream should bear
That name through every age, her hatred to declare.[AB]
So speaks the Chronicle, and tells of Lear
By his ungrateful daughters turned adrift.
Ye lightnings, hear his voice!—they cannot hear,
Nor can the winds restore his simple gift.
But One there is, a Child of nature meek,
Who comes her Sire to seek;
And he, recovering sense, upon her breast
Leans smilingly, and sinks into a perfect rest.[AC]
There too we read of Spenser's fairy themes,
And those that Milton loved in youthful years;
The sage enchanter Merlin's subtle schemes;
The feats of Arthur and his knightly peers;[AD]
Of Arthur,—who, to upper light restored,
With that terrific sword[AE]
Which yet he brandishes for future war,[51]
Shall lift his country's fame above the polar star!
What wonder, then, if in such[52] ample field
Of old tradition, one particular flower
Doth seemingly in vain its fragrance yield,
And bloom unnoticed even to this late hour?
Now, gentle Muses, your assistance grant,
While I this flower transplant
Into a garden stored with Poesy;[53]
Where flowers and herbs unite, and haply some weeds be,[54]
That, wanting not wild grace, are from all mischief free![55]
66
A King more worthy of respect and love
Than wise Gorbonian ruled not in his day;[AF]
And grateful Britain prospered far above
All neighbouring countries through his righteous sway;
He poured rewards and honours on the good;
The oppressor he withstood;
And while he served the Gods with reverence due,
Fields smiled, and temples rose, and towns and cities grew.
He died, whom Artegal succeeds—his son;
But how unworthy of that sire[56] was he!
A hopeful reign, auspiciously begun,
Was darkened soon by foul iniquity.
From crime to crime he mounted, till at length
The nobles leagued their strength
With a vexed people, and the tyrant chased;
And, on the vacant throne, his worthier Brother placed.
From realm to realm the humbled Exile went,
Suppliant for aid his kingdom to regain;
In many a court, and many a warrior's tent,
He urged his persevering suit in vain.
Him, in whose wretched heart ambition failed,
Dire poverty assailed;
And, tired with slights his pride no more could brook,
He towards his native country cast a longing look.[57]
90
Fair blew the wished-for wind—the voyage sped;
He landed; and, by many dangers scared,
"Poorly provided, poorly followèd,"
To Calaterium's forest he repaired.
How changed from him who, born to highest place,
Had swayed the royal mace,
Flattered and feared, despised yet deified,
In Troynovant, his seat by silver Thames's side![AG]
From that wild region where the crownless King
Lay in concealment with his scanty train,
Supporting life by water from the spring,
And such chance food as outlaws can obtain,
Unto the few whom he esteems his friends
A messenger he sends;
And from their secret loyalty requires
Shelter and daily bread,—the sum[58] of his desires.
While he the issue waits, at early morn
Wandering by stealth abroad, he chanced to hear
A startling outcry made by hound and horn,
From which the tusky wild boar flies in fear;[59]
And, scouring toward[60] him o'er the grassy plain,
Behold the hunter train!
He bids his little company advance
With seeming unconcern and steady countenance.
The royal Elidure, who leads the chase,
Hath checked his foaming courser:—can it be!
Methinks that I should recognise that face,
Though much disguised by long adversity!
He gazed rejoicing, and again he gazed,
Confounded and amazed—
"It is the king, my brother!" and, by sound
Of his own voice confirmed, he leaps upon the ground.
Long, strict, and tender was the embrace he gave,
Feebly returned by daunted Artegal;
Whose natural affection doubts enslave,
And apprehensions dark and criminal.
Loth to restrain the moving interview,
The attendant lords withdrew;
And, while they stood upon the plain apart,
Thus Elidure, by words, relieved his struggling heart.
125
"By heavenly Powers conducted, we have met;
—O Brother! to my knowledge lost so long,
But neither lost to love, nor to regret,
Nor to my wishes lost;—forgive the wrong,
(Such it may seem) if I thy crown have borne,
Thy royal mantle worn:
I was their natural guardian; and 'tis just
That now I should restore what hath been held in trust."
A while the astonished Artegal stood mute,
Then thus exclaimed: "To me, of titles shorn,
And stripped of power! me, feeble, destitute,
To me a kingdom! spare the bitter scorn:
If justice ruled the breast[61] of foreign kings,
Then, on the wide-spread wings
Of war, had I returned to claim my right;
This will I here avow, not dreading thy despite."
"I do not blame thee," Elidure replied;
"But, if my looks did with my words agree,
I should at once be trusted, not defied,
And thou from all disquietude be free.
May the unsullied Goddess of the chase,[62][AH]
Who to this blessed place
At this blest moment led me, if I speak
With insincere intent, on me her vengeance wreak!
"Were this same spear, which in my hand I grasp,
The British sceptre, here would I to thee
The symbol yield; and would undo this clasp,
If it confined the robe of sovereignty.
Odious to me the pomp of regal court,
And joyless sylvan sport,
While thou art roving, wretched and forlorn,
Thy couch the dewy earth, thy roof the forest thorn!"
Then Artegal thus spake: "I only sought,
Within this realm a place of safe retreat;
Beware of rousing an ambitious thought;
Beware of kindling hopes, for me unmeet!
Thou art reputed wise, but in my mind
Art pitiably blind:
Full soon this generous purpose thou may'st rue,
When that which has been done[63] no wishes can undo.
170
"Who, when a crown is fixed upon his head,
Would balance claim with claim, and right with right?
But thou—I know not how inspired, how led—
Wouldst change the course of things in all men's sight!
And this for one who cannot imitate
Thy virtue, who may hate:
For, if, by such strange sacrifice restored,
He reign, thou still must be his king, and sovereign lord;
"Lifted in magnanimity above
Aught that my feeble nature could perform,
Or even conceive; surpassing me in love
Far as in power the eagle doth the worm:
I, Brother! only should be king in name,
And govern to my shame;
A shadow in a hated land, while all
Of glad or willing service to thy share would fall."
"Believe it not," said Elidure; "respect
Awaits on virtuous life, and ever most
Attends on goodness with dominion decked,
Which stands the universal empire's boast;
This can thy own experience testify:
Nor shall thy foes deny
That, in the gracious opening of thy reign,
Our father's spirit seemed in thee to breathe again.
"And what if o'er that bright unbosoming
Clouds of disgrace and envious fortune past!
Have we not seen the glories of the spring
By veil of noontide darkness overcast?
The frith[64] that glittered like a warrior's shield,
The sky, the gay green field,
Are vanished; gladness ceases in the groves,
And trepidation strikes the blackened mountain-coves.
"But is that gloom dissolved? how passing clear
Seems the wide world, far brighter than before!
Even so thy latent worth will re-appear,
Gladdening the people's heart[65] from shore to shore;
For youthful faults ripe virtues shall atone;
Re-seated on thy throne,
Proof shalt thou furnish that misfortune, pain,
And sorrow, have confirmed thy native[66] right to reign.
210
"But, not to overlook what thou may'st know,
Thy enemies are neither weak nor few;
And circumspect must be our course, and slow,
Or from my purpose ruin may ensue.
Dismiss thy followers;—let them calmly wait
Such change in thy estate
As I already have in thought devised;
And which, with caution due, may soon be realised."
The Story tells what courses were pursued,
Until king Elidure, with full consent
Of all his peers, before the multitude,
Rose,—and, to consummate this just intent,
Did place upon his brother's head the crown,
Relinquished by his own;
Then to his[67] people cried, "Receive your lord,
Gorbonian's first-born son, your rightful king restored!"
The people answered with a loud acclaim:
Yet more;—heart-smitten by the heroic deed,
The reinstated Artegal became
Earth's noblest penitent;[68] from bondage freed
Of vice—thenceforth unable[69] to subvert
Or shake his high desert.
Long did he reign; and, when he died, the tear
Of universal grief bedewed his honoured bier.
Thus was a Brother by a Brother saved;[AI]
With whom a crown (temptation that hath set
Discord in hearts of men till they have braved
Their nearest kin with deadly purpose met)
'Gainst duty weighed, and faithful love, did seem
A thing of no esteem;
And, from this triumph of affection pure,
He bore the lasting name of "pious Elidure!"[AJ]
VARIANTS:
[41] 1820
ms.
. . . that, . . .
[42] 1836.
1820 and ms.
The wonderous . . .
[43] 1820.
ms.
. . . soil . . .
[44] 1820.
ms.
. . . gentle . . .
[45] 1820.
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. . . fragrant . . .
[46] 1820.
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. . . mild . . .
[47] 1820.
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Friendship . . .
[48] 1820.
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For fondly favouring Nature . . .
[49] 1820.
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Lurked . . .
[50] 1820.
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She flung their . . .
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Cast this, her . . .
[51] 1836.
1820.
Which yet he wields in subterranean war,
ms.
Which yet he wields in subterraneous war,
Which yet he graspeth, meditating war,
To lift
[52] 1820.
ms.
. . . this . . .
[53] 1820.
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Into a Garden of pure Poesy;
ms.
. . . stocked with Poesy;
[54] 1820.
ms.
. . . some be weeds,
[55] 1820.
. . . Poesy
Which hath been tended long with all humility.
[56] 1836.
1820 and ms.
. . . of such sire . . .
[57] 1836.
And, tired with slights which he no more could brook,
Towards his native soil he cast a longing look.
[58] 1836.
1820 and ms.
. . . the amount . . .
[59] 1845.
1820 and ms.
. . . tusky boar hath fled in fear;
[60] 1832.
1820 and ms.
. . . tow'rds . . .
[61] 1820.
ms.
. . . in breasts . . .
[62] 1827.
1820.
May spotless Dian, Goddess of the chace,
[63] 1820.
ms.
When that which thou hast done . . .
[64] 1820.
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The Lake . . .
[65] 1820.
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. . . hearts . . .
[66] 1820.
ms.
. . . inborn . . .
[67] 1820.
ms.
. . . the . . .
[68] 1820.
ms.
A thorough penitent; . . .
[69] 1827.
1820.
Of vice,—of vice unable . . .
ms.
Of vice—henceforth unable . . .
FOOTNOTES:
[U] Brutus, reputed great-grandson of Æneas the Trojan Prince, the legendary founder of the British race—according to the story in Geoffrey of Monmouth's Chronicle—after a somewhat chequered career in Greece, consulted Diana where he should go and settle. To whom Diana in a vision replied:—
Brutus, far to the West, in th' Ocean wide,
Beyond the realm of Gaul, a land there lies,
Sea-girt it lies, where Giants dwelt of old,
Now void, it fits thy people; thither bend
Thy course, there shalt thou find a lasting seat,
There to thy sons another Troy shall rise,
And kings be born of thee....
"Brutus guided now," says Milton (following Monmouth), "by Divine conduct, speeds him towards the West."... After some adventures in the Adriatic and in Gaul, "with an easy course, arriving at Totness, in Devonshire, quickly perceives here to be the promised end of his labours.
"The island, not yet Britain but Albion, was in a manner desert, and inhospitable; kept only by a remnant of Giants; whose excessive Force and Tyrannie had consumed the rest. Them Brutus destroies, and to his people divides the Land, which with som reference to his own name, he henceforth calls Britain." (Milton's History of England, book i.)—Ed.
[V] Julius Caesar landed for the first time in Britain, 55 B.C.—Ed.
[W] Compare The Solitary Reaper, II. 18-20 (vol. ii. p. 398):—
Perhaps the plaintive numbers flow
For old, unhappy, far-off things,
And battles long ago.Ed.
[X] See note A on the previous page.—Ed.
[Y] Corineus, according to the old legend, was the chief of a Trojan race who came with Brutus into Aquitania, and afterwards into Britain. Cornwall fell to Corineus by lot, in the portioning out of the new territory, "the rather by him liked," says Milton, "for that the hugest Giants in Rocks and Caves were said to lurk still there; which kind of Monsters to deal with was his old exercise." (Milton's History of England, book i.)—Ed.
[Z] Compare To a Skylark (1825)—
Type of the wise who soar, but never roam;
True to the kindred points of Heaven and Home.Ed.
[AA] Locrine, Brutus' son, was engaged to marry Corineus' daughter, Guendolen. But, after defeating Humber, King of the Huns, and finding Estrildis, daughter of a German king, amongst the spoil, he took her captive. He married Guendolen, but loved Estrildis, and on the death of Corineus, he divorced Guendolen, and married Estrildis. The rest may be told in Milton's words: "Guendolen all in rage departs into Cornwal;... And gathering an army of her Father's Friends and Subjects, gives Battail to her Husband by the River Sture; wherein Locrine, shot with an arrow, ends his life. But not so ends the fury of Guendolen; for Estrildis, and her daughter Sabra, she throws into a River: and to leave a Monument of Revenge, proclaims that the Stream be henceforth called after the Damsel's name; which by length of time is changed now to Sabrina or Severn." (History of England, book i.)—Ed.
[AB] See note on the previous page.—Ed.
[AC] "Leir who next Reigned, had only three Daughters, and no Male Issue: governed laudably, and built Caer-Leir, now Leicester, on the bank of Sora. But at last, failing through Age, he determines to bestow his Daughters, and so among them to divide his Kingdom. Yet first to try which of them loved him best, (a Trial that might have made him, had he known as wisely how to try, as he seemed to know how much the trying behooved him) he resolves a simple resolution, to ask them solemnly in order; and which of them should profess largest, her to beleev. Gonorill the Eldest, apprehending too well her Father's weakness, makes answer invoking Heaven, That she loved him above her Soul. Therefore, quoth the old man, overjoyed, since thou so honourst my declined Age, to thee and the Husband whom thou shalt choose, I give the third part of my Realm. So fair a speeding for a few words soon uttered, was to Regan the second, ample instruction what to say. She on the same demand spares no protesting, and the Gods must witness that otherwise to express her thoughts she knew not, but that she loved him above all Creatures; and so receavs an equal reward with her Sister. But Cordeilla, the youngest, though hitherto best beloved, and now before her Eyes the rich and present hire of a little easie soothing, the danger also, and the loss likely to betide plain dealing, yet moves not from the solid purpose of a sincere and vertuous answer. Father, saith she, my love towards you, is as my duty bids; what should a Father seek, what can a Child promise more? they who pretend beyond this, flatter. When the old man, sorry to hear this, and wishing her to recall those words, persisted asking, with a loiall sadness at her Father's infirmity, but something on the sudden, harsh, and glancing, rather at her Sisters, then speaking her own mind, Two waies only, saith she, I have to answer what you require mee; the former, Your command is, I should recant; accept then this other which is left me; look how much you have, so much is your value, and so much I love you. Then hear thou, quoth Leir now all in passion, what thy ingratitude hath gained thee; because thou hast not reverenced thy aged father equall to thy Sisters, part in my Kingdom, or what else is mine reck'n to have none. And without delay gives in marriage his other Daughters, Gonorill to Maglannus Duke of Albana, Regan to Henninus Duke of Cornwal; with them in present half his Kingdom; the rest to follow at his Death. In the mean while Fame was not sparing to divulge the wisdom, and other Graces of Cordeilla, insomuch that Aganippus a great King in Gaul (however he came by his Greek name) seeks her to Wife, and nothing alter'd at the loss of her Dowry, receavs her gladly in such manner as she was sent him. After this King Leir, more and more drooping with years, became an easy prey to his Daughters and thir Husbands; who now by dayly encroachment had seis'd the whole Kingdom into thir hands: and the old King is put to sojorn with his Eldest Daughter, attended only by three score Knights. But they in a short while grudged at, as too numerous and disorderly for continuall guests, are reduced to thirty. Not brooking that affront, the old King betakes him to his second Daughter; but there also discord soon arising between the Servants of differing Masters in one Family, five only are suffer'd to attend him. Then back again he returns to the other; hoping that she his Eldest could not but have more pity on his Gray Hairs: but she now refuses to admitt him, unless he be content with one only of his followers. At last the remembrance of his youngest Cordeilla comes to his thoughts; and now acknowledging how true her words had bin, though with little hope from whom he had so injur'd, be it but to pay her the last recompence she can have from him, his confession of her wise forewarning, that so perhaps his misery, the prooff and experiment of her Wisdom, might somthing soft'n her, he takes his Journey into France. Now might be seen a difference between the silent, or downright spok'n affection of som Children to thir Parents, and the talkative obsequiousness of others: while the hope of Inheritance over-acts them, and on the Tongue's end enlarges thir duty. Cordeilla out of meer love, without the suspicion of expected reward, at the message only of her Father in distress, pours forth true filial tears. And not enduring either that her own, or any other Eye should see him in such forlorn condition as his Messenger declar'd, discreetly appoints one of her trusted Servants, first to convay him privately toward som good Sea Town, there to array him, bathe him, cherish him, furnish him with such Attendance and State, as beseem'd his Dignity. That then, as from his first Landing, he might send word of his Arrival to her Husband Aganippus. Which don with all mature and requisite contrivance, Cordeilla with the King her Husband, and all the Barony of his Realm, who then first had news of his passing the Sea, goe out to meet him; and after all honourable and joyfull entertainment, Aganippus, as to his Wives Father, and his Royall Guest, surrenders him, during his abode there, the power, and disposal of his whole Dominion; permitting his Wife Cordeilla to go with an Army, and set her Father upon his Throne. Wherein her piety so prospered, as that she vanquished her impious Sisters with those Dukes, and Leir again, as saith the story, three years obtained the Crown. To whom dying, Cordeilla with all regal Solemnities gave Burial in the Town of Leicester. And then as right Heir succeeding, and her Husband dead, rul'd the land five years in peace." (Milton, History of England, book i.)—Ed.
[AD] See Milton's History of England, book iii.—Ed.
[AE] The sword Excalibur, given to King Arthur by the Lady of the Lake. Compare Tennyson's Morte d'Arthur.—Ed.
[AF] The following is Milton's account of Gorbonian, Archigallo, and Elidure:—"Gorbonian the Eldest of his five Sons, then whom a juster man liv'd not in his Age, was a great builder of Temples, and gave to all what was thir due; to his Gods devout Worship, to men of desert honour and preferment; to the Commons encouragement in thir Labours, and Trades, defence and protection from injuries and oppressions, so that the Land florish'd above her Neighbours, Violence and Wrong seldom was heard of; his Death was a general loss; he was buried in Trinovant.
"Archigallo the second Brother followed not his Example; but depress'd the ancient Nobility, and by peeling the wealthier sort, stuff'd his Treasury, and took the right way to be depos'd.
"Elidure the next Brother, surnamed the Pious, was set up in his place; a mind so noble, and so moderat, as almost is incredible to have bin ever found. For having held the Scepter five years, hunting one day in the Forest of Calater, he chanc'd to meet his deposed Brother, wandering in mean condition; who had bin long in vain beyond the Seas, importuning Foren aides to his Restorement: and was now in a poor Habit, with only ten followers, privatly return'd to find subsistence among his secret friends. At the unexpected sight of him, Elidure himself also then but thinly accompanied, runs to him with open Arms; and after many dear and sincere welcomings, convaies him to the Citty Alclud; there hides him in his own Bed-Chamber. Afterwards faining himself sick, summons all his Peers as about greatest affairs; where admitting them one by one, as if his weakness endur'd not the disturbance of more at once, causes them, willing or unwilling, once more to swear Allegiance to Archigallo. Whom after reconciliation made on all sides, he leads to York: and from his own Head, places the Crown on the Head of his Brother, who thenceforth, Vice itself dissolving in him, and forgetting her firmest hold with the admiration of a deed so Heroic, became a true converted man: rul'd worthily 10 years; dy'd and was Buried in Caer-Leir. Thus was a Brother saved by a Brother, to whom love of a Crown, the thing that so often dazles, and vitiates mortal man, for which thousands of neerest blood have destroy'd each other, was in respect of Brotherly dearness, a contemptible thing." (Milton, History of England, book i.)—Ed.
[AG] The legendary story tells that Brutus, the founder of the British race, having come from Troy (see note [U] to p. 45), "in a chosen place builds Troia nova, changed in time to Trinovantum, now London."—Ed.
[AH] It may not be too insignificant to note that it was Diana, the "Goddess of the chase," whom Brutus, according to the legend, consulted as to where he should settle, and who directed him to the land "to the West, in th' Ocean wide." (See note [U] p. 45.)—Ed.
[AI] See Milton's History of England, quoted in footnote, p. 51.—Ed.
[AJ] The various (tentative) versions of Artegal and Elidure—especially of some of the stanzas—are more numerous than in the case of any other poem I have seen in MS., and several of them may be preserved.
Stanza 1
Where be the Temples which in Albion's Isle,
As stories tell, the Trojan Brutus reared?
The form and substance of each stately pile
Were gone, the very dust had disappeared;
Ere Julius reached the white-cliffed shore,
They sank, delivered o'er
To utter dissolution, whence I ween
A general doubt prevails, if such have ever been.
Sunk are the Temples which, as stories tell,
In Britain's Isle the Trojan Brutus reared,
For his transplanted Gods therein to dwell?
Ere Julius landed on the white-cliffed shore,
The sacred structures were delivered o'er
To utter desolation, whence I ween
A general doubt prevails if such have ever been.
Where be the Temples which in Britain's Isle,
As legends tell, the Trojan Founder reared?
Gone like a dream of morning, or a pile
{ Of glittering clouds that in the East appeared. }
{ Of gorgeous clouds that in the west appeared. }
Ere Julius landed on her white-cliffed shore,
They sank, delivered o'er
To fatal dissolution, and I ween
No vestige there was left that such had ever been.
Stanza 2
Yet in unvanquished Cambria lay concealed
'Mid Snowdon's forests, or by Vaga's springs,
A Book whose leaves to later times revealed
The {mighty|wondrous} course of these forgotten things,
How Brutus sailed, by oracles impelled,
And hideous giants quelled,
A Brood whom no civility could melt,
Who never tasted grace, and goodness ne'er had felt.
Yet in the wilds of Cambria lay concealed
By Snowdon's forests or by Vaga's springs,
A Book whose leaves to later time revealed
The wondrous course of {those|long} forgotten things;
How Brutus came, etc.
A British record that had lain concealed
In old Armorica (whose sacred springs
No Gothic conqueror ever drank) revealed
The wondrous course of those forgotten things;
How Brutus came, etc.
Stanza 3
By brave Corineus aided, he subdued
And rooted out the intolerable kind,
And this too long-polluted soil imbued
With {gentle|goodly} arts, and usages refined;
Whence golden harvests, cities, warlike towers,
{ And for soft pleasures, bowers,}
{ And pleasure's {fragrant|leafy} bowers, }
Whence all the fixed delights of house and home,
Friendship that will not break, and love that cannot roam.
Stanza 4
O happy Britain! region all too fair
For fondly-favouring Nature to endure
* * * * * *
* * * * * *
Lurked many a poisonous weed;
Stanza 6
Who has not wept the wrongs of aged Lear
By his ungrateful daughter turned adrift?
Hear him, ye elements!—they cannot hear,
Nor can the winds restore his simple gift,
But One there is, a child of nature meek,
Who comes her sire to seek;
And he, recovering sense, upon her breast
Leans smilingly, and sinks into a { happy/passing} rest.
Stanza 7
{Honoured, for ever honoured be the page, }
{Prized be the Book, and honoured the Page,}
When England's Darling found a basis laid
To those dread scenes which on the tragic stage
To trembling multitudes his art displayed;
And to {that chronicle/the same for this} be praise decreed
That there men first did read
Of Merlin's insight into future years,
And all the mighty feats of Arthur and his peers.
Stanza 8
What wonder, then, if 'mid the vast domain
Of that rich Volume, one particular Flower
Hath breathed its fragrance seemingly in vain
And bloomed unnoticed even to this late hour,
Ye gentle Muses, your assistance grant,
While I this flower transplant
Into a garden pure of poesy,
Small garden which I tend in all humility.
The following (suppressed) Stanza followed No. 10
The winds and waves have aided him to reach
That coast, the object of his heart's desire,
But, while the crownless sovereign trod the beach,
His eyeballs kindle with resentful ire,
As if incensed with all that he beholds,
Dark fields, and naked wolds,
And these few Followers, a helpless band
That to his fortunes cleave, and wait on his command.
Stanza 12
{"Bear with me, Friends," said Artegal ashamed,}
{"Forgive this passion," Artegal exclaimed, }
And, as he spake, they dive into a wood,
And from its shady boughs protection claimed,
For light he fears, and open neighbourhood.
How changed from him who born to highest place
Stanza 13
Oft by imaginary terrors scared,
And sometimes into real dangers brought,
To Calaterium's forest he repaired,
And in its depth secure a refuge sought,
Thence to a few whom he esteems his friends
A messenger he sends,
Stanza 14
With his attendants here at break of morn,
Wandering by stealth abroad he chanced to hear
A startling outcry made by hound and horn,
From which the tusky Boar hath fled in fear,
And, etc.
Stanza 16
Feebly returned by {wandering/trembling} Artegal,
Stanza 17
{Heir of Gorbonian! Brother gladly met, }
{Gorbonian's heir, my brother gladly met,}
Stanza 25
And what if o'er this bright unbosoming
A cloud of time, and envious fortune past!
Have we not seen the glories of the spring
By noontide darkness veiled and overcast?
The lakes that glittered like a sunbright shield,
The sky, the gay green field,
All vanish in a moment, as if night
Were sister to the sun, and darkness born of light.
Stanza 26
But should the sun victorious glimmer forth,
Far brighter seems the wide world than before:
Such power is latent in thy native worth,
To spread delight and joy from shore to shore:
For past misdeeds how grateful to atone,
Re-seated on thy throne,
Give proof that long adversity, and pain,
And sorrow have confirmed thy inborn right to reign.
From Stanza 28 to end
The story tells that Artegal away
Was by his brother privily conveyed
To a far distant city (at that day
Alclwyd named), whose fortress undismayed
By the hostility of mortals stood
In sight of field and flood,
Obnoxious only on the lofty Rock
To the careering storm, and perilous lightning stroke.
When this impregnable retreat was gained,
In prudent furtherance of his just intent,
King Elidure a mortal illness feigned,
And to his mightiest Lords a summons sent
Softly, and one by one into the gloom,
(As suits a sick man's room),
The attendants introduced each potent peer,
There, singly and alone, his sovereign will to hear.
Said Elidure, Behold our rightful King,
The banished Artegal, before thee stands:
Kneel, and renew to him the offering
Of thy allegiance; justice this demands,
Immortal justice, speaking through my voice,
Accept him, and rejoice.
. . . . he will prove
Worthier than I have been of reverence and love.
If firm command and mild persuasion failed
To change the temper of an adverse mind,
With such by other engines he prevailed,
Threatening to fling their bodies to the wind
From the dread summit of the lonely block,
That castle-crested Rock,
Alclwyd then, but now Dunbarton named,
A memorable crag through spacious Albion famed.
Departing thence, to York their way they bent,
While the glad people flowers before them strewed,
And then King Elidure with full consent
Of all his peers, before the multitude
Upon his brother's head he placed the crown,
Relinquished by his own;
Triumph of justice, and affection pure,
Whence he the title gained of "pious Elidure."
The people answered with a loud acclaim,
Through admiration of the heroic deed.
The reinstated Artegal became
Earth's noblest penitent; from bondage freed
Of vice, henceforth unable to control
The motions of his soul.
{And when he died, the worthy and the brave }
{Shed tears of fond regret upon his honoured grave. }
{Long did he reign: and, when he died, the tear }
{Of fond regret was shed upon his honoured bier. }
Thus was a Brother by a Brother saved.
With whom a crown (temptation that hath set
Discord in hearts of men till they have braved
Their nearest kin in deadly battle met),
With duty weighed, and faithful love did seem
A thing of no esteem;
And from this triumph of affection pure,
He won the lasting name of "pious Elidure."