THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES 
 
 FREDERIC THOMAS BLANCHARD 
 ENDOWMENT FUND
 
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 X

 
 AGABUS; 
 
 OR, 
 
 THE LAST OF THE DEUIDS 
 
 AN 
 
 HISTORICAL POEM. 
 
 BY 
 
 ESTHER LE HARDY. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 WILLIAM PICKERING. 
 
 1851.
 
 LONDON : 
 
 EDWARD WEST, PRINTER, 
 
 17, BULL-AND- MOUTH STREET, ST. MARTI n'S-LE-GRAND.
 
 
 TO THE RIGHT HON. 
 
 LORD VISCOUNT BERESFORD, P.C. D.C.L. 
 
 ^c. 4-c. ^c. 
 GOVERNOR OF THE ISLAND OF JERSEY, 
 
 THIS POEM 
 
 IS MOST RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED, 
 
 BY 
 
 HIS LORDSHIP'S 
 
 MOST OBEDIENT SERVANT. 
 
 THE AUTHORESS. 
 
 st^K^ / fCpK^
 
 TO THE UIGHT HON. 
 
 LORD VISCOUNT BERESFORD. 
 
 My Lord, 
 
 The deep interest you have always 
 taken in my native island, and the anxiety you have 
 ever shown to promote its welfare in every way, 
 whilst it entitles you to what you so truly possess — 
 the best feelings of every Jerseyman — makes me, as 
 another instance of your support of our island talent, 
 in the dedication of this small work to your Lord- 
 ship, a personal recipient of your kindness. As 
 such, will you accept, my Lord, of the grateful 
 thanks of 
 
 Your Lordship's 
 
 Most obedient Servant, 
 
 ESTHEll LE HARDY,
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 Although the publication of this small poem is 
 promoted by the support of one fondly dear to every 
 English heart, and the proud boast of every English 
 lip, still it is with feelings of the greatest diffidence 
 that I offer this little work to the Public. Unknown 
 in the literary world, I cannot enter its field but with 
 those anxious fears that naturally even the most 
 talented authors must feel on their first onset ; but 
 if I can succeed in impressing on the mind of youth 
 the beauty of a good old age, or in leaving upon the 
 page of some memory a lesson for a future thought, 
 I shall not have written in vain. Poetry is the music 
 of the mind : it rings gladly its harmonies on our 
 cliildhood's ear, and in after life will often chime
 
 viii PREFACE. 
 
 some soothing moral on our worn-out spirit, and lull 
 it into the forgetfulness of some sorrowing or anxious 
 moment. 
 
 I have aimed at meriting the kindness of those 
 few to whom I am known ; and to those who do not 
 know me, I say " I would please you likewise." 
 
 " Et si de I'agreer je n'emporte le prix, 
 J'aurai du moins I'honneur de I'avoir entrepria."
 
 INTRODUCTION. 
 
 For a woman to pretend to treat learnedly on a sub- 
 ject so abstruse as that of the Druids, would be to 
 prove a conceit whose sole parent must be ignorance, 
 yet to choose for the subject of our pen one with 
 which we are totally unacquainted, would be to ask 
 from the well-known generosity of the British press 
 for that leniency of criticism which it ever so wil- 
 lingly accords to the feebler mental powers of my 
 sex ; but, at the same time, a generosity which we 
 cease to merit, when we cease our exertions to de- 
 serve it. 
 
 To acknowledge myself capable of reconciling the 
 diversity of opinions amongst classical and other 
 writers on the subject of the Druids, would be to
 
 X INTRODUCTION. 
 
 assume a talent I in no way possess, and a learning 
 which the more feminine pursuits of woman dis- 
 qualify me from attaining. I have done my humble 
 best to understand as much as necessary for the 
 purpose of my work. I am writing not as an his- 
 torian, but simply as a poet ; I advance no new ideas 
 as incontrovertible facts, and having chosen the 
 best authorities my limited knowledge has made me 
 acquainted with, leave to the classic and antiquary 
 to settle the discrepancies of those writers which, as 
 a mere poet, I trust I may be permitted equally to 
 cite to garnish the fancies of my little work. 
 
 The history of the Druids is one of the most hidden 
 pages of the past, for although the ancient classical 
 writers differ about them on some points, almost all, 
 under the name of Druids and other appellations, 
 speak clearly of their learning, faith, and power ; while 
 succeeding writers have endeavoured to connect and 
 keep together some of the dark links of the broken 
 chain of their mysterious history ; yet it is still a 
 wilderness in which the lichen of fiction so covers the 
 rock of truth, that the weak eye of an unlearned
 
 INTRODUCTION. xi 
 
 woman can but gather from its parched leaf the stern 
 nature of its soil, without obtaining any clearness as 
 to what caused its formation, or decomposed its 
 substance. 
 
 The real history of both the newly- discovered 
 temple of Tubel, and its neighbouring Witch-rock in 
 the ancient Island of Augia (Jersey), is now hidden 
 behind the dark veil of the past, although they are 
 still encircled with the thousand-and-one tales that 
 bigotry may have invented for its interest, or igno- 
 rance pictured in its fear. All that is known of them 
 is their existence : yet these stony monumental pages 
 that meet the eye so constantly to tell us of a hidden 
 faith, and unknown, strange, and busy scenes long 
 past away, may nevertheless afford a subject for the 
 contemplative mind to speculate and reflect upon, or 
 for the lighter genius of poetry to wreath with the 
 wild flowers of its fancy.
 
 Slgahii 
 
 PART I. 
 
 " Qtd par de longs malheurs apprit a gouventer." 
 
 HENRIADE. 
 
 Religion ! word, from pole to pole 
 
 The impulse of the yearning soul. 
 
 That springs to find, that longs to be 
 
 Communing with, its Deity ; 
 
 That makes the humble Pariah see 
 
 A God in some wild imagery ; 
 
 Makes the meek Brahmin bless his stream. 
 
 The Moslem of his houris dream, 
 
 The Persian raise his mystic rod 
 
 To his all beauteous roses' God ; 
 /I 
 
 B
 
 AGABUS ; 
 
 Makes the old soilless Hebrew stand 
 The wonderment of every land, 
 And guides upon his narrow path 
 The Christian in his spotless faith. 
 
 Yet few there are who love to dwell 
 
 Within thy solitary cell ; 
 
 Or spring to claim thy holy power, 
 
 Until their summer sunset hour : 
 
 Few are who know how thou canst bless 
 
 The heart with unbreathed happiness ; 
 
 Few whose dull earthly eye can see 
 
 Thy power to set the captive free ; 
 
 Few know the charm thy blessings hold, 
 
 To turn the iron chain to gold ; 
 
 Or see thee raise the bough once broke 
 
 By some fierce lightning's burning stroke. 
 
 But thou art near in wood and vale, 
 
 And writest on each leaf thy tale — 
 
 Aye ! on the grass-blade of the sod 
 
 Thou teilest of thy living God ! 
 
 And wave on wave upon that sea
 
 OR, THE LAST OF THE DRUIDS. 3 
 
 Conies speaking of thy Deity. 
 From Time's primeval birth, thv Hfe 
 Has been with sacred virtue rife. 
 
 Thought, waken up, with trumpet blast, 
 The sleeping ages of the past ! 
 Dark hours, return, and let us tread 
 Our steps amongst the living dead ! 
 Go, search the old oak grove, and there 
 The Druid kneels in silent prayer. 
 Making the starry hosts above 
 The messengers of heavenly love. 
 
 Augia ! (l) — yes, the warmest pulses start 
 As thy loved name comes chiming on the heart, 
 Cherish'd by beauty ! — On thy emerald breast 
 The Druid found a genial spot of rest : 
 When all was lost, and glory's last blood shed, 
 This was the pillow for his dying head. 
 Thy wooded grove, thy little flow'ry vale. 
 Where young springs murmur forth some fond, fond 
 tale, 
 
 B 2
 
 4 AGABUS ; 
 
 Of birds that come beside their silvery stream. 
 Their dreams of love in solitude to dream : 
 Or see where Echo sits within her cave. 
 Repeating the loved voice of her loved wave ; 
 Or mark the giant rock that dares the storm. 
 As ocean springs in ocean's wildest form. 
 Dashing the madden'd surges from its breast. 
 To crown with foam its giant conqueror's crest. 
 Turns and returns for ever in its might, 
 And glories in its field of frenzied fight. 
 
 Here the spurned Druid when an outcast fled. 
 And found a shelter for his dying head ; 
 Breathed in his sunset hour his sunny creed. 
 And turned in peace his starry faith to read 
 In its own heavenly page, where he could see 
 Those brighter worlds, wherein he was to be 
 A brighter being than earth's cold son of ill — 
 A brighter being, yet a Druid (2) still ! 
 This the last spot that knew the Druid's name ; 
 Ours the last stones that told the Druid's fame ; 
 And let it be our little island's pride,
 
 OR, THE LAST OF THE DRUIDS. 5 
 
 That on its shores (3) the last old Druids died. 
 Beneath them lies yet many a mouldering grave 
 Of altars buried, their loved shrines to save ; 
 And Time shall wrest yet from the ages' gloom 
 Many an altar, and long cherish'd tomb. 
 
 But let us turn, and with a mimic light 
 
 Tread through the groves and shades of Druid night ; 
 
 Behold the spot where those old trees 
 
 Bend to the ocean's angry breeze. 
 
 Which the stone priestess in her might. 
 
 Has from the holy rock (4) of light 
 
 Call'd wildly up from off the deep 
 
 Across the wooded grove to sweep. 
 
 'Tis night, and all calm nature sleeps. 
 Save the lone Druid, who now keeps 
 His midnight watch upon the fire 
 Of that rock's mystic fearful pyre ; 
 And in the Grove (5) another's eye 
 Is raised towards the speaking sky. 
 Watching some new star's coming birth.
 
 6 AGABUS ; 
 
 Heralding some proud name to earth. 
 
 One who shall be his country's boast. 
 
 Some leader of a mighty host. 
 
 Or, haply, one small orb of light 
 
 Sparkles a moment on his sight. 
 
 Then shrinks behind that cloud's dark veil — 
 
 A momentary passing tale, 
 
 That tells, some infant with blest wing 
 
 Hastes on to Heaven's eternal spring. 
 
 Say, why did nature call it here, 
 
 To breathe one sigh, to shed one tear ? 
 
 Sweet innocent ! why wert thou given, 
 
 But to moan one small moan for Heaven ? 
 
 " I came that when I left the earth 
 
 In my serene, blest angel birth, 
 
 A spirit's holy breath might fall 
 
 Upon the opening coronal 
 
 Of Spring's young flower-buds, and be 
 
 The messenger of purity, 
 
 To tell them to throw oiF their sadness, 
 
 And sprinkle earth with gems of gladness."
 
 OR, THE LAST OF THE DRUIDS. 
 
 At summer's eve young angels come, 
 
 Floating about their mortal home ; 
 
 In the soft silence of its night. 
 
 From heaven to earth they wing their flight ; 
 
 And take the flowers' mingled cup 
 
 Of pure and holy sweetness up 
 
 To Heaven — blest off"ering of worth, 
 
 The sole pure offering of earth. 
 
 They know the silent language known 
 By flowers, by sinless flowers alone ! 
 With which they breathe a prayer all blest, 
 Mingled with incense of their breast- 
 Such prayer as man can never know, 
 A prayer unmix'd with sin or woe. 
 Oh ! yes, oft nature, hush'd in rest, 
 Waits those young angels of the blest. 
 Who come with thoughts from Heaven above, 
 To give to those their spirits love ; 
 And in these silent, short, blest hours, 
 Their path is o'er the sweets of flowers. 
 
 But, Rigel, watch thy charge this night ; 
 For how it burns with lurid light !
 
 AGABUS ; 
 
 See how it feasts upon that brand ! 
 
 Nay, turn not to that naked strand ; 
 
 Nought but the sea- crab wanders there, 
 
 Scared by the witch-fire's crimson glare. 
 
 Why turn again ? Why turn and start ? 
 
 Is it the instinct of the heart, 
 
 That springs it knows not, dreams not, why. 
 
 Unless it be — 'tis destiny ! 
 
 As trembling turns the needle still, 
 
 Even in unconsciousness of will ? 
 
 But something floats upon that sea. 
 Fixing his thought's intensity ; 
 It seems to shrink before the storm — 
 The vision bears a female form. 
 But who can, so devoid of power, 
 Seek this lone shore at this lone hour ? 
 Sure, 'tis some fancy of the brain ! 
 But, no ! there ! there ! — it floats again. 
 As if it linger'd for some grave 
 Of mercy in that sable wave. 
 Yet, see, that mariner's firm hand 
 Can well his fragile bark command :
 
 OR, THE LAST OF THE DRUIDS. 
 
 Another effort, and they reach 
 The landing of La Roque's wild beach. 
 One word was all they seem'd to say ; 
 And springing through the dashing spray. 
 The boat and boatmen both are gone, 
 And there that wanderer stands alone. 
 Rigel, beware I Aye, turn : beware ! 
 Ahriman sends some tempter there : 
 Heed not that trembling one, or thou 
 May'st turn apostate to thy vow ; 
 Go, tend and watch that omen-fire, 
 Mark how its lingering flames expire ; 
 Thy record must be true and clear 
 For the Arch-Druid's secret ear. 
 
 But, see ! that shrinking form of fear 
 
 Now bends as if it bent in prayer ; 
 
 As if it deem'd this would not be 
 
 The truth of dread reality ; 
 
 Now stands as if some lightning's shock 
 
 Had made her portion of that rock. 
 
 Something now nears her through the gloom ;
 
 10 AGABUS ; 
 
 'Tis a white spirit of the tomb ! 
 
 She cannot fly : 'tis nearer I near ! 
 
 She stands immovable in fear. 
 
 Yet its step echoes on the beach ; 
 
 It speaks, how gentle is its speech ! — 
 
 " Young child of grief — for grief must be. 
 
 To bring thee o'er this dangerous sea, 
 
 Without apparent friend or home 
 
 To shelter thee when thou art come ! 
 
 Nay, fear me not ! My gods shall be 
 
 Thy safeguard and security. — 
 
 By the great brazen (6) bull I swear. 
 
 Nought shall molest e'en one small hair 
 
 Of thy fair head : believe — aye, see, — 
 
 Man trembles more at one like thee." 
 
 But e'en his words of truth and care 
 
 Seem'd to add torture to despair. 
 
 She look'd as though thought would not think ; 
 
 And shrinking as some worm might shrink. 
 
 Self seem'd from self to try and spring, 
 
 While yet she tried round self to cling ; 
 
 Clasping her heart, she tried to press
 
 OR, THE LAST OF THE DRUIDS. 11 
 
 Its throb as she stood motionless ; 
 
 And seem'd to pray her weak hands' grasp, 
 
 To clasp herself with firmer clasp ; 
 
 As if her small, weak trembling arm 
 
 Was her sole fragile shield from* harm. 
 
 At length with words whose choking breath 
 
 Seem'd like the broken voice of death. 
 
 And look that told, she felt the worst 
 
 Upon her fated head had burst, — 
 
 Therefore 'twere best at once to die, 
 
 Than linger in this agony, — 
 
 She tum'd, and, like a being of stone. 
 
 She spoke in calm and solemn tone : 
 
 " Thy gods ! Oh ! mine, to thee I bow ; 
 
 Protect me ! Oh ! protect me now ! 
 
 Thy gods are foreign to my faith. 
 
 Yet I have braved the waves' wild path. 
 
 And to thy stranger island stray 
 
 From one who worships where I pray ! 
 
 And I had hoped to form some cell. 
 
 Within some unknown little dell.
 
 12 AGABUS; 
 
 Far, Druid, from thy rites, and where 
 In loneliness, and quiet prayer 
 Whose orisons should never cease, 
 I might at length have tasted peace. 
 I know thy fearful rites, and see 
 What Heaven's holy will must he, — 
 A martyr for my faith to die. 
 And enter God's blest sanctuary ; 
 A martyr ! Saint ! Virgin, I bow. 
 And bless thee for the glory. Now, 
 Now ! take me to thy priests, thy grove, 
 And I will show them martyrs' love. 
 I am a Christian !" 
 
 Rigel shrank, 
 Before a name so oft had drank 
 His father's and forefathers' blood 
 With glutting joy ; and now he stood 
 Before a daughter of that Faith 
 So oft had strew'd the temple's path 
 With mangled hmbs and choking sighs 
 Of Druids in death's agonies ;
 
 OR, THE LAST OF THE DRUIDS. 13 
 
 And yet he turn'd an anxious eye ; 
 Say, was it fear or sympathy ? 
 " Go, maiden, to that spot ; I dare 
 Not longer leave my sacred care ; 
 And some dark shadows of the pile 
 Have omen'd danger to this isle. 
 But, weak one, — No ! it cannot be 
 That danger lurks in one like thee ! — 
 Go to that hut, say Rigel's name. 
 And that shall for thee shelter claim : 
 Go to those serfs ; they know no earth 
 Beyond the spot that gave them birth ; 
 Nor know the limits of their home : 
 Go, say thou art a wanderer come 
 From far, a child of grief and fear. 
 And ask their pity on thy tear. 
 Tell them the sorrows of thy breast. 
 And theirs they'll offer for its rest. 
 And will their humble kindness press. 
 Blessing their gods that they may bless. 
 But let thy stain'd creed hidden be. 
 Or blood might claim its blood from thee. 
 To send thee lone thus I am loth ;
 
 14 AGABUS ; 
 
 But it were certain death to both. 
 
 If I, a priest of Druid faith. 
 
 Should guard a blood -stain'd Christian's path. 
 
 The Arch- Druid shall not know thee here. 
 
 I'll guard thee with a brother's care. 
 
 And find for thee thv hidden dell, 
 
 Where thou in holy peace shalt dwell. 
 
 And in thy worship shalt be free, 
 
 Protected bv thv God and me." 
 
 Quicker the lightning does not fly 
 
 From that deep-veil'd and hidden sky. 
 
 Its power electric to impart. 
 
 Than love to strike the unguarded heart. 
 
 And Rigel had youth's lesson read. 
 
 Ere back to that wild rock he sped ; 
 
 But, Druid-priest ! this may not be 
 
 Committed to thy memory. 
 
 Go, mark thy mystic omen stone ; 
 
 But, no ! the rock charm now is gone ! 
 
 Rocquebert, thou mount of demons' (< ) home 
 And demon rites ; where shrinking come
 
 OR, THE LAST OF THE DRUIDS. 15 
 
 The stoutest hearts, with steps that cower. 
 As through the midnight's lonely hour 
 They listen to thine orgies' glee 
 And horrid laughter, that the sea 
 Makes music to, as her wild wave 
 Howls o'er the drowning seamen's grave ; 
 While the stone priestess' granite form 
 Sits smiling coldly on the storm ; 
 Guarding, in charms with power replete. 
 The emblem'd victims at her feet ; 
 Throwing her shadow's sable pall 
 Upon that dead grey granite wall. 
 Silent and motionless, anew 
 She charms her mandates on her crew. 
 To spread or quench her fire of ill. 
 At Tubel's sacred temple's will. 
 For its Arch-Druid has the power 
 Even this vestal's pride to lower. 
 For to dread Agabus, whose name 
 Of virtue scares the fiends of flame. 
 The mighty gods such power gave, 
 That even she must be his slave.
 
 16 AGABUS; 
 
 Still now the peasant turns his eye 
 Tremblingly, as he passes by ; 
 And e'en in mid-day scarce can dare 
 Stand by those cloven feet of fear ; 
 And that indented wheel-track could 
 Have ne'er been form'd by power of good. 
 Aye, when beyond the dreaded mound. 
 He yet with fearful look turns round. 
 Ever expecting some strange sight 
 Will rise to prove the witch-rock's might, 
 And doubly hastens on his way 
 Upon the still-known orgies' day. 
 
 But who is he marks Rigel thus ? — 
 
 'Tis the Arch-Druid Agabus ! 
 
 The one whom all look on with love. 
 
 The idol of old Tubel's grove ; 
 
 The fear'd, yet cherish'd one, who all 
 
 Fondly their prince and father call. 
 
 Old Agabus ! — thy silver hair 
 
 To even childhood's heart is dear ; 
 
 And the proud vestals their pride dim.
 
 OR, THE LAST OF THE DRUIDS. 17 
 
 To bend their gentlest looks on him ; 
 And woman, as she passes by, 
 Turns with a smile to meet his eye ; 
 Although his deeply-treasured store 
 Of mystic truths and Sabean lore, 
 And all thy bright gems. Poesy, 
 That come and dew his speaking eye. 
 Make the far-sounding tongue of fame 
 Proudly repeat his temple's name ; 
 For, when the robe of power he took. 
 No blood e'er staiu'd (S) the golden hook. 
 
 Old age ! how beautiful thou art; 
 When Virtue makes a coronet 
 Of thy grey hair, wherein to set 
 Gems that the memories of the heart 
 Have saved that honoured crown to raise. 
 With good deeds done by thee, in long, long bygone 
 days. 
 
 Old age ! death's herald to us all, 
 How beautiful, how bright, e'en now, 
 
 c
 
 18 AGABUS ; 
 
 When still thy virtues speak, and call 
 Man's eye to mark thy placid brow 
 Of truth. More glorious yet by far 
 To watch an old man die, and be what angels are. 
 
 Old age : love's home, not its wild dream. 
 Its calmest hour on life's rough road ; 
 All love to love thee ; for we seem 
 Drawn, by that love, nearer to God. 
 Old age ! how gladly all their task fulfil 
 To turn to thy grey hairs, and bless them still ! 
 
 " Son, thou didst watch the omen fire. 
 
 That burnt last night on Rocquebert's pyre ; 
 
 To me, it seera'd, with red'ning glare. 
 
 To omen danger hovering near : 
 
 But thou, whose duty 'twas to mark 
 
 The changes of its flickering spark. 
 
 Canst tell me how, and where, it flung 
 
 The last blaze of its crimson tongue ? " 
 
 " The charm'd fire's watch was mine last night. 
 
 And fearful was its lurid light ;
 
 OR, THE LAST OF THE DRUIDS. 19 
 
 The sparks that bore the sulphur's hue 
 Towards the air-fiends wildly flew ; 
 The flame then bent its burning crest. 
 Then wreathed around the corpse's breast, 
 Then sprung again towards the shore. 
 And died. — Father, I know no more." 
 " What ! know no more ? Thou dost not name 
 The deepest omen of the flame. 
 Why, thy all ever-faithful eye 
 Is guilty of strange treachery ; 
 I for a moment stood and gazed 
 Upon the furnace as it blazed ; 
 I mark'd the Christian's cross was still 
 Upon his breast. Thou didst my will. 
 And let the stifi'en'd body lay 
 As the wave wash'd it in our bay ; 
 Didst thou not see the beacon's crest 
 Go sweep across the Christian's breast, 
 And then a veil of darkness spread 
 Upon the eyelids of the dead } 
 Rigel, thy young eye must be taught 
 To rest where thou shouldst rest thy thought ; 
 
 c 2
 
 20 AGABUS ; 
 
 And thoughts themselves will turn and rest 
 On what is dearest to their breast. 
 Nay, blush not ! I have known thy youth. 
 And know thee, son, the child of truth, 
 Who would no more thy watch forsake 
 Than I forget thy peace to make, 
 Wlaen aught has happened to inspire 
 The vestal Vega's holy ire. 
 And, doubtless, 'twas some astral ray 
 That turn'd thy watchful eye away, 
 And led thy curious thoughts to try 
 And read some strange new destiny. 
 Rigel, my son, 'twas thoughtless, wrong, 
 But I myself have once been young, 
 And know well how the mind can fly. 
 In that bright spring-tide's buoyancy ; 
 But too light yet is thy green thought 
 For truths sage Taliesin (9) taught : 
 And age informs me, man must turn 
 To dull experience, there to learn. 
 In its hard school of hope and fear, 
 And chequer'd page of joy and care.
 
 OR, THE LAST OF THE DRUIDS. 21 
 
 That we must fold youth's soaring wing. 
 
 And merely tread the path assign'd ; 
 That here is no eternal spring. 
 
 Or setless sunshine of the mind ; 
 But youth, with soaring pinion spread, 
 
 Deems not its feather e'er can stop, 
 And flies towards its rainbow, made 
 
 In every beauteous hue of hope. 
 But rainbow colours pass away ; 
 
 The eagle's wing grows weary still ; 
 And thou thyself, my son, one day 
 
 Must bend thine to the Almighty's will. 
 Then let thy mind's eye turn, and seize 
 
 Those treasures where God bids it rest ; 
 For He, Creative Essence, sees 
 
 The secrets of each human breast." 
 
 What meant he ? does my secret dwell 
 
 Within his bosom ? It is well, 
 
 I will at once conceal my prize 
 
 Far from the old man's watchful eyes : 
 
 Or was it conscience that awoke.
 
 22 AGABUS ; 
 
 When thus in warning voice he spoke — 
 " I'll guard her, aye ! I will ! I must ! 
 Belus thyself shalt judge my trust." 
 
 The stars are fading from the sky 
 
 Before their coming Deity, 
 
 And rested Nature wakes anew. 
 
 Her blooming labours to pursue. 
 
 The serfs are risen : first they pray, 
 
 And kneel before the dawning day. 
 
 Then kiss, in simple gratitude. 
 
 The earth, the giver of their food ; 
 
 Then, softly treading, gently go 
 
 To watch their sleeping child of woe. 
 
 But she is gone 1 her leafy bed 
 
 But scarcely prest on, still is spread ; 
 
 And all, all powerless are they 
 
 To guess her steps, or track her way ! 
 
 They search the wood, the vale, the coast, 
 
 But their strange guest is gone, is lost : 
 
 And to them had that wanderer come, 
 
 In Rigel's name, to seek a home ;
 
 t 
 OR, THE LAST OF THE DRUIDS. 23 
 
 And he was one ne'er fain to be 
 Deluded with impunity. 
 And what to them would Rigel say } 
 Whose name they heard but to obey. 
 The iron (lu) collar that they wore 
 The vassal badge of Rigel bore. 
 What think of Roaul and his care ? 
 Rigel, to them a name so dear, 
 For his young infant cradle nest 
 Had been that serf's own mother's breast, 
 And both, within the sacred grove, 
 Had drunk the fountain of her love, 
 For the dark hour gave Rigel breath, 
 Closed its fond giver's eye in death ; 
 E'en did not to her look accord 
 To see him kiss (ll) his father's sword, 
 And the proud archive (12) chest was full 
 With many a valiant warrior's scull. 
 And Agabus, the loved I the good ! 
 Had called within the sacred wood 
 These serfs, to rear beneath his eye 
 That lonely boy's first infancy.
 
 24 AGABUS ; 
 
 But sooner can the iceberg flow. 
 Or marble kindle into glow, 
 Than the cold heart of selfish steel, 
 So warmly beat, or warmly feel. 
 
 Agabus wanders through the wood, 
 Reading its leafy page of God, 
 His glorious works ! but his feet stay. 
 See what has stopped him on his way — 
 It is a beautiful fair sunny child. 
 With floating eye, blue, deep, and mild ; 
 Not more had nature placed it there 
 To aid its sight, than help its prayer ; 
 His wild but stiffly curling curl 
 Were a meet setting for a pearl ; 
 The trembling on his lip that play'd. 
 For love's own purest kiss was made ; 
 His sunny smile, and little sigh. 
 Were innocency's ecstacy ; 
 While his light buoyant laugh of mirth 
 Told his unconsciousness of earth.
 
 OR, THE LAST OF THE DRUIDS. 25 
 
 " Alfred, my child, what have you there. 
 You watch with look of so much care, 
 Of what is thy young mind so full ? 
 Sweet one, thy rose is beautiful ! " 
 
 " I want this idle butterfly. 
 Father, to spread its wings and fly. 
 That I mav see it, and mav run. 
 And chase its blue wing in the sun." 
 
 " Darling, 'tis dead, thy wish is vain." 
 
 " Then, father, make it live again, 
 Albert says all things thou canst do. 
 And brother always tells me true." 
 
 The old man paused, and fondly smiled 
 Upon the little sunny child. 
 
 " Oh, father, make it live, and stay 
 With our flowers every day.
 
 26 AGABUS ; 
 
 And every morning 1 will come 
 And watch it on its rosy home." 
 
 If Heaven that beauteous eye should close, 
 'Twould rest upon some fadeless rose. 
 
 " Darling, I cannot make it live, 
 It is but God who life can give. 
 Or to retake it has the power. 
 From even that small fly or flower ; 
 Yet flowers to do his loved will try, 
 Though 'tis alone to bloom and die." 
 
 " But why do flowers Hve, since they 
 But only live to die away ?" 
 
 " Sweet child ! that thy young heart may know, 
 
 By seeing how the flowers grow 
 
 Without man's help, or even care. 
 
 That God is good, and every where. 
 
 To try and hide from Him is vain. 
 
 And when He wants us back again,
 
 OR, THE LAST OF THE DRUIDS. 27 
 
 He tells our eye to shut, be dim. 
 And then, love, we go back to Him. 
 His are we even from our birth, 
 He only lends us to the earth ; 
 The earth is always here, but we 
 Go on to God's eternity ; 
 Where we are now we cannot stay. 
 When He calls we must all obey : 
 He made that butterfly there rest 
 And die within that rose's breast. 
 And one day, like that little fly. 
 Love, He will bid thee rest and die. 
 And if His message, innocent. 
 Be by some angel early sent, 
 As softly may est thou repose 
 As thy loved blue fly on thy rose. 
 And be a cup pure, undefiled, 
 A rose-bud of thy God, my child." 
 
 The little darling innocent 
 
 Seem'd pondering what the old man meant. 
 
 Then breathed a little heavy sigh. 
 
 And answered, with a tearful eye, —
 
 28 AGABUS. 
 
 " No, father, no ! Oh do not say 
 I'll turn into a flower some day. 
 Oh do not turn me to a rose ! 
 Not even such a rose as this ; 
 For, though so beautiful it grows, 
 It does not seem to know a kiss, 
 Its colours never brighter glow. 
 Its leaf is still as 'twas before. 
 Father ! I know not why, but know 
 I'm happier, I'm something more 
 Than a mere pretty rose like this is. 
 For when your lip is on my cheek, 
 I know it, though you may not speak. 
 Father, that love is meant by kisses." 
 
 But, lo ! another butterfly 
 Has caught again his sparkling eye ; 
 Wildly he press'd the old man's brow. 
 And flew to his new prize, and now 
 Ofi^ with his new-born hopes he ran — 
 Typing the life of older man.
 
 PART II. 
 
 " Vous ne m'entendrez point amant foible etjaloux 
 En reproche honteux eclater contre rous." 
 
 ZAIRE. 
 
 Old Druid grove ! old, old oak trees ! 
 Where Love its own dream's shadow sees ; 
 Where it can, with its pencil free. 
 Picture its mind's bright imagery ; 
 Where it can wander, hope, and fear. 
 And smile away its own-form'd tear ; 
 Where it can let its full pulse swell. 
 With none to watch it, none to tell ; 
 Where grief can sigh its sigh, or where 
 The pure in heart can breathe their prayer ;
 
 30 AGABUS ; 
 
 Spots to the world unseen, unknown, 
 Where the soul turns to stray alone. 
 Sweet (13) Tubel ! thy all-beauteous grove 
 May serve for prayer, grief, or love ; 
 Here Eelus comes to shuie, and gaze 
 Upon his shrine of sacred praise ; 
 For in that oak wood's verdant path 
 Is the loved altar of his faith. 
 Nestled within the fairest part 
 Of Tubel's venerated heart ; 
 And many a sacred nook is there, 
 Where priests unseen repeat their prayer. 
 Or watch at midnight-hour the sky. 
 To read the page of destiny ; 
 Or, lingering, pause, and rest awhile. 
 O'er some strange idle thought to smile ; 
 Some thought that tries its power to bind, 
 Uncall'd, around the unconscious mind. 
 
 The Vestal Vega, proud, lone one, 
 But only proud since she was lone, 
 (Pride ! shield of woman's anxious care. 
 Often the segis of despair,
 
 OK, THE LAST OF THE DRUIDS. lil 
 
 With which she hides her love, her gloom. 
 
 Her weakness, her heart's hidden tomb ;) 
 
 Vega, whom none can read, whose soul 
 
 Bends to no human being's control ; 
 
 Whose ardent soul, of quenchless flame, 
 
 No power can stay — no power can tame ; 
 
 Vega the ardent and the wild. 
 
 Ever to Agabus a child. 
 
 Now in forgetfulness of pride. 
 
 Kneels by her loved Arch-Druid's side ; 
 
 And on her brow there seems a glow 
 
 Of anger mingling with her woe ; 
 
 In all intensity 'tis there : 
 
 'Tis Vega, or 'twould picture fear. 
 
 "Agabus, my sovereign priest. 
 Thou knowest, to the very least 
 Of thy sage laws I bend the knee ; 
 Aye, thy mere wish is law to me. 
 And when by mystic rules I try 
 Some holy charm or augury, 
 I ever mingle with the flame 
 Thy aged, loved, thy virtuous name ;
 
 32 AGABUS ; 
 
 For then I know no power of ruth 
 
 Can dim the charm or augur's truth ; 
 
 But, Agabus, I one have tried. 
 
 And seen a serpent by thy side ; 
 
 And fearful omens followed on 
 
 This strange, this fearful, dreaded one ; 
 
 The gold (14) upon the temple's floor 
 
 Seem'd changed to blood-stain'd iron ore ; 
 
 The living (15) stone was wrapt in gloom, 
 
 Portentous of some coming doom ; 
 
 Again, at the dark midnight hour. 
 
 My incantation's holy power 
 
 Has raised one from the mighty dead. 
 
 Has told of danger o'er thy head. 
 
 And show'd our grove-trees wither'd, lone, 
 
 And pointed to the Peulven (l(i) stone. 
 
 Round which a snake had coil'd its length, 
 
 Then flew, and, with wing'd demon strength, 
 
 Into our Tubel's temple sprung. 
 
 With lightning flashing from its tongue. 
 
 And in its vengeful, crested head 
 
 Was Rigel's crouching eye of lead. 
 
 Thy heart forbids thine eye to see
 
 OR, THE LAST OF THE DRUIDS. 33 
 
 E'en but the shade of treachery, 
 
 Loved sage ! But in thy wisdom's store 
 
 Of deep, all deep Sabean lore. 
 
 Read as thou wilt, thou canst not scan 
 
 That deeper page, the heart of man. 
 
 I have watch'd Rigel, watch'd him long. 
 
 His heart is guilty ; something wrong 
 
 Lurks in the chambers of his breast. 
 
 I saw him in the grove at rest. 
 
 But yester eve ; his knitted brow. 
 
 Although he slept, was bending low. 
 
 As if he listen'd to some dream 
 
 Of demon's voice, or demon's scream ; 
 
 Some passion nothing could control 
 
 Was struggling in his inmost soul; 
 
 He breathed a name unknown to us, 
 
 Then smiled one smile, but, Agabus, 
 
 'Twas but a lightning one, no more ; 
 
 His brow grew darker than before ; 
 
 Then his clench'd hand, and swollen breath, 
 
 Seem'd meditating deeds of death ; 
 
 And, as he slept upon the road, 
 
 D
 
 34 AGABUS ; 
 
 Swelling beside him watch'd a toad ; 
 Could I have crush'd them with my eye, 
 That hour had seen the reptiles die." 
 
 " Hush, Vega ! hush ! not this to me. 
 
 Who represent my deity. 
 
 Thy griefs have made thee wayward, wild ; 
 
 But be forgiven, deep'Soul'd child : 
 
 Oppression 'tis has made thee wake. 
 
 And see in every path a snake. 
 
 And ever is thy heart in fear 
 
 For what, my child, to thee is dear ; 
 And whom thy love its light has made. 
 Would guard from e'en a shadow's shade : 
 Thy soul defies the power of time. 
 But groundless fear is next to crime ; 
 For 'tis to doubt the watchful eye 
 Of Him whose love is ever by." 
 
 •' Rigel's dark heart stands not alone; 
 The world has many another one. 
 Agabus, I have mark'd him near ;
 
 OR, THE LAST OF THE DRUIDS. 35 
 
 Watch thee with ice-bound, iron glare : 
 Go if thou wilt, the rock's base move ; 
 But what can shake a woman's love ? 
 When urged by her deep pulses' start, 
 She guards the treasure of her heart ; 
 Who knows what links that love will own, 
 In beings, in things, in words unknown ? 
 Enough to know 'tis my will's choice 
 To guard thy weal — let that suffice." 
 
 Vega, wild Vega 
 
 " Yes, I'm wild ; 
 But, Agabus, I am thy child ; 
 Such I have lived, and such will die, 
 I deem it high-born destiny ; 
 Child of this temple and this grove, 
 The birth, the death place of my love." 
 
 " Then my own child, be calm, be still, 
 And listen to thy father's will ; 
 Hear what his lips of love would say, 
 
 D 2
 
 36 AGABUS ; 
 
 And, Vega, as my child obey. 
 
 Learn to see nought but good below. 
 
 For our sun — God's glorious glow — 
 
 Shines to shed good on every hour ; 
 
 Let us then imitate His power, 
 
 And shed good, see good, deem all worth 
 
 That He has form'd upon this earth. 
 
 Suspicion is the dull damp cave 
 
 Where the weak forge their arms, to save 
 
 Themselves from some dread coming blow 
 
 They never are to see or know ; 
 
 Aye, more ! its dead light is the ray 
 
 That tempts the treacherous to betray. 
 
 My heart, from cold suspicion save it ! 
 
 When danger comes, the brave can brave it ; 
 
 And Rigel's strange, unspeaking mood, 
 
 Vega, suits not thy warmer blood ; 
 
 But earth were dull, and still, and tame, 
 
 Were every flower that bloom'd the same ; 
 
 The sun's own ever-beauteous ray 
 
 Seems loveliest at the birth of day ; 
 
 And day would soon be tedious light
 
 OR, THE LAST OF THE DRUIDS. .'$7 
 
 Did we ne'er see the shades of night ; 
 E'en joy itself would pall and cloy, 
 But for the tear's and sigh's alloy. 
 
 " Vega, look round this grove so fair. 
 
 There's nought but prayer and praises here ; 
 
 Could that sublime wild scene ai-ound 
 
 Speak to its God in utter'd sound, 
 
 Deep as itself, its voice would be 
 
 One of such stern solemnity, 
 
 As every supplication low 
 
 And full was breathed in utterance slow ; 
 
 Or, when in hallelujahs raised. 
 
 Had been so glorious when it praised ; — 
 
 That man — whose consciousness of wrong 
 
 Must ever make his prayer, his song. 
 
 Moan through the ruins of his breast, 
 
 A faltering, trembling thing at best, — 
 
 Had shrunk before warm nature's sense, 
 
 Ashamed at his own utterance ; 
 
 Had vainly tried his plaint to pour, 
 
 And lost the power to adore ;
 
 38 AGABUS ; 
 
 His heart abash'd had sunk unstrung. 
 And muteness ever seal'd his tongue. 
 
 " Listen, my child, and when I am no more. 
 
 What I would tell thee now in memory store : 
 
 Ponder it well and often ; it may prove, 
 
 Vega, the last fond lesson of my love. 
 
 Long did I search for happiness ; but where. 
 
 Where was its home upon this earthly sphere ? 
 
 Did it, unseen, with silent Nature rest .'' 
 
 Or was its dwelling in man's hidden breast ? 
 
 I asked the Sea, the glad unfetter'd sea ! 
 
 Does Happiness, bright Ocean, dwell with thee } 
 
 A broken mast upon a coming wave 
 
 Was all the answer its wild waters gave. 
 
 I ask'd the Earth, — the Earth's reply was brief ; 
 
 A wither'd bough dropp'd me its yellow leaf. 
 
 I ask'd the Sky, — the sky was pure and bright, — 
 
 Say does it dwell in thy pure realms of light ? 
 
 A dark cloud gathering hover'd o'er my head, 
 
 And its reply in one wild bolt was sped. 
 
 I ask'd the Living Creatures all ; but they
 
 OR, THE LAST OF THE DRUIDS. 39 
 
 Answer'd, ' We each one are another's prey.' 
 
 I came to Man, and each loved passion tried. 
 
 And every passion thus in turn rephed. 
 
 I ask'd Ambition, — Say dost thou possess 
 
 The mystic charm of spotless happiness ? 
 
 Ambition's lofty eye of fire bent down 
 
 Heaved a deep sigh, and show'd her iron crown. 
 
 Pleasure, with thy bright crystal cup, dost thou 
 
 To man the boon of happiness bestow ? 
 
 She answer'd not : o'er that cup's dregs she slept ; 
 
 But e'en in sleep her trembling eyehds wept. 
 
 Fame, to thy trumpet's summons does it come ? 
 
 Fame show'd a sparkle on a torrent's foam. 
 
 I ask'd the Miser ; he made no reply. 
 
 But clutch'd his gold, and struggled not to die. 
 
 Glory — I look'd ; she vainly tried to clear 
 
 Her spotted sword-blade of an orphan's tear. 
 
 Love, is its gem within thy sacred bower ? 
 
 I turn'd. Love's tear bedew'd a fading flower. 
 
 Hope I next sought, a rainbow chain'd her eye, 
 
 It melted as she pointed to the sky. 
 
 Memory, in thy strange web say is it spun }
 
 40 AGABUS ; 
 
 She raised an hour-glass — its bright sands were 
 
 run. 
 I saw Religion, as I call'd, start — tremble ! 
 ' Speak not thus loud,' she said, 'thus men dissemble ; 
 And can the stream of happiness e'er flow 
 From cold dissimulation's waters ? — No.' 
 My tones appear'd her holiness to crush, 
 She bent her head, and shrank within her blush. 
 Can happiness but a mere dream be ? can 
 No happiness be found on earth for man ? 
 Where, oh ! where seek that pure seal'd spring so 
 
 blest ? 
 An angel pass'd, he pointed to my breast ; 
 His words were few, and hallow'd with a tear ; 
 I turn'd, and sought it where he said. 
 And smiling raised my bow'd-down head. 
 I found it there. 
 
 ' To daily do some good, to daily bless. 
 
 This is pure Nature's creed, this, this is happiness ! 
 
 Go, do thou likewise, imitate thy God, 
 
 And strew the crumbs of mercy on life's road.'
 
 OR, THE LAST OF THE DRUIDS. 41 
 
 " Vega, my Vega, I'm an old man now ; 
 
 Time's hand has seam'd these furrows on my brow, 
 
 That tell life's plough has plough'd me deep, and 
 
 show 
 Their simple warning, that I soon must go 
 To our higher world, our changeless home ; 
 Life's sunset is at hand — soon, soon 'twill come ; 
 But when to earth my eye looks down in blindness. 
 Think of the old man, Vega, think with kindness ; 
 For years and years, with pure and holy pride, 
 We served this sacred temple side by side ; 
 Vega, the time is nearing when I must 
 Give back to earth her only gift, her dust. 
 Thou art a woman. Manhood, youth, old age. 
 All turn to thee, upon their pilgrimage, 
 To bless them still. The warrior lays aside 
 His sword, and scabbards it with quiet pride ; 
 Science can close her book, nor deem it vain 
 For happiness, nor heed its page again ; 
 But woman, blesser of our destiny. 
 We cannot ever part from, turn from thee ;
 
 42 AGABUS ; 
 
 The meek, the proud, the timid, and the brave. 
 Covet thy love, even beyond the grave. 
 Then, Vega, when I die, this hope fulfil. 
 Think, oh, think kindly of the old man still." 
 
 Belle Croute, gem of the Druid's isle, 
 Whose smile is infancy's soft smile ; 
 Sweet creek ! thv banks the fairies' home. 
 Thy tide but where the fay-boats come ; 
 Thy verdant trees, that bend to greet 
 The surge's homage at their feet ; 
 And thy ever- dancing wave, 
 The young wild flowers' sparkling grave, 
 "Whose buds the breeze bears on the sea. 
 To write in Nature's poesy. 
 That ever-retold tale, how brief 
 Is th' existence of her leaf ! 
 Well may thy little, hidden grove 
 Be home for holiness or love. 
 Within that pathless, tangled wood. 
 Whose young leaves kiss the rising flood.
 
 OR, THE LAST OF THE DRUIDS. 43 
 
 A serf's low hut of peace and rest 
 
 Is built beneath the warbler's nest ; 
 
 To him the water from his well 
 
 Was sweeter than the hydromel (17) ; 
 
 For vengeance (18) never waken'd up 
 
 Its passion from that crystal cup. 
 
 The trophies (19) on his humble door. 
 
 The owlet's grey wing, and no more ; 
 
 His rough-form'd pipe (20) alone was heard 
 
 By his own home, or some wild bird ; 
 
 And he himself is one as wild 
 
 As Nature's own unfetter'd child ; 
 
 To him this little spot is dear, 
 
 For all he loves are centred here ; 
 
 And for them amulet and charm 
 
 Are his rough, fond, encircling arm ; 
 
 Even the Druid and his right 
 
 Were but strange visions to his sight. 
 
 Nought of their rites he understood. 
 
 Deeming his Nature's creed as good. 
 
 He heeds not what the sage reveals ; 
 
 He knows but this — he lives, he feels !
 
 44 AGABUS ; 
 
 Cherishing his all-unknown grove, 
 For there in peace his heart may love. 
 In Nature's home his pulse is free 
 To live in plain simplicity. 
 He drinks the sunshine of the lone, 
 And heeds none, seeks none, but his own ; 
 Yet feels he is a being above 
 The timid creatures of his grove ; 
 Feels, from mere instinct, there must be 
 A something that must bend his knee -, 
 Bows to some star he thinks will keep 
 Its eye on his loved while they sleep ; 
 And in his brighter mid- day faith 
 Bends to that sun who strews his path 
 With flowers, — to his own god of day, — 
 And prays, because his heart must pray. 
 
 And here conceal'd she rests unseen. 
 That wanderer of La Roque's strange scene; 
 For ere the dawn its light had shed. 
 Tremblingly from that spot she fled. 
 And here, exhausted, from the shore
 
 OR, THE LAST OF THE DRUIDS. 45 
 
 The serf the senseless sufferer bore ; 
 And gently bid the trembler cease 
 Her tear within his home of peace ; 
 For, unknown to the world, none would 
 E'er pierce this hidden solitude ; 
 All that he cared to know was shown — 
 She was in sorrow, and alone. 
 Helpless, without one to defend, 
 A woman, and without a friend. 
 
 Her leaf bed seems of down to be ; 
 
 For pillow'd by security, 
 
 Fear now need not her watches keep. 
 
 To scare the tired lid from sleep. 
 
 That little spiry (21) roof to her 
 
 Is compass of the mariner ; 
 
 For its rush'd point in that wood's nest 
 
 Had led her to its home of rest. 
 
 But love — whose needle of the mind 
 Turns and returns again to find 
 The spot of its loved hidden goal,
 
 46 AGABUS ; 
 
 That strange, strange loadstone of the soul, — 
 Has wander'd and re-wander'd far. 
 Until at last some guiding star 
 Leads it to that bright dell or grove 
 Where rests the magnet of its love. 
 And, Rigel, thou at last hast found 
 Thy breast's own consecrated ground. 
 That to the virorld unknown retreat. 
 That has in every heart its seat, 
 Where earthly love, oft wildly driven. 
 Kneels to what's earth, and deems it heaven. 
 And to its deity of clay 
 Repeats the serf's idolatry. 
 
 Oft Rigel's evening's task forgot. 
 He wanders to this cherish'd spot. 
 Or leaves some mystic rite half done. 
 To fly to his loved lonely one : 
 To read those timid looks have proved 
 His heart is shared, himself is loved ; 
 He feels now, let what clouds will lower, 
 A double self in love and power ;
 
 OR, THE LAST OF THE DRUIDS. 47 
 
 For man without love's blessing spring 
 Is but a half-created thing. 
 
 " Annette, see that bright sparkling beam. 
 
 Throwing its pale calm heavenly stream 
 
 Of holy light around us here. 
 
 As if it bent a listening ear. 
 
 And ask'd the perfumed dew to bring 
 
 Thy tale of grief upon its wing ! 
 
 Loved ! — did thy Rigel only know 
 
 Aught of that sacred tale of woe. 
 
 He'd tell that star — for blest were he 
 
 Could he call one bright beam on thee 
 
 Thy heart to soothe ! — thy tears to stay ; 
 
 Like winter sunshine's gentle spell. 
 That comes to warm and melt away 
 
 The cold tear from the snowdrop's beU." 
 
 " To doubt the generous soul would bless. 
 Is but the crush'd heart's bitterness ; 
 Thou canst not do me weal. I must 
 Not take such from thee ; but will trust 
 Thy faithful ear, to hear my tale.
 
 48 AGABUS ; 
 
 Though nought that candour can avail. 
 
 Vow'd by my mother to my God, 
 
 I grew in his all holy road. 
 
 The convent's soft bell long rung clear 
 
 Upon my childhood's listening ear ; 
 
 And young enthusiasm would fly, 
 
 In its unconscious piety, 
 
 To answer to that holy bell. 
 
 And its bright rosary re-tell. 
 
 Oh ! how my little heart has sprung 
 
 To join the anthem, as it flung 
 
 Its glorious hallelujahs high 
 
 Through clouds of incense to the sky. 
 
 E'en now I seem to feel that fear. 
 
 As my young hand with trembling care 
 
 Made the fresh flowers their leaves entwine 
 
 Upon the Virgin's holy shrine. 
 
 Oh ! how I loved my gifts to bring ! 
 
 To me she was a living thing ; 
 
 For childhood cannot deem its prayer 
 
 Address'd to one who cannot hear. 
 
 Aye ! she did hear me : let it be 
 
 Again my childhood's ecstacy.
 
 OR, THE LAST OF THE DRUIDS. 49 
 
 I see that image, and that fane. 
 It blest me, and it will again : 
 Oh ! how I loved to think that spot 
 Would ever be my changeless lot ! 
 How breathlessly I lent my ear. 
 And in my child awe bent to hear 
 Of shrined St. Pothen, and the flood 
 Of holy martyrs' streams of blood ! 
 Oh ! might I but a martyr rest 
 Beside those now all sacred blest. 
 Who dwell now in their heavenly home. 
 By the almighty prayers of Rome, 
 That led them o'er death's hidden road. 
 And canonized them with their God ; 
 Then could I, free from earth's dark taint, 
 Bless those who love me as their saint ! 
 Would watch their prayers and holy flame, 
 And see them mingled with my name. 
 
 " Though the veil bound not yet my brow. 
 Long had my heart breathed forth its vow ; 
 Upon that consecrated ground.
 
 50 AGABUS ; 
 
 I seem'd to feel the utter'd sound 
 That from my lips would one day pour, 
 Was but an empty form, no more ! — 
 A form the worldly ones must see. 
 To tempt them on to piety. 
 
 " My dying father's batter'd shield 
 
 Saved RoUo on the battle-field, 
 
 Who vow'd a father he would prove 
 
 To me in truth and fondest love ; 
 
 And early 'trothed to his heir. 
 
 The generous, the brave Cloitaire ; 
 
 But, no ! I could not, dared not love him, 
 
 Although bright truth and honour prove him 
 
 One whom Love might exult to have 
 
 Subdued into his gentler slave. 
 
 Yes, all that's fond and good and kind, 
 
 Is link'd within his noble mind. 
 
 " And, oh ! I would not do him wrong ; 
 He loves me ! he has loved me long : 
 But mine is like the tranquil flame
 
 OR, THE LAST OF THE DRUIDS. 61 
 
 That shines upon a brother's name ; 
 For wedded to my God from youth, 
 I felt He own'd ray plighted truth, 
 And felt a curse must brand my brow 
 If I had broke that marriage vow ; 
 And rather chose to hither fly, * 
 
 And on the Druid's pile to die 
 A martyr to my God, than be 
 Apostate from my fealty. 
 
 " But truly are my prayers made 
 Daily for Cloitaire in this shade. 
 Oh ! may his footsteps turn aside. 
 To seek some other, fitter bride ; 
 And here within this little dell. 
 This humble hut shall be my cell ; 
 And, Rigel, I shall often there 
 Offer a deep and earnest prayer. 
 That thou some day — " 
 
 " Stop, Annette, stop ! 
 Hope not ! 'tis useless ! do not hope 
 
 E 2
 
 52 AGABUS ; 
 
 To turn me from my starry sky 
 To thy strange Virgin deity." 
 
 How little do we often know 
 
 The depths of our inmost soul ; 
 Or dream a spirit there can grow 
 
 We ne'er shall master or control ! 
 How oft we smile in heedless care 
 
 On some strange pulse we scarcely own, 
 But which one day shall form our prayer, 
 
 While trembling lest that prayer be known ! 
 
 But what wakes sooner love in vouth 
 Than mutual words of holy truth ? 
 And she the trembler seen before. 
 Is the pale trembler now no more. 
 Unless, from some cause hidden, he 
 Should fail his tryst by that old tree. 
 Yet o'er her heart there rests a cloud ; 
 Oh ! may it not become its shroud ! 
 Oh ! may he ! may he find the path 
 Even through her heart to her heart's faith !
 
 OR, THE LAST OF THE DRUIDS. 53 
 
 For 'tis to love a dark day given. 
 When it dares not look up to heaven ; 
 And heart to heart may not be free 
 To speak of their eternity ! 
 But every sunset's coming hour 
 Re-tells the tale of woman's power — 
 That tale of every passing day. 
 Rigel DOW glories to obey : 
 No charm that Agabus e'er knew 
 Bore spell more potent or more true ; 
 Shrinking, he feels his heart grow dim 
 If she but fold her eye from him. 
 
 Man, the all weak when woman pleads ! 
 Man, who to save her gladly bleeds ! 
 To serve her, knows not what is fear ; 
 Yet trembles at her trembling tear ! 
 Man, the all-generous natured ! Man, 
 Say from thy deep heart's depths, who can 
 A better missionary prove 
 Than Woman, with the aid of love ?
 
 34 AGABUS ; 
 
 " Rigel ! dear Rigel ! 'Tis in vain ! 
 
 We may not, must not meet again, 
 
 Unless," — she paused, — " if thou dost love — " 
 
 " If, Annette ! " 
 
 " Well then, Rigel, prove. 
 Prove, my own Rigel, I am loved, 
 By listening to my words, unmoved 
 By anger ; but it could not be 
 Thy heart would kindle such for me ! 
 Rigel ! commission'd from above, 
 I bring thee tidings of such love 
 As never yet was known to beat 
 Within the heart's unseen retreat ; 
 I come to tell thee lore of things 
 Was brought to earth on angels' wings ; 
 Of things all pure, beatified. 
 So holy and so sanctified. 
 That thou must leave thy starry sky, 
 And all its demon mystery ;
 
 OR, THE LAST OF THE DRUIDS. 5S 
 
 Thy incantations' power to harm, 
 Thy misletoe, and serpent's charm, 
 ■ And all their fearful fiendish power. 
 To bless the day-dawn of this hour ; 
 I come to tell of one foretold 
 By prophets and by priests of old, 
 Who, though His day they could not see, 
 Died glorying that it was to be ; 
 And those who heard that infant's cry 
 Their blessings pour'd through tears on high. 
 That infant on earth's cold abode 
 Was who .'' — The universal God, 
 Who came to suffer, bleed, and die. 
 To win us blest eternity ! 
 Thy starry mysteries, what are they } 
 The fearful guides that bid thee stray 
 From the but one, but narrow road. 
 That leads to heaven and to God ; 
 Thy baneful arts and magic fire. 
 Thy fearful all unhallow'd pyre, 
 Rigel, will burn at thy life's goal
 
 56 AGABUS ; 
 
 Thine own imperishable soul. 
 
 Come then at once, for I am sent 
 
 To bid thee be God's penitent : 
 
 God's holy blood has been the price 
 
 To pay for thee the sacrifice ; 
 
 All man must bring is truth sincere, 
 
 With earnest thoughts, and earnest prayer, 
 
 A heart with its contrition broken. 
 
 Thy words of love breathed deep, not spoken. 
 
 With tears to wash away thy load, 
 
 Is all is asked thee of thy God — 
 
 To be, what He would have thee be, 
 
 The child of Christian liberty. 
 
 But, Druid, if my words thou spurnest. 
 
 And to thy fearful rites returnest ; 
 
 If thou wilt blindly 2:1 ve thine eve 
 
 To lifeless cold philosophy ; 
 
 If, obdurate, thou wilt not look 
 
 In Heaven's unseal'd prophetic book, — 
 
 Thy doom shall be that awful flame. 
 
 The all eternally the same.
 
 OR, THE LAST OF THE DRUIDS. 57 
 
 Which shall, unquenching in thy breast. 
 Wake the dread worm that cannot rest. 
 Telling God's message scorn'd, neglected, 
 And the dread pang of God rejected ; 
 And if thou wilt not be forgiven. 
 To take my curse, and that of Heaven. 
 But, Rigel ! Rigel ! all ! all mine ! 
 If thou -wilt w^orship at his shrine." 
 
 Has Rigel drunk of Lethe's stream ? 
 Or is this some wild waking dream ? 
 He breathed no word. — One single flash. 
 That sprung like lightning through his lash. 
 Something to self appear'd to say. 
 And then he coldly turn'd away; 
 Yet back one look of firmness cast : 
 It told — he meant it for the last. 
 
 " Yet see, he turns, and on his brow 
 Appears no angry fearful vow. 
 Can his deep soul have yet forgiven 
 The wrath T call'd on him from heaven ?
 
 58 AGABUS ; 
 
 But, oh, he's gone ! — Death, cease thy strife ! 
 
 For hfe is now no longer life. 
 
 But no, no, no ! oh ! let me be 
 
 E'en in this madd'ning agony. 
 
 Once yet, oh ! let me see him, hear him ! 
 
 (Poor woman's heart !) and feel I'm near 
 
 him ! 
 What fearful chain is round me thrown ? 
 
 Dread thought, canst thou define ? 
 Say, was that fearful word my own ? 
 
 Religion, no, 'twas thine. 
 No, no, this breast is not yet steel'd, 
 
 It could not thence have sprung ; 
 Its bitterness my lip had seal'd. 
 
 And paralyzed my tongue. 
 Yes, Faith, thy voice 'twas breathed the vow, 
 
 Not thou, my startled will ; 
 Oh, no, my heart, it was not thou ; 
 
 For thou art throbbing still." 
 
 The heart with usual coldness rife, 
 That seldom warms itself to life,
 
 OR, THE LAST OF THE DRUIDS. 59 
 
 Can burn with deep volcanic power. 
 Or, roused, will like the tempest tower. 
 Such souls as these 'tis can create 
 From deepest love the deepest hate. 
 
 Rigel, beware, nay, turn not yet : 
 Go learn the lesson, to forget. 
 That lesson to the heart so stern, 
 So sad, so difficult to learn. 
 Go, calcine in thy burning blood. 
 The idol in thy thought that stood ; 
 Oh, better never rear a flower. 
 If it must die by lightning's power. 
 Best never taste the sweeten'd spell. 
 If we must drink the dregs as well. 
 
 " Yes, I will see her once — but once. 
 
 And then for ever will renounce 
 
 Her love — will tear her from my heart, 
 
 And then for ever, ever part ; 
 
 But every pulse will chain, and hide, 
 
 And meet her with a Druid's pride ;
 
 60 AGABUS ; 
 
 She shall not see my spirit bleed 
 
 As I return her too-loved creed ; 
 
 One, man dreams sent him from above. 
 
 That dangerous creed of woman's love : 
 
 Man's everlasting sacrifice, 
 
 The faith that lost him Paradise." 
 
 But vi^ill, fame, honour, what avail, 
 With woman's deep love in the scale ? 
 And Rigel, firm in faith and will. 
 Pauses, and turns, and trembles still. 
 " Woman ! yes, I her love forego ! 
 No more will be her bondman — no ! 
 'Tis cravenness thus, thus to cower ; 
 No more I own her tyrant power. 
 What ! bend my majesty of soul 
 To her uncertain, proud control ? 
 Better by far the slave to be 
 Of some wild wave on some wild sea ; 
 Best be the bird, whose idle wing 
 Is caught within the fowler's spring ; 
 Or fly, that slumbering on a flower
 
 OR, THE LAST OF THE DRUIDS. CI 
 
 Has fallen into childhood's power ; 
 
 Or trust the sweets of dawning day 
 
 WiU never melt and pass away. 
 
 And yet the heart's instinctive play 
 
 Looks round upon its weary way 
 
 For something more than self, to be 
 
 The light to guide its destiny ; 
 
 And woman's love for this was given — 
 
 Life's rainbow — arch'd from earth to heaven. 
 
 Yet how, how know a woman's will ? 
 
 But Annette, Annette loves me still. 
 
 Let others be or wild or strange. 
 
 My own poor Annette will not change. 
 
 But one must change; say, how else part? 
 
 And mine should be the sterner heart. 
 
 Her God I know not ; yet T read 
 
 She dreamt some blessing o'er my head. 
 
 But that dread curse ! her fatal stroke 1 — 
 
 Yet how she falter' d as she spoke ! 
 
 'Twas energy of mind, not heart : 
 
 I saw her at her own words start. 
 
 That look of agony — that tear
 
 62 AGABUS ; 
 
 That shone, yet dared not fall — her prayer, 
 
 In breathless stillness as I turn'd — 
 
 Her look of love to mine that spurn'd. — 
 
 Yes, I will see her but once more ; 
 
 Then fly this loved, this fatal shore. 
 
 I would not see her, but 'twould be 
 
 Disgrace to manhood's dignity 
 
 To leave a heart our love has broken. 
 
 Without one word of kindness spoken. 
 
 I will but tell her not to weep, 
 
 Will only press her hand once more : — 
 
 I feel a chilness o'er me creep ; 
 
 I wish this parting scene were o'er. 
 
 But I am firm, and can defy 
 
 E'en Annette's gentle, speaking eye. 
 
 Aye, since we part, she now shall see 
 
 A Druid's pride and dignity. 
 
 " Christian, I come — take back thy heart ; 
 For ever, ever, now we part. 
 I scorn not thy strange unknown creed. 
 But, for my own, will suffer, bleed.
 
 OR, THE LAST OF THE DRUIDS. 63 
 
 Thy hosts may come in sweeping floods — 
 
 Here's blood to give them for my gods. 
 
 But, scorning Christian, veil thy pride ; 
 
 For, know, thou standest by the side 
 
 Of one whose deep and glorious faith 
 
 First show'd thee, Gentile, Heaven's path ; 
 
 The eye of earth in wonder gazed ; 
 
 Th' astonished Rabbi stood amazed ; 
 
 And trembling princes sent afar 
 
 To know the meaning of thy star ; 
 
 And, while they sought for wisdom stored. 
 
 At once the Sabeans knelt, adored. 
 
 None others would their woi-ship give, 
 
 But sent the sacred fugitive 
 
 An infant wanderer — the sole wise 
 
 Who read the language of the skies. 
 
 Came hastening upon their road. 
 
 And named Him Prophet, Prince, and God. 
 
 Their love had read, in Heaven's sky. 
 
 His bright, his glorious destiny ; 
 
 For no such star had ever been : 
 
 It shone as Magi ne'er had seen ;
 
 64 AGABUS ; 
 
 Though many a planet had foreshown 
 Names rich in glory and renown ; 
 Yet ne'er such tidings had been sent 
 As lighted now the firmament ; 
 Writ on the Gentile's sacred page. 
 That he might read his heritage 
 Himself, and hear the holy call 
 That open'd Heaven's gate to all. 
 Canst thou be child of Him who came 
 A Martyr with a Godhead's name ? 
 In whose soft breast such deep love clung 
 For mortal man, that angels sung, 
 From heaven itself, to hail his birth — 
 Mercy's bright advent upon earth. 
 Are curses mercy .'' Is their rod 
 The sceptre of this loving God ? 
 Are thv faith's sanction'd curses nursed 
 By Him whose fondness never cursed ? 
 The God who made the earth for all. 
 And hears the humblest insect's call ? 
 By thy own creed his blood was given 
 That none should be the lost of heaven.
 
 OR, THE LAST OF THE DRUIDS. (j5 
 
 To read man's heart is understood 
 
 But by its own Creator — God. 
 
 Shall man, the fallen, then decree 
 
 What the Almighty's will shall be ? 
 
 Go, child ! thou canst not curse or save 
 
 Beyond the precincts of the grave. 
 
 I only seek to know that He, 
 
 The all, all good, can hear, can see 
 
 My every thought, word, deed — his eye 
 
 Ne'er quits my path. My destiny 
 
 Is to tread earth my little day. 
 
 To humbly fear, to love, obey ; 
 
 And virtue's holy law fulfil. 
 
 Beyond the grave the Godhead will 
 
 His unknown path apportion man — 
 
 One his poor earth-niind could not span. 
 
 Weak child ! thou canst not curse the soul. 
 
 Or e'en one moment from the goal 
 
 Of death delay it. — Go ! I own 
 
 Omnipotence in God alone. 
 
 " Back to my Tubel's grove I go.
 
 66 AGABUS ; 
 
 Feeling that too much we may know. 
 
 Best ne'er have known the sun's bright hght. 
 
 Than see it set in endless night. 
 
 Annette, I go, thy tempter- deed 
 
 May make my heart not turn but bleed ; 
 
 I cannot say — Oh never ! never ! — 
 
 The word must part us both for ever ; 
 
 But to this dell no more I fly. 
 
 In all love's fond expectancy. 
 
 Of what ? Of some wild wandering hour, 
 
 When the heart basking in its power, 
 
 Seem'd half unconscious of its sense. 
 
 In its calm beauteous confidence. 
 
 " I go, I must not pause, but fly. 
 Annette, I cannot say, ' good bye ! ' 
 But hear me swear, by that star's ray. 
 That never " 
 
 " Stay ! one moment stay 
 Here at thy feet, with heart deep riven. 
 Thy Annette kneels to be forgiven ;
 
 OR, THE LAST OF THE DRUIDS. «7 
 
 Not for upholding' her own God, 
 
 And tempting thee toward his road, 
 
 But that my heart for thee has borne 
 
 A flower has wither'd to a thorn : 
 
 Oh ! add not to the fearful cost, 
 
 Of feeling that thy love is lost ; 
 
 The feeling that within thy heart 
 
 I form its darkest, saddest part ! 
 
 Loved ! these last words of love receive, 
 
 These trembling words. Forgive ! Forgive !" 
 
 " Forgive thee ! aye, with springing will ; 
 Forgive thee, Annette I bless thee still I 
 Wrong, confess' d fondly with love's tear, 
 Can almost make the error dear. 
 Here, keep this amulet, to charm 
 Away from thee the powers of harm ; 
 Keep it ! thy faith its powers deride. 
 But mine shall guard it by thy side : 
 My name be with it, dearest one." 
 
 " Can Rigel be for ever gone ? 
 
 f2
 
 68 AGABUS ; 
 
 Aye, words, wild words, we both have spoken, 
 Yet is not this love's precious token ?" 
 
 Oh ! there are moments, when the harass'd soul 
 
 Seems chain'd, with iron chain, to some dread goal 
 
 Of thought, where hopes on crutches stand. 
 
 Like death-mutes, with death-torches in their hand ; 
 
 And, with its heavy breath around us cast, 
 
 Lies coiled at our feet, the serpent Past. 
 
 Could we but crush it ! but the wish were vain, 
 
 Crush'd for a moment, 'twould re-live again, 
 
 With all its sad and bitter memories. 
 
 Chilling our thoughts, our holiest sympathies ; 
 
 Hissing, with its forked tongue, its bitterness 
 
 Upon that future, which we dream shall bless 
 
 Us still awhile, and where we plant fresh flowers. 
 
 To live upon their imaged sweets. But hours 
 
 Come with their spade and scythe to make their tombs. 
 
 And bury every blossom ere it blooms. 
 
 Yes, bury every hoped-for day of rest. 
 
 That yearn'd-for day in every human breast ; 
 
 That day that in the present never lives,
 
 OR, THE LAST OP THE DRUIDS. 69 
 
 But haply still the future ever gives. 
 Go ask the heart that knows not of a sorrow, 
 Lives it in its to-day, or its to-morrow ? 
 Sorrow alone lives in the present ; Time 
 "Will stand still for it ; whilst its chime 
 Of leaden tones, and dull thick echoes fall. 
 Like winter's wind flapping some funeral pall ; 
 She smiles, hastes on to meet some other smile, 
 But tears we drink, and taste each drop the while. 
 
 But who can say that he will spurn 
 The power of love, and never yearn 
 For its soft pulse, and tender ties, 
 And all its gentle sympathies ? 
 
 'Tis not by hours Love counts his time, 
 He counts it by his pulses' chime ; 
 What takes the sun long days to pass 
 Are moments in his hourglass. 
 Whose rainbow coloured grains of dust 
 Ever re-heap'd, yet ever must 
 Refall their crumbling power to prove.
 
 70 AGABUS ; 
 
 While Hope, the sun-dial of love, 
 Whose gnomon points each coming hour 
 With shadow of some beauteous flower. 
 Comes, and re-comes, her shades to run. 
 Of rising and of setting sun. 
 With trembling beams that never rest 
 Stilly, within the human breast. 
 
 " Wait not to-morrow at the tree, 
 Annette, I cannot be with thee. 
 For we must learn these coming nights 
 Some solemn new mysterious rites. 
 Couldst thou hear Agabus (22) rehearse 
 Our glorious Paean's holy verse. 
 With dew-drop standing in his eye. 
 And faltering voice of ecstacy. 
 E'en thou hadst paused to hear his word. 
 Aye, and in breathless list'ning heard. 
 How Aldebaran's glorious light (23) 
 Leads on the chariot-wheels of night. 
 His words of love and wisdom seem 
 Like Belus's all fiery beam.
 
 OR, THE LAST OF THE DRUIDS. 71 
 
 Appears to warm and gently fall 
 Upon the young buds' coronal. 
 
 " I go, love ! but 'tis not to change, 
 
 Or other flowers gather ; 
 Our hearts we will awhile exchange. 
 
 And both be yet together. 
 Oh no, love ! no, we do not part. 
 
 For memory, with love fraught. 
 Will from the echo of the heart 
 
 Give each to each his thought. 
 Then kiss for me this bit of heath. 
 
 And I will shrine it on my breast, 
 That absent from thee I may breathe 
 
 The truth that on its leaf will rest. 
 
 " Go, Rigel, go, thou must not stay. 
 The evening star is on its way." 
 
 'Tis now the moonlight hour of love, 
 Annette is wandering in her grove, 
 
 " Where is he now ? my heart can see 
 That smile that tells he thinks of me :
 
 72 AGABUS ; 
 
 How bright it looks on his lip beaming ! 
 None know of whom his soul is dreaming. 
 Say, will he turn from some star's glow 
 To wonder where I wander now ? 
 Will he some occult charm not hear, 
 Because his thoughts are wand'ring here ? 
 And will his task more beauteous be 
 When he repeats its theme to me ? 
 Will he be glad to hear my praise, 
 
 To see me bend a listening ear 
 To all his lip in ardour says, 
 
 Because he knows to me 'tis dear ? 
 To hear the music of his voice. 
 
 To see his mind, its beauteous whole ; 
 Or love me more when I rejoice 
 At being the oasis of his soul ? 
 Oh, Rigel, haste thee back again. 
 
 We will not speak of gods or faith, 
 To think of them, alas ! is vain, 
 
 'Tis strewing briars on our path. 
 Oh ! cast not on the heart the dearth 
 Of lonehness, we are but earth — 
 Of earthly thoughts, of earthly clay.
 
 OR, THE LAST OF THE DRUIDS. 73 
 
 That turns 'midst earthly flowers to stray : 
 
 Oh ! let us like earth's flowers be 
 
 From warring faiths a moment free. 
 
 And taste the paradisial sense 
 
 Of spotless love and innocence, 
 
 That forms no wish, that breathes no prayer, 
 
 That God and angels may not share." 
 
 Love's penance-hour at last has fled, 
 And Rigel back has quickly sped. 
 
 " I paused but once in hastening here 
 
 To breathe the wild flowers' rising prayer." 
 
 " Nay, speak not thus, my Rigel, say. 
 For what can sinless flowers pray ?" 
 
 " Loved one ! that heaven may renew 
 Their sunshine and their honey'd dew. 
 And that the wild bee may not crush. 
 With his rude wing, their opening blush. 
 The star prays — that no darken' d cloud 
 May come its sparkling beam to shroud.
 
 74 AGABUS ; 
 
 Or stay its soft ray from being shed 
 
 Upon its sleeping flowers' bed. 
 
 The ocean prays —that in its breast 
 
 The swelling storm may chain'd up rest, 
 
 And that in peacefulness it may 
 
 There wave and re-wave tranquilly. 
 
 The earth prays — that the springs may give 
 
 Their streams to make its grass-blade live, 
 
 And that its breast may long be rife 
 
 With bounding throbs of joyous life. 
 
 All have on their allotted road 
 
 A something still to ask of God ; 
 
 To tell us He is Lord of all. 
 
 And prove our weakness through our call. 
 
 But what prays also can rejoice ; 
 
 And Nature's universal voice, 
 
 In earth and air, in sky and sea. 
 
 Rejoice in their loved Deity. 
 
 •" These are the truths that Agabus, 
 With look of love, oft teaches us ; 
 Letting us read in his calm eye
 
 OR, THE LAST OF THE DRUIDS. 7^ 
 
 Nature's own quiet piety. 
 That springs its simple faith to prove 
 By love that seeks to waken love. 
 And goodness that, whate'er befall. 
 Turns to shed blessings upon all."
 
 PART III. 
 
 " Noic rattles through the tangled brake 
 Th' alarum of the giant snake" 
 
 HON. A. HERBERT. 
 
 The moon has twice her phases turn'd 
 
 Since Rocquebert's Hght so strangely burn'd ; 
 
 And nought has come, through friend or stranger. 
 
 To whisper aught of fear or danger. 
 
 But who is he who dares this shade, 
 
 With Christian warrior's ghttering blade ? 
 
 " Unknown one, stop ! Unknowing too. 
 
 Or thus thou would'st not dare pursue. 
 
 In garb of hostile mien, tiie road 
 
 Towards the shrine of Tubel's god."
 
 78 AGABUS ; 
 
 " I heed nor shrine nor power of ill, 
 I come a purpose to fulfil, 
 And my true sword my guarantee, 
 To guard my path secure and free ; 
 I come not here to fear or fly, 
 But my behest to do or die !" 
 
 " Thou speakest as a warrior might 
 
 Upon the belted field of fight, 
 
 But in this grove subdue thy tone, 
 
 'Tis Belus's all sacred one ! 
 
 Nor dare before the high priest stand 
 
 With blood-stain'd weapon in thy hand." 
 
 " I am a soldier, and I heed 
 Nor priesthood's forms, nor Druids' creed, 
 And ere my blade and I shall part. 
 Thou first must make this fearless heart 
 The scabbard where thine own proud glaive 
 Shall rest upon the Christian's grave." 
 
 " 'Tis bravely, boldly spoken ! and 
 My power this moment might command
 
 OR, THE LAST OF THE DRUIDS. 79 
 
 My faithful serfs to hither hie. 
 And shatter it before thine eye. 
 But keep it, since thou stand'st alone ; 
 For, Christian, be it to thee known. 
 That power usurp'd upon the weak 
 Would leave shame's crimson on the cheek 
 Of, warrior, e'en the very least 
 Who calls himself a Druid priest ! 
 Proceed, now, and thine errand say." 
 
 " I now am come from Alath (24) bay. 
 Where RoUo's war-boats wait, before 
 They come to bring him to this shore ; 
 Nor does he wish to war with thee. 
 Unless 'tis stern necessity. 
 I am his favour'd sister's son ; 
 But, Druid, I have come alone. 
 As every hostile thought shall cease, 
 If thou give what will give thee peace. 
 Truth, earnest truth, is all my aim. 
 Or call it, if thou wilt, love's name ; 
 I care not v/hat name thought may lend,
 
 80 AGABUS ; 
 
 If I obtain my cherish'd end. 
 I come to seek — nay, be not blind, — 
 I come to seek, and come to find, — 
 And from my purpose nought shall scare, - 
 A Christian maid who harbours here. 
 If aught has touch'd her sacred hair. 
 Thy doom is seal'd, thy doom is near. 
 My heart for her its tears has shed, 
 I've wept for her, but wept her dead ; 
 And gladly have bestowed my store 
 For masses on her soul to pour. 
 For on the morrow of her flight 
 To me her troth she was to plight, 
 And I to claim her at my side, 
 My loved ! my own ! my idol bride ! 
 We miss'd her I but word came of her, 
 Brought bv an ancient mariner. 
 Who said he saw her on the shore. 
 Where often she had stray'd before ; 
 And that a sudden springing wave 
 Had borne her to the ocean's grave. 
 But proof I have she harbours here ; —
 
 OR, THE LAST OF THE DRUIDS. .",1 
 
 The death-bed proof, that proof sincere ; — 
 
 For he who here had with her sped, 
 
 Confess'd it on his dying bed. 
 
 I know the spot ; I know the night ! 
 
 'Twas La Roque's bay, and Rocquebert's light. 
 
 ' That hour,' he said, ' seem'd hell to mock, 
 
 In burning fury on its rock.' 
 
 Restore her, then, or Rollo's band 
 
 Ere three days on thy coast shall land." 
 
 " My answer would be firm and brief. 
 
 But that thou art the child of grief ; 
 
 And when that child appeals to me, 
 
 I ask not what his creed mav be ; 
 
 As long as grief and he are one, 
 
 Of Agabus he is the son. 
 
 A Druid to a warrior youth 
 
 Swears not to seal his word of truth ; 
 
 For a high-priest's word can suffice 
 
 For e'en the truth of sacrifice. 
 
 But, listen to my earnest word. 
 
 Heard by my God ! — I ne'er have heard 
 
 G
 
 82 AGABUS ; 
 
 Of her of whom thou comest to speak : 
 
 But thou in liberty may'st seek 
 
 Wheree'er thou wilt for her thy love, 
 
 Except the temple of the grove ; 
 
 For none but priests may rest their eye 
 
 Within its awful sanctuary. 
 
 But first let Rigel come : the spell 
 
 He watch'd that night ; so he can tell 
 
 If aught approach'd our island shore : 
 
 But had aught, I had long before 
 
 Now known it ; for he need might fear, 
 
 Wlio keeps aught from the high-priest's ear. 
 
 " Rigel, my son, this chief would claim, 
 
 Through threat of war, and blood and flame, 
 
 A Christian maiden he has lost ; 
 
 And who. he says, upon our coast, 
 
 Near to the rock of Glorious Light, 
 
 Landed, upon the very night 
 
 When thou wast watch-priest : didst thou 
 
 see 
 This wandering child of mystery ? "
 
 OR, THE LAST OF THE DRUIDS. 83 
 
 " Dread Vega's power !" a stern voice said, 
 " Her darkest doom be on thy head. 
 If thou omit one spark of truth 
 Before this Christian warrior youth." 
 
 O'er Rigel's frame a shudder ran, 
 Which none but Vega's eye could scan. 
 
 " Nought on my watch-night landed near 
 To Rocquebert ; and the night so clear. 
 That nought could stem its neighbouring tide 
 My watchful eye had not descried ; 
 But nought that night came o'er the sea. 
 That ear could hear or eye could see." 
 
 " Rigel, thou every serf dost know. 
 
 And every hut ; then with him go, 
 
 And search each nook thou deem'st could hide 
 
 Tliis faithful warrior's missing bride." 
 
 " To-day is a dark day of gloom, 
 To weep (25) within the cromlech tomb, — 
 
 o 2
 
 84 AGABUS ; 
 
 The holy spot of holy tears, 
 That holy memory endears. 
 The rites are all prepared to show- 
 Its anniversary (26) of woe, 
 The weeping (27) women ready are, 
 And I it is who read the star (28) ; 
 But Roaul knows each spot as well, 
 And hetter e'en than I can tell ! " 
 
 " Then be it Roaul ! young serf, see 
 
 Thou showest this Christian courtesy ; 
 
 And lead him on, and while our guest, 
 
 In our name let nought molest 
 
 His path ; but let his will be free. 
 
 To search in freest liberty. 
 
 Let him in peace his path explore ; 
 
 Nor seek from (29) him for legend's store. 
 
 And, Christian, thou wilt to this grove 
 
 Return, to tell us of thy love." 
 
 What is that spirit comes and weighs 
 Its iron on the heart, and preys
 
 OR, THE LAST OF THE DRUIDS. 85 
 
 Upon each waking wish and thought 
 With palsying power unseen, unsought ; 
 That strange cold gloom, that, undefined. 
 Stands sentinel upon the mind — 
 A spectre of nought eye can see, 
 Yet one of something is to be ; 
 A moaning phantom of the night. 
 Ghost of the ignis fatuus' light. 
 That lures on our aching eye, 
 And follows if we turn to fly ; 
 With eye of basilisk possess' d, 
 Deadening each pulse within our breast ; 
 Like hawk that stays its wing on high 
 O'er the poor victim of its eye. 
 With dead charm chains it to its nest. 
 Ere it swoop down upon its breast ? — 
 It is that strange foreboding, sent 
 We know not why — Presentiment ! 
 
 Leaning beside a Dolmen now, 
 Vega, with stern yet tranquil brow, 
 Seem'd pondering something : her hand lay 
 On a last relic of man's clay.
 
 86 AGABUS ; 
 
 " Why have I found thee ? wherefore art thou here ? 
 
 Is it to tell my ready will, — ' Prepare ? ' 
 
 Proud crumbling man ! thy soul a heavenly birth ! 
 
 Yet this the legacy thou leavest to earth ; 
 
 As if thy power and folly to deride, 
 
 This relic now lies grinning at thy pride ! 
 
 Aye ! and for ages on it still shall last 
 
 To tell Death's frozen smile on all the past. 
 
 Man holds the hand of science, and can span 
 
 Nature's deep works, and her hid treasures scan. 
 
 He struggles hard to leave the pen of fame 
 
 A something to record his simple name. 
 
 And what is nature's tribute for his toil ? 
 
 Go ask the grave, its stores of wealth, its spoil ! 
 
 ' Grave, with what treasure is thy coffin full ? '• 
 
 The grave replies, ' But with a bone, a scull !' 
 
 Thou strange mis-shapen thing that hast confined 
 
 The noble essence of the human mind, 
 
 Why art thou fashion'd thus ? The power 
 
 That form'd thee, curious casket, form'd the flower 
 
 With colouring the loveliest we see ; 
 
 Say for what heavenly purpose ? But to be 
 
 The cup to hold the sweets that Nature gives
 
 OR, THE LAST OF THE DRUIDS. 87 
 
 The humming fly that but a moment lives. 
 The power, that moulded thy eccentric form, 
 Fashion'd the mountain rock that braves the storm. 
 Say, has the flower, with hues the fairest graced, 
 Held aught so rare as in thy cup was placed ? 
 Say, has the rock a gem more rich e'er known 
 Than thou hast cover'd with thy curious bone ? 
 With neither sense nor beauty art thou fraught. 
 Yet boldest the mysterious gem of thought. 
 Why art thou not a casket rich and pure, 
 Form'd of some beauteous gem, that shall endure 
 For ages, to bespeak thy mighty trust } 
 Thou canst not answer, thing of crumbling dust ! 
 Thou canst not ! senseless holder of all sense. 
 Thou knowest not the why, the when, the whence 
 Thou comest from and goest to ; thy day 
 Of life is ended now ; thou canst but say 
 To man, — ' Proud man ! go ask the grave, the sod ; 
 And they will answer with me, Ask thy God.' 
 
 " Agabus, go read the sky : 
 
 I've read my own strange augury ;
 
 88 AGABUS ; 
 
 But I would, through thy wisdom's lore. 
 Yet try to learn a something more." 
 
 " Well, come beside the sacred tree. 
 
 And I will tell thee what I see. 
 
 Those stars of light are strangely tending. 
 
 And mark o'er Tubel something pending ! 
 
 What can the fearful meaning be, 
 
 Clothed in such occult mystery ? 
 
 For, Vega, in that solemn sky. 
 
 This is what meets my shuddering eye : — 
 
 " The Serpent asks with lifted crest, — 
 Hast thou within thy anxious breast 
 E'er felt that living marble throb. 
 That in its swelling seems to rob 
 E'en life itself of life's own power, 
 And e'en makes self before self cower ? 
 Has thine eye bent upon the eye 
 Of blood-stain'd dying infamy ? 
 Hast thou e'er trembled at the page 
 Was written on the brow of age ?
 
 OR, THE LAST OF THE DRUIDS. 89 
 
 Hast thou e'er seen the mortal strife 
 Of death- dark struggle — life for life ? 
 Hast thou, alone, in shuddering, stood 
 And seen the murderer wash the blood 
 Beneath the quiet, tranquil sky. 
 Then start at his own leprosy ? 
 Hast thou — the pall of that dark cloud 
 Stays my dim eye with its black shroud ; 
 Would that I could its dull fold burst. 
 And know at once the fearful worst ; 
 But Belus wills I know no more. 
 Or that black cloud had not come o'er. 
 
 " Vega, T trust that young chief may 
 Discover at some future day 
 His strangely lost young bride : 'tis sure 
 She cannot be upon this shore : — 
 Aye ! come upon the very night 
 When Rigel watch'd the omen light ; 
 Come to the very spot where he 
 Was watching for each thing could be
 
 90 AGABUS ; 
 
 Another sign, that yet might pour 
 
 Upon the omen something more : — 
 
 He must have known it. But I deem 
 
 'Twas but that wild delirious dream. 
 
 That often comes its fear to shed 
 
 Upon some dark one's dying bed ; 
 
 But faith that young chief had not given. 
 
 That dimm'd his hope, though stars of heaven 
 
 Had spoken it : his heart but yearn'd 
 
 To that one beam that had return'd 
 
 With flowers from Love's wither'd plain. 
 
 To live a living hope again ! " 
 
 The soldier and his humble guide 
 Just turn'd towards the water's side ; 
 A boat was rocking near the strand. 
 Merely by two strong boatmen mann'd, 
 And Cloitaire bid the sailors lay 
 Their anchor down ; and the third day. 
 At eve, he back again would come. 
 And then they should re-steer for home.
 
 OR, THE LAST OF THE DRUIDS. 91 
 
 The fourth day is now come, and where 
 
 Can Cloitaire be ? he comes not near ; 
 
 They wonder ; nay, this must not be ! 
 
 One to the grove is gone, to see 
 
 Why nought of him had yet been heard ; 
 
 For never Cloitaire failed his word 
 
 To serf or sovereign, friend or foe, , 
 
 In hour of weal, in hour of woe. 
 
 Another day ! they will not wait ; 
 But to the very temple's gate. 
 On Vega's ear itself, they pour'd 
 The tale about their missing lord. 
 
 " One day more be your stay delay'd. 
 While keen and anxious search is made." 
 
 But the last had been heard of him 
 Was that, towards the first day's dim, 
 Within the grove he stray'd alone. 
 Going towards the Peulvin stone ;
 
 92 AGABUS ; 
 
 And all his guide had got to tell. 
 Was, that he lost him in the dell. 
 As in some tangled path they stray'd 
 In the thick copse of grove's wild glade. 
 
 " Some di-eadful deed has late been done 
 Beside our sacred bound'ry stone ; 
 The Peulvin here in Tubel's wood 
 Is stain'd with fearful clots of blood ; 
 The grass around is trampled o'er. 
 And blacken'd with the stains of gore ; 
 And this bright lock once waved upon 
 The brow of that brave trusting one ! 
 Ay, Agabus ! but this dark night 
 Shall bring the murderer to light." 
 
 " Oh, Vega ! thife dread awful hour 
 Seems paralysing e'en thought's power : 
 But I will drag, through Dis's (30) might. 
 The wretch's blood-stain'd hand to sight. 
 'Tis not one blood alone is shed ; 
 RoUo, by justful vengeance led.
 
 OR, THE LAST OF THE DRUIDS. 93 
 
 Will in my children's gore requite 
 That shed upon that dreadful night. 
 Call here the priests. 
 
 "This island shore 
 Has just now seen, what ne'er before 
 Had stain'd its soil or dimm'd its eye, 
 A deed of blackest treachery I 
 Let the wing'd (Cl) herald hear my will, 
 Across each dale, each wood, and hill. 
 To Rocquebert go, the call-flame rise 
 High as it can towards the skies. 
 And let each trembling serf appear 
 This evening round the temple here ; 
 And in the flame, the shade immerse 
 "Will show a fearful bitter curse — 
 Shall ever hang, shall ever stay, 
 On him who dares to disobey." 
 
 And as he spoke, the old man's eye 
 Flash'd with a god-star's energy. 
 Wildlv the fire ascending flew.
 
 94 AGABUS ; 
 
 With fearful tinge of sulphur's hue. 
 
 As that flame banner is display'd 
 
 The wild serfs see and mark the shade, 
 
 A moment pause, with shrinking heart ; 
 
 Then springing through each vale they start. 
 
 Regardless of each hill or brake. 
 
 Straight for the temple's wood they make ; 
 
 With streaming (.32) red hair, through the grove, 
 
 They like strange driven spirits move. 
 
 Hastening, lest Vega should rehearse 
 
 On them the lagging (33) crane's dread curse. 
 
 With eager word, and anxious eye. 
 
 To press the startling signal try ; 
 
 Wondering why they are summon'd thus 
 
 In wrath by their loved Agabus ; 
 
 And now like some wild flock they stand. 
 
 Waiting with awe some dread command. 
 
 The solemn rite they may not see, — 
 That — that is sacred mystery. 
 The breeze tells of the incense shed — 
 The unknown offering's blood has bled ;
 
 OR, THE LAST OF THE DRUIDS. 95 
 
 And from the temple's heart see rise 
 
 The tameless flame of sacrifice ; 
 
 While a stern chorus hursts the air. 
 
 That palsies every heart with fear. 
 
 The sacred banner (34) hung unfurl'd. 
 
 With emblem of the mundane world ; 
 
 While the bright silver serpents flew 
 
 Across its field of azure hue, 
 
 And seem'd with living life to glow 
 
 Beneath their crown of mistletoe. 
 
 Its fold moved not, as though 'twould be 
 
 Still 'midst this awful mystery. 
 
 And now the minor priests stand round 
 
 The holy consecrated ground ; 
 
 While the serfs near and nearer press. 
 
 To see their priest and prophetess, 
 
 Agabus stands in robes (35) of white, 
 
 That flow as if in streams of light ; 
 
 Begirted by a golden (36) band, 
 
 While golden bracelets deck'd each hand ; 
 
 In golden chain upon his breast. 
 
 The mystic egg (37) was seen to rest ;
 
 96 AGABUS ; 
 
 And from another chain of gold, 
 
 The golden (38) keys his office told ; 
 
 While the gold sacred (39) sickle graced 
 
 The royal hand that girt his waist ; 
 
 For his robe is the regal one. 
 
 Worn by the high- priest of the sun. 
 
 A wreath of mistletoe and oak 
 
 Upon his brow his order spoke. 
 
 Typing the power of his god 
 
 Upon his earth's obedient sod. 
 
 His long proud sceptre touch'd the ground. 
 
 The vervain (^o) Vega's forehead bound ; 
 And the bright (41) crescent on her brow 
 In amber (42) charm appear'd to glow. 
 Her vestal veil its pure folds threw 
 Round her dark dress of crimson hue. 
 
 And now she stands to prophesy. 
 And breathe the curse ; and with an eve 
 As flaming as the flaming brand 
 She holds uplifted in her hand ;
 
 OR, THE LAST OF THE DRUIDS. 97 
 
 She speaks, and every word falls clear 
 And far upon the solemn air. 
 That seems, in darkness deep and still, 
 Itself to listen to her will. 
 
 " Within five days a deed of blood 
 Has stain'd this sacred grove of God. 
 Forward each aged father stand. 
 Who numbers children in this land ; 
 For ye it is who first shall be 
 The mark to mark your progeny. 
 To show the poison'd vulture's nest. 
 That nursed the wretch's iron breast. 
 That race a withered lip shall mark, 
 Shall glow like blue flame in the dark ; 
 But my last dooming blasting call 
 Alone shall on the guilty fall ; 
 And ere this night wake from its gloom, 
 He meets his awful measured doom. 
 And now my firebrand will I spread, 
 To wake the spirit of the dead ; 
 And mark me, I can see that stone, 
 
 H
 
 98 AGABUS ; 
 
 And, culprit ! also thee, though none 
 Seem to be near ; yet by this rite, 
 My eye on that spot rests to-night." 
 (Breathless as death the pale serfs stood.) 
 " Go to the ordeal stone of blood. 
 And let him not or pause or stay 
 The time of one star's twinkling ray 
 From out the path which he must tread. 
 Or dread shall be made doubly dread. 
 And, guilty hand, do thou remain 
 Transfix'd, as with an iron chain, 
 Upon that death spot, while I pour 
 This incantation on its gore : — 
 ' Fiends shall their watches round it keep ; 
 Till, springing from his deadly sleep, 
 From earth the accusing spirit rise, 
 With awful brand of sacrifice. 
 To write in characters of flame, 
 Upon that spot the murderer's name. 
 
 " ' Turn'd to a rock his form shall be 
 Upon some lonely fearful sea ;
 
 OR, THE LAST OF THE DRUIDS. 99 
 
 Where, senseless to the universe, 
 He'll still be sentient of my curse. 
 And he shal) on the midnight air, 
 Hear his ^oved shrieking in despair, 
 And fiends shall show on some wild wave. 
 Those dear ones whom he cannot save ; — 
 Shall see them fancy that they see 
 Him near them in their agony ; 
 Shall stretch their arms, and call his name 
 In words of fondness still the same ; 
 Then see them sink beneath the wave. 
 Feeling he could, but would not save. 
 And demons shall the storm-winds stir, 
 To howl upon the murderer. 
 Darkness shall wrap his living tomb. 
 Except when lightnings break its gloom ; 
 And, to his heart with clammy cling 
 Of everlasting withering. 
 Shall make him ever shrinking dread 
 Some pending evil on his head. 
 For ever coming, never come ! ' — 
 This ! this shall be the murderer's doom ! 
 H 2
 
 100 AGABUS ; 
 
 " Serfs, every priest shall first be sent. 
 To show the scatheless innocent ; 
 For nought shall come in form of ruth. 
 To scare or harm the heart of truth. 
 
 " Rigel ! go thou ; — thou need'st not fear, 
 The good are Belus's own care ; — 
 And haste thee back, that these may see 
 Innocence is security." 
 
 But Rigel comes not back again I 
 They wait awhile ; but wait in vain. 
 Priests to the Peulvin quickly press : 
 But Agabus he first must bless 
 Their steps ; for now upon the gloom 
 Speed the dark spirits of the tomb. 
 
 The Arch-Druid raised his hands on high, 
 And bless'd them as they pass'd him by. 
 
 " My children, take with you the charm. 
 To shield and guard your steps from harm.
 
 OR, THE LAST OF THE DRUIDS. 1»1 
 
 Demons ! my chain I round you throw : 
 My children now in safety go." 
 
 Pale they return ; for they have found 
 Rigel stretch'd dying on the ground. 
 Conscience had done its victor deed : 
 He said but, " I 'twas made him bleed. 
 I feel the stiffening curse of stone ; 
 Oh demons ! fiends ! begone ! begone ! " 
 
 Nature — example to weak man ; 
 
 And meant so in the Godhead's plan 
 
 Of universe, that it might stand 
 
 A ready page beneath his hand. 
 
 To teach him both in age and youth. 
 
 The beauty of God's love. His truth ; — 
 
 But love and truth are but the same 
 
 Blest pulse, but with a different name. 
 
 See Nature wait the storm to meet ; 
 
 Her senseless sense of self, replete 
 
 With a calm majesty and power, 
 
 That seems to feel, yet scorns the hour ; —
 
 102 AGABUS ; 
 
 Waiting in quietness the worst 
 On her unshrinking head to burst. 
 Motionless the old oak tree 
 Stands in its forest dignity ; 
 That the fork'd lightning may rend, 
 That trunk its power could not bend, 
 Or throws, like some bold ocean rock, 
 Back on the storm the storm's wild shock : 
 So the deep spirit, calm and still. 
 Stands waiting its impending ill. 
 
 " Soon, Vega, in his fearful ire. 
 The Christian here, with brand and fire. 
 And blood stain'd sword, will expiate 
 This fearful deed of demon hate. 
 Aye, he will come with war and flame. 
 Like that o'erwhelming one, who came 
 On horse (43) whose hoof upon the strand 
 Left the impression of that hand. 
 That augurs told bespoke the glaive 
 Should make the trembling world his slave ; 
 Will he e'en leave us when we're riven ?
 
 OR, THE LAST OF THE DRUIDS. 103 
 
 Number the battle- worn (44) eleven : 
 
 Who on their hazel crutches, pale 
 
 And blood-stain'd, brought the fearful tale 
 
 Here where they came unseen to die, 
 
 And left their faith as legacy. 
 
 Faithfully have we to it stood, 
 
 And now may seal it with our blood." 
 
 " O Agabus ! oh ! must we see 
 
 This awful day of agony ! 
 
 The temples of home's happy hearth 
 
 Be broken fragments on the earth. 
 
 This temple, our beloved ! our own ! 
 
 Its stones be scatter' d, overthrown. 
 
 And blood of ours about it run 
 
 Through slave who ne'er adored the sun, 
 
 Or deem'd the glorious stars could be 
 
 The prophets of futurity. 
 
 Oh ! would this vestal blood could flow, 
 
 To stay this fearful day of woe ! 
 
 Oh ! would that on the sacred (15) if^le 
 
 I lay upon the funeral pile,
 
 104 AGABUS ; 
 
 Feeling that joy which vestals feel 
 When dying for their country's weal. 
 Ceridwin, (4G) turn, oh ! turn to stone 
 This poor heart of thy vestal one ! " 
 
 " Let the pale serf now tell with fear 
 
 The history of his future tear. 
 
 Vega, 'tis not for us to weep. 
 
 Deep moments need have thoughts as deep ; 
 
 My voice no more can (47) quench the fire 
 
 Of human passion's maddening ire. 
 
 Vega, we now must act, not fear ; 
 
 Give me thy counsel, (48) not thy tear. 
 
 Lean on me, Vega, I am old. 
 
 But woman's danger makes man bold 
 
 Even in age. Oh ! weep not thus. 
 
 Thou art beside old Agabus." 
 
 When man feels woman helpless, weak, 
 Has but his heart for shield to seek ; 
 If in her sorrow, or her pride. 
 She but cling firmly to his side.
 
 OR, THE LAST OF THE DRUIDS. 106 
 
 It gives him will, and strength, and power. 
 
 To face the worst, the darkest hour. 
 
 Aye ! he will give his dying breath 
 
 To guard her to the gates of death. 
 
 His noble soul, on eagle's wings. 
 
 Comes bending to her sufferings; 
 
 Seeks out her griefs, and makes his breast 
 
 A sacred refuge for their rest. 
 
 Proud to be made their sharer, he 
 
 Will risk for her eternity; 
 
 And every joy and hope forego. 
 
 Can woman help him too much ? — No. 
 
 Her lot to watch Liai with the eye 
 
 Of fondest, holiest purity ; 
 
 To light his path of earthly gloom, 
 
 And love him, aye ! beyond the tomb. 
 
 Best gift at her primeval birth. 
 
 Her God's vicegerent upon earth. 
 
 " Stay thou beside me, for 'twill give 
 Me power a moment yet to live ; 
 And life I need one other hour 
 To save this shrine from Rollo's power.
 
 106 AGABUS ; 
 
 " Hu Gadarn, (49) founder of our race. 
 Be with us on this cherish'd place. 
 That our spirits may be three, (50) 
 And our power tenfold be. 
 
 " The temple shall not— shall not fall ! 
 
 Would this old heart could be the wall 
 
 To save it from the Christian slave ! 
 
 But no ! it shall not fall ! a grave (51) 
 
 Shall round its worshipp'd altars rise. 
 
 And save it from the sacrifice ; 
 
 And every stone shall stand unmoved, 
 
 Treasured by those its altars loved : 
 
 Quick ! let again the call-flame burn. 
 
 And let the scatter' d serfs return. 
 
 Vega, of tear-choak'd words enough. 
 
 Our gods call now "It! gUl Tan VLtuV (52) 
 
 Echo its call from steep to steep. 
 
 And let each heart now work, not weep." 
 
 Now every hand, and every heart. 
 In the all-holy work take part ; 
 And many a hasty tear is shed
 
 OR, THE LAST OF THE DRUIDS. 10? 
 
 Upon the ashes of the dead, 
 
 Whose urns are brought, with tearful eye, 
 
 To rest within the sanctuary ; 
 
 Each strives the other to outvie 
 
 In this last work of piety ; 
 
 All spring with energy, to save 
 
 Their temple in this holy grave ; 
 
 E'en the old oak now gives its bough. 
 
 It may not shade its temple now, 
 
 But glories in its dying lot 
 
 That helps to guard the sacred spot. 
 
 In which its leaf, so often blest. 
 
 The altar and the priest had drest. 
 
 'Tis done (53) — and few there are could tell 
 
 The spot where many a victim fell, 
 
 And many a holy rite was done 
 
 To their still worshipp'd glorious sun. 
 
 " But those dark sails upon the sea 
 Tell Rollo coming. Children flee I 
 Nor mark this spot, begone ! begone ! 
 And leave this sacred tomb alone."
 
 108 AGABUS ; 
 
 But Agabus and Vega, they — 
 They cannot, will not, turn away ; 
 But calmly stand with tranquil eye 
 Upon this cherish'd grave to die. 
 
 The wild yell rises from the strand. 
 
 There gleam the Christian blade and brand. 
 
 On ! on they come, thirsting once more 
 
 To drink the helpless Druid gore ; 
 
 The dells are echoing scream to scream, 
 
 The rivulet is one red stream ; 
 
 The war spear's bell, (54) the war dog's cry, (55) 
 
 Mix with the shrieks of agony ; 
 
 The sacred friends (56) lie side by side. 
 
 Together they have fought and died ; 
 
 Time for no message now is lent. 
 
 The air with dying groans is rent ; 
 
 The hut's flame-torch is wildly spread ; 
 
 The dying die upon the dead ; 
 
 In the expiring infant's grasp 
 
 Is still the grass it tried to clasp ; 
 
 Its mother, flung upon that heath.
 
 OR, THE LAST OF THE DRUIDS. 109 
 
 Has died, unconscious of her death ; 
 And far and wild, through hill and dale, 
 Is the same terror- shrieking tale. 
 Their thirst for blood its taste has waked, 
 And now it knows not to be slaked ; 
 In their God's name, they fill the air 
 With cries of carnage and despair. 
 Now they come rushing like a flood. 
 Their very hair is stain'd with blood, 
 Clutch'd in the last convulsive sigh 
 Of some poor serf's last agony. 
 
 Waiting the annihilating band, 
 
 An old man and a woman stand ; 
 
 Not in some nook of hidden ground. 
 
 But on a torn wood's hilly mound. 
 
 Which the poor timid serf has left, 
 
 With earth fresh turn'd and wood fresh cleft ; 
 
 Their white robes and their quiet eye 
 
 Tell of their mind's high majesty. 
 
 They bend not, sue not, speak no word ! 
 
 They are not of the common herd.
 
 110 AGABUS; 
 
 None but the captain of the band 
 Dare make them captives of his hand — 
 So strangely round the lesser mind 
 Does look of power its power bind, 
 E'en he protects with courteous care. 
 " Rollo himself will soon be here, 
 And, till he comes to do his vow, 
 Fear nought, for I protect you now." 
 
 "Fear! soul-stain'd Christian, know, know this. 
 An Arch-Druid knows not what it is ; 
 He fears nor death, nor tortured blood — 
 He fears but one thing only — God," 
 
 Rollo comes ! slaves, your glorious hour. 
 To show the captives in your power. 
 He sternly takes his seat of fate. 
 And his obedient warriors wait 
 For him to bid the weapon glow, 
 Shall lay the waiting captives low. 
 Vainly did Rollo's stern look try 
 To bend that old man's glowing eye.
 
 OR, THE LAST OF THE DRUIDS. Ill 
 
 " Christian, the blood- stain' d, and the cold, 
 
 Thou canst not chill this blood ; 'tis old, 
 
 'Tis old in age ; but, warrior, know 
 
 'Tis firm in faith, and young in glow ! 
 
 The fire within this mind burns free. 
 
 Thou canst not quench its energy. 
 
 I dread not what thou callest death. 
 
 That last iota of the breath ; 
 
 That equal offering at life's term. 
 
 Of sensient man, and senseless worm ; 
 
 Raised from the earth, my soul will spring, 
 
 As on an eagle's glorious wing. 
 
 And soar with an unshrinking eye 
 
 To worship still my Deity, 
 
 In purer form, in brighter sphere, 
 
 Than the stain'd earth we tread on here. 
 
 Thy vengeance I no longer heed. 
 
 But, Christian, for my children plead : 
 
 In mercy cease to stain this shore 
 
 With timid serfs' and Druids' gore ; 
 
 Our shrines, our groves are gone from us. 
 
 Take now the heart of Agabus.
 
 112 AGABUS ; 
 
 Arch-Druid's blood is blood divine, 
 Mingle no water with your wine ; 
 Let its rich cup your thirst suffice. 
 And crown your awful sacrifice. 
 Here — (since thy sovereign regal dress 
 To suit thy taste may not be less. 
 Or rather suit thy Christian mood. 
 Than the deep shade of human blood,) 
 Here still some crimson dye remains 
 Within these feeble aged veins. 
 Can dye a robe of state, shall be 
 Unchanging to eternity. 
 Take it ; and these lost children save. 
 This ! this is all I bend to crave." 
 
 RoUo's dark brow is thick with gloom — 
 
 " Druid, prepare to meet thy doom ; 
 I heed not what it yet shall be. 
 But soon shall utter the decree. 
 The sacrifice may perhaps be made 
 With RoUo's own all- glorious blade.
 
 OR, THE LAST OF THE DRUIDS. 113 
 
 " Vestal, thy life is spared, and thou 
 Art free and fetterless e'en now. 
 Woman I war not with. But wait 
 And see thy last Arch-Druid's fate ; 
 And from our mercy thou may'st crave 
 His loathsome body. It will save 
 Our dogs a banquet, where the least 
 Would be polluted by the feast." 
 
 But Vega ! her dark folded lash 
 
 Has hid her eye's wild glowing flash ; 
 
 And, death-like, every nerve comprest. 
 
 Conceals the swelling of her breast. 
 
 Like tigress waiting for her prey. 
 
 Her eye one moment does not stray : 
 
 And now, with tiger fury springs. 
 
 And ere thought breathed, his weapon wrings 
 
 From Rollo's hand, and in his breast 
 
 Has plunged it to its very rest. 
 
 So light'ning-like the deed had been, 
 That few its fatal power had seen, 
 
 I
 
 114 AGABUS; 
 
 And e'en awhile those startled few 
 Asked, gazing, could this truth be true ? 
 
 And calmly Vega waits the call 
 
 Of vengeance to as calmly fall ; 
 
 One look of dead cold scorn she gave, 
 
 Then bent it on her temple's grave. 
 
 That through its veins pour'd down the blood 
 
 On the hid altar of her God. 
 
 One tear of glory diram'd her eye ! 
 
 As proudly it was raised on high. 
 
 Then seem'd as if by some chain bound 
 
 She now was portion of that mound. 
 
 " Oh ! may my blood upon this grave, 
 Old Agabus, thy loved blood save." (37) 
 
 Nought did the high priest's look express, 
 Stunn'd into still unconsciousness. 
 Vengeance now yells its fearful cries, 
 A hundred blows — and Vega dies. 
 She seem'd exultingly to bleed.
 
 OR, THE LAST OF THE DRUIDS. 115 
 
 And to die glorying in her deed. 
 The last words from her heart's full spring 
 Were " Agabus ! my priest ! my king !" 
 Her last look, as her eye grew dim, 
 Was turn'd with fondest beam on him. 
 But the last sigh her deep breath drew. 
 Breathed something no one ever knew. 
 
 " Old Druid I some strange unknown power 
 Has stood near thee this fatal hour, 
 And guards thee now. Thy race is gone, 
 The fearful worst for all is done. 
 Enough of blood has now been spilt ; 
 Old Druid, go ! go where thou wilt ; 
 Thou may'st to Carnac's (58) ruins fly, 
 Or on thy children's grave may'st die." 
 
 Where did he go ? None ever knew 
 Where his last mortal sigh he drew ; 
 Yet often would his eye of love 
 Come to his Tubel's cherish'd grove ; 
 Would see its altar's flame rise high, 
 I 2
 
 116 AGABUS; 
 
 To bear his mandates to the sky, 
 Where, shining in his glorious way, 
 Moved his still worshipp'd god of day. 
 He lived, as still the lone heart lives, 
 'Midst the loved ruins memory gives ; 
 His heart indifferent to all, 
 Yearn'd for the hour of heaven-call ; 
 His eye, not on the present cast, 
 Sought memory in her wither'd past — 
 Would hear his Vega's wild words still. 
 And mark again her bending will — 
 Would see her last dread fearful spring, 
 To save her loved priest and her king ; 
 Then shrink before the purple flood 
 Of her warm heart's devoted blood. 
 But as the tear his eye would dim. 
 Would he have called her back to him ? 
 No ; for he knew that earth but gave 
 Her wild lone heart a wither'd grave, 
 And that it now, on its bright shore. 
 In agony could throb no more. 
 Then memory would seek her rest
 
 OR, THE LAST OF THE DRUIDS. 117 
 
 In the wild music of her breast, 
 Re-echoing in love's fond strain, 
 
 " Vega, my wild ! 
 
 My sad ! sad ! child ! 
 We'll meet, Oh ! yes ! we'll fondly meet again ! " 
 
 But youth's loved arm supports his age, 
 And guides his weary pilgrimage : 
 Young Alfred leads his footsteps on. 
 The old man is not all alone. 
 
 When breathed his last sigh for his grove, 
 The little child he once had blest, 
 Held him in fondness to his breast. 
 
 And scann'd his dying eye with love. 
 
 Oft his young heart would turn and tell 
 Old Agabus's last farewell, 
 Repeating, with triumphant eye, 
 The old man's dying prophecy — 
 That told the tale of days of yore. 
 And how that Britain's soil once more
 
 118 AGABUS ; 
 
 Should be the spot, the earthly scene 
 Of glory such as ne'er had been. 
 And this the tale, the last farewell. 
 The boy so loved again to tell. 
 
 " Agabus, whose rising soul 
 Appear'd above the world's control. 
 This history of my country told. 
 And bid me keep the tale as gold : — 
 
 " ' Alfred, remember this ; thine eye 
 
 Must read it oft in memory : 
 
 Let it be shrined with Heaven's laws. 
 
 And brace thy nerves to Freedom's cause. 
 
 Our forefathers — the proud, the free. 
 
 The noble sons of bravery. 
 
 Who knew but to contend, defy ! 
 
 To be victorious or to die ! — 
 
 Now sleep unconscious in their graves : 
 
 Their children bend as Roman slaves ; 
 
 Aye ! bear the iron chain and yoke 
 
 Of those who fled when Brennus spoke.
 
 OR, THE LAST OF THE DRUIDS. 119 
 
 Answering to Vengeance's deep call ; 
 
 Naked as the intrepid Gaul, 
 
 Divested of each thing could be 
 
 A trophy for her enemy ; 
 
 Her hearth stones burnt, her harvests trod ; 
 
 Spurning proud Rome's detested rod ; — 
 
 Our country on Dariorig's (59) plain 
 
 Rallied for freedom ; but in vain 
 
 Did bravest bravery do all 
 
 That manly daring could, her fall 
 
 The gods had doom'd that hour should come, 
 
 And Gaulish Britain fell to Rome, — 
 
 Compell'd for centuries to covs^er 
 
 Beneath her changing iron power. 
 
 " ' But, oh ! the future opens now ; 
 
 I feel it with the sanguine glow 
 
 Of prophecy ; yes, there I see 
 
 The vista of Futurity 
 
 Open before me : help my sight, 
 
 Ye gods ! to bear this beaming light.
 
 120 AGABUS ; 
 
 " ' Rome ! Rome shall fall, 'tis Heaven's high will; 
 
 Although the time be distant — still 
 
 That time shall come, when it shall pour 
 
 Its wrath upon her grasping power. 
 
 Sprung from the she-wolf's milk, her breast 
 
 Has ever been the she-wolf's nest ; 
 
 And Rome, while Rome a power sustains. 
 
 Will show the she- wolf in her veins. — 
 
 But not, not yet her final doom. — 
 
 Yet must earth be the slave of Rome, 
 
 Still iron-yoked, and chain'd the same. 
 
 But slavery with a holier name ; 
 
 While she herself, with up-raised rod. 
 
 Mocks the meek mercy of her God ; 
 
 Glories again to steep her hand 
 
 In human gore ; or lights the brand 
 
 Of discord, treachery, shrinking fear. 
 
 Of agony and wild despair; 
 
 Then gives her fearful power of ruth 
 
 The names of Mercy and of Truth ; 
 
 Making e'en monarch's necks to be
 
 OR, THE LAST OF THE DRUIDS. 121 
 
 Her footstools of humility. 
 But Britain's glorious soil shall be 
 The land shall seal her destiny. 
 Scorn'd now in even her own lair, 
 And hunted from it by despair, 
 Her tyrannies have taught to turn. 
 And taught even herself to spurn. 
 She comes, and still in her last hour 
 Gnashes her broken teeth for power. 
 I see the time, though distant far ; 
 It comes when Britain's glorious star 
 In her meridian shall be seen 
 More glorious than she yet has been. 
 Aye ! then shall come one struggle more. 
 For Rome to grasp Britannia's shore. 
 On steps of avarice she twines 
 Her iron chain around its shrines ; 
 And all its free-born sons would bring 
 Crouching to kiss her sandal's string ; 
 Seeking by darkness to control 
 The spirit of Britannia's soul ; 
 Striving to bind with chain of steel.
 
 122 AGABUS ;. 
 
 Britannia to her chariot-wheel ; 
 Would make her sons in slavery bow. 
 Like her own slaves she crushes now. 
 This her last effort, her last blow, — 
 Rome's glory is departed now.' 
 
 " He paused — tears gushing from his eye ; 
 Then with redoubled energy 
 Continued — 
 
 " ' Centuries shall pass. 
 And each the other shall surpass 
 In glory. Then a woman's smile 
 Shall shed its light on Britain's isle. 
 And proudly to the world shall prove 
 The sovereignty of woman's love. 
 Well may the sceptre grace her hand. 
 Her woman's soul ; for her loved land 
 Would soak its soil with one deep flood 
 Of her heart's gentle, faithful blood, 
 Ere aught should dare to dim the name 
 Of her loved country's spotless fame ;
 
 OR, THE LAST OF THE DRUIDS. 123 
 
 Or even breathe a breath should lower 
 Its honour or its rightful power, 
 Firmly to all its weal she clings ! — 
 (Most blest of all its line of kings !) 
 Aye, the mere wild flower of its sod, 
 To her is love's gift of her God. 
 
 " ' Let the whole world assembled come 
 And see her in her island home ; 
 Where all its sons, the very least. 
 Proudly enthrones her in his breast, 
 With feelings that awake the whole 
 Enthusiasm of manhood's soul. 
 
 " ' But while each round her blessing sheds, 
 And almost worships where she treads, 
 Her faith I her fondness ! honour ! — prove 
 Her regal title to that love.' 
 
 " Triumphant beam'd the old man's eye : 
 He bless'd her of his prophecy ;
 
 124 AGABUS ; OR, THE LAST OF THE DRUIDS. 
 
 Bless'd her with beauty, wealth, and power; 
 
 Bless'd her with virtue's richest dower ; 
 
 Bless'd her with one, who turns to bless 
 
 In deep affection's faithfulness ; 
 
 Bless'd those fair beings to earth has bound her, 
 
 Springing in ecstacy around her ; 
 
 Bless'd those she loved, and bless'd the day 
 
 When Britain own'd 2^irtoria'^ sway. 
 
 " This was his last expiring breath ; 
 So clear, I could not deem it death. 
 So brightly closed the Arch-Druid's eye 
 In glory, scarce he seem'd to die ; 
 He merely seem'd to change, and be 
 Heaven's bless'd herald of futurity ! "
 
 NOTES TO AOABUS.
 
 NOTES. 
 
 1. Augia. — p. 3. 
 
 AuGiA, according to fable, was the name of Jersey at the 
 time of the Druids : it afterwards bore that of Csesaria. This, 
 with the other Channel islands, was comprised in the ancient 
 dominions of the Celts, whose priests were those Diniids so 
 celebrated for their wisdom and mysterious rites. 
 
 2. A brighter being than earth's cold son of ill — 
 A brighter being, yet a Druid still ! — p. 4. 
 
 The Druids believed that the soul after death was trans- 
 migrated into a higher sphere. They believed that both 
 spirit and matter were eternal ; that the world, unchangeable 
 in its substance, varied constantly in its form, under the in- 
 fluence of two agencies — fire and water ; the soul in quitting 
 the body, passed into a superior or inferior sphere according 
 as it had deserved rewards or punishments. " There are for 
 the soul," observes The Triads, " three circles of existence : 
 first, the circle of infinity and immateriality, where the Deity
 
 128 NOTES. 
 
 alone could live or dwell ; secondly, the circle of a necessary 
 state (of origin or trial), inhabited by the being who draws 
 his existence from matter ; and man goes through this circle ; 
 thirdly, the circle of felicity, inhabited by the being who 
 dx'aws his existence from what is animate ; and man penetrates 
 through this to heaven." And further on — " Three causes 
 make man return to the circle of trial : first, negligence in 
 instructing himself ; secondly, his little love of good ; thirdly, 
 his adherence to evil. The man who had lived well, resumed 
 in the circle of felicity his passions and his habits ; the warrior 
 refound his weapons and his horse ; the huntsman his dogs 
 and his javelins ; and the pi-iest his faithful followers. News 
 was sent of the living to the dead upon the pyre's flame : 
 letters were thrown upon the bodies either for themselves or 
 other deceased. Money could be lent on earth payable in 
 a future state ; and necessarily such wonderful and wild con- 
 ceptions became the sources of the most awful, the most 
 sublime, and the most fearful sacrifices," — Translation of 
 " Histoire de la Bretagne, par Pitre Chevalier, dedie' au 
 Comte de Chateaubriand." 
 
 3. And let it be our little island's pride, 
 
 That on its shores the last old Druids died. — p. 4, 5. 
 
 " Proscrits et de'pouille's, les pretres gaulois se refugierent 
 au milieu des forets, et dans les ilots dont sont parseniees les 
 cotes des deux Bretagnes." — Histoire des Peuples Bretons, par 
 Aurelien de Coursin. 
 
 " Nous pouvous assurer, en general, que toutes les petites 
 isles situ^es dans I'Ocean Britanique, taut celles qui avoi- 
 siuoient I'Angleterre, que celles qui etoient le long des cotes 
 des Gauls, etoient ou desertes entierement, ou habitues seule-
 
 NOTES. UQ 
 
 ment par des Druides ou Druidesses." — Religion des Gaulois, 
 Dom Martin, torn. ii. lib. iii. chap. xiv. 
 
 " Le culte proscrit continua d'etre preclid avec ferveur, 
 notamment, par I'Arch-Druide Merlin, dans le 5™^ siecle et 
 long temps apres lui ; jusqu'au 7"^® siecle le culte des Druides 
 continua d'exister concurremment avec le polytheisme et avec 
 le culte Chretien. 
 
 " L'ile de la Bretagne acquit une haute cele'brite pour 
 tout ce qui concernait la niMgie ; cette ile ainsi que les 
 petites iles de I'archipele Armoricain en e'taient le theatre, et 
 mirent la re'putation des Druides au dessus meiue de celles des 
 Mages et des Perses." — Histoire des Gaulois, Ame'dee Thierry 
 
 "Un fait n'est point a douter c'est que long temps apres 
 I'etablissement du Christianisme dans les Gauls, une partie de 
 l'ile de la Bretagne, et de la peninsule Armoricaine, etait 
 encore plonge'e dans I'idolatrie. 
 
 " Dans la partie do la Grande Bretagne occupee par les 
 anciens possesseurs du pays, le Christianisme ne parvint que 
 trestard a detruire les pi-atiquesde I'ancieune religion national. 
 (Gr^goire, lib. 14.) L'el^nient druidique ne disparut meme 
 pas completement apres la victoire de la nouvelle foi. L'e'glise 
 pour ne point froisser ces ames energiques et tenaces, respecta 
 des usages anciens, tout ce qui n'etait pas en opposition au 
 dogmes etables par le Christ ; et laissa subsister uue certaiue 
 racine antique qui etait bonne, les ^veques de la Gaule, les 
 Druides Chretiens." — Histoire des Peuples Bretons, par A. 
 Coursin, p. 49. 
 
 That it was a long time before Christianity was established 
 in Augia, is evident. The earliest church there — that of St. 
 Brelades — bearing the late date of the twelfth century.
 
 130 NOTES. 
 
 4. Has from the holy rock oj liijht. — p. 5. 
 
 The rock of Rocqucbert. Ilocquc, " Rock," old French ; 
 "Bert, beophc, Saxon, bright, famous." — Bailey's Dictionary. 
 
 5. And in the Grove another's eye. — p. 5. 
 
 The way in which the Chaldeans, or Chasdenas, from the 
 very beginning observed the horoscope of any nativity, was 
 this : — A Chaldean sat at night-time in his lofty observatory 
 contemplating the stars ; another sat by the woman until such 
 time as she was delivered, when he signified that event to 
 him who was astronomically engaged, which as soon as he had 
 heard, he observed the sign then rising for the horoscope ; 
 but in the day he attended to the ascendants and the sun's 
 motion. — J. Landseer's " Sabean Researches." 
 
 6. By the great brazen hull I swear. — p. 10. 
 
 The bull was held sacred by the Gauls. — Borlase's " An- 
 tiquities." 
 
 " Plutarque fournit encore une preuve evidente du culte 
 des Gaulois pour le taureau, (il dit sur un article de traite,) 
 qu'ils jurerent d'observer les articles du traite sur leur tau- 
 reau d'airaiu." — Histoire des Gaulois, Dom Martin, tom. ii. 
 
 7. Rocquehert, thou mount of demons' home, — p. 14. 
 
 This, the celebrated Witch-rock of the island, has obtained 
 a high position in superstition's eye, which nature's fanciful 
 arrangement has given birth to. Quite on the summit the 
 rock assumes the appearance of an old hag in a sitting 
 position ; in another point of view is the outline of a colossal
 
 NOTES. 131 
 
 figure of a man with his back fastened to the stone : other 
 dreaded signs are the indented marks of cloven feet, and a 
 mystei'ious channel, oi', as it is locally termed, wheel-rut. 
 These singular freaks of some antediluvian convulsions have 
 given rise amongst the ignorant to traditions without number ; 
 and even in this enlightened day the old idea of witches 
 holding their orgies there on a Friday night is still believed 
 by many of the peasantry. 
 
 8. Fur, when the robe of power he took, 
 
 No Mood e'er stain'd the golden hook. — p. 17- 
 
 " The Druids have a superintendent to whom they are sub- 
 ject, upon whose decease the most worthy succeeds ; but if 
 there happen to be several candidates, the election is decided 
 by a majority of votes, and sometimes by the sword." — Caesar 
 Com. Gal., book vi. 8. 
 
 9. For truths the sage Tcdiesin taught. — p. 20. 
 
 Hanes Taliesin. In former times there was in Pennlyn, 
 " The End of the Lake," a man of noble descent, his name 
 Tegid Voel, " Bald Serenity," and his paternal estate was in 
 the middle of the lake Tegid or Pemblemere. 
 
 His espoused wife was named Ceridwin ; by this wife he 
 had a son, Mororan ap Tegid, " Raven of the Sea, the Son of 
 Serenity," and a daughter called Creinyw or Creirwy, "Tlie 
 Token of the Egg" — the sacred token of life : — she was the 
 most beautiful damsel in the world. 
 
 But these children had a brother named Avagddu, " Utter 
 Darkness," or " Black Accumulations." Ceridwm, the mother 
 of this deformed son, concluded in her mind that he would 
 have but little chance of being admitted into respectable com- 
 
 K 2
 
 132 NOTES. 
 
 pany unless he were endowed with some honourable accom- 
 plishments or sciences. 
 
 Tlien she determined, agreeably to the mystery of the 
 books of Phcryllt, to prepare for her son a cauldron of Awen 
 a Gwybodeu, " Water of Inspiration and Sciences," that he 
 might more readily be admitted into honourable society upon 
 account of his knowledge and his skill in regard to futurity. 
 The cauldron began to boil, and it was requisite that the 
 boiling should be continued without interruption for the 
 period of a year and a day, and till three blessed drops of the 
 endowment could be obtained. 
 
 She had Gwion, "the Little," the son of Gwriang, the 
 herald of Llanvair, the fane of the lady, in Caer Einiawn, 
 "the City of the Just," in Powys, "the Land of Rest," 
 to superintend the preparation of the cauldron ; and she 
 had appointed a blind man named Morda, " Ruler of 
 the Sea," to kindle the fire under the cauldron, with a 
 strict injunction that he should not suffer the boiling to 
 be interrupted before the completion of the year and the 
 day. 
 
 In the mean time Ceridwin, with due attention to the books 
 of astronomy, and to the hours of the planets, employed her- 
 self daily in botanizing and in collecting plants of every species 
 which possessed rare virtues. 
 
 On a certain day about the completion of the year, while 
 she was thus botanizing and muttering to herself, three drops 
 of the efficacious water happened to fly out of the cauldron 
 and alight upon the finger of Gwion the Little. The heat of 
 the water occasioned his putting his finger in his mouth. As 
 soon as these precious drops had touched his lips, every event 
 of futurity was opened to his view, and he clearly perceived 
 that his greatest concern was to be aware of the sti'atagems of
 
 NOTES. 133 
 
 Ceridwiu, whose knowledge was very gi'cat : with extreme 
 terror he fled towards his native country. 
 
 As for the cauldron, it divided into two halves, for the whole 
 of the water it contained, excepting the three eflicacious drops, 
 was poisonous, so that it poisoned the horses of Gwyddno 
 Garanhu', which drank of the channel into which the cauldron 
 emptied itself. Hence that channel was afterwards called 
 « The Channel of Gwyddno's Horses." 
 
 Ceridwin entering in just at this moment, and perceiving 
 lier whole year's labour was entirely lost, seized an oar and 
 struck the blind Morda on the head, so that one of his eyes 
 dropped down on his cheek. 
 
 " Thou hast disiigured me wrongfully," exclaimed Morda, 
 " seeing I am innocent ; thy loss lias not been occasioned by 
 any fault of mine." 
 
 " True," replied Ceridwin, " it was Gwion the Little who 
 robbed me." Having pronounced these words, she began to 
 run in pursuit of him. 
 
 Gwion perceiving her at a distance, transformed himself 
 into a hare, and doubled his speed ; but Ceridwin instantly be- 
 coming a greyhound, turned him, and chased him down the 
 river. 
 
 Leaping into the stream, he assumed the form of a fish, but 
 his resentful enemy, who was now become an otter, traced him 
 down the stream, so that he was obliged to take the form of 
 a bird, and fly into the air. 
 
 That clement afforded him no refuge, for the lady, in the 
 form of a sparrow-hawk, was gaining on him. 
 
 Shuddering with the dread of death, he perceived a heap of 
 clean wheat upon a floor, dropped into the midst of it, and 
 assumed the form of a single grain. 
 
 Ceridwin took the form of a black high-crested hen, de-
 
 134 NOTES. 
 
 scended upon the wheat, scratched him out, distinguished and 
 swallowed him. She was pregnant of him nine months, and 
 when delivered of him, she found him so lovely a babe that 
 she had not resolution to put him to death. 
 
 She placed him however in a coracle, covered with a skin, 
 and, by the instigation of her husband, cast him into the sea 
 on the 29th of April. 
 
 In those times Gwyddno's wear stood out in the beach be- 
 tween Dyvi and Aberystwith, near his own castle, and in that 
 wear it was usual to take fish to the value of a hundred pounds 
 upon the 1st of May. Gwyddno had an only son named 
 Elphin, who had been a most unfortunate and necessitous 
 young man. This was a great affliction to his father, who 
 began to think that he had been born in an evil hour. 
 
 His counsellors however pei-suaded the father to let his son 
 have the drawing of the wear on that year, by way of experi- 
 ment, in order to prove whether any good fortune would ever 
 attend him, and that he might have something to begin the 
 world. 
 
 The next day, being May-eve, Elphin examined the wear, 
 and found nothing ; but, as he was going away, he perceived 
 the coracle, covered with the skin, resting upon the pole of 
 the dam. 
 
 Then one of the wear-men said to him, " Thou hast never 
 been completely unfortunate before this night ; for now thou 
 hast destroyed the virtue of the wear, in which the value of a 
 hundred pounds was always taken upon the eve of May- day." 
 
 " How so ? " replied Elphin, " that coracle may possibly con- 
 tain the value of a hundred pounds." 
 
 The skin was opened, and the opener perceiving the fore- 
 head of the infant, said to Elphin, " Taliesin, radiant front." 
 " Radiant front be his name," said the prince, who now lifted
 
 NOTES. 135 
 
 the infant in his arms, commiserating his own misfortunes, 
 and placed him behind him on liis horse, as it had been in the 
 most easy chair. 
 
 Immediately after tliis the babe composed for Elphin a song 
 of consolation and praise, at the same time he prophesied his 
 future renown. The consolation was the first hymn that 
 Taliesin sung in order to comfort Elphin, who was grieved for 
 his disappointment in the draught of the wear, and still more 
 so as he thought that the world would impute the fault and 
 misfortune entirely to himself. 
 
 Elphin carries the new-born babe to the castle, and presents 
 him to his father, who demands whether he was a human 
 being or a spirit, and is answered in a mystical song, in which 
 he professes himself a general primary bard, who had existence 
 in all ases, and identifies his own character with that of the sun. 
 
 Gwyddno, astonished at his proficiency, demands another 
 sonji, and is answered as follows : — 
 
 -■oJ ' 
 
 " Ar y dwr," &c. 
 
 " Water has the power of conferring a blessing. 
 It is meet to think rightly of God. 
 It is meet to pray earnestly to God ; 
 because the benefits that proceed from Him cannot be 
 impeded. 
 
 " Thrice have I been born ; I know how to meditate ; it is 
 woful that men will not come to seek all the sciences of the 
 world which are treasured in my bosom, for I know all that 
 has been, and all that will be hereafter," &c. 
 
 The Gaulish tradition of Taliesin is almost precisely the 
 same as the Welsh.
 
 136 NOTES. 
 
 10. The iron collar that he wore 
 
 The vassal badge of Rigel bore. — p. 23. 
 
 " Par une nuit d'dtdqu'^clairait une lune brillaiite.uu homme 
 — Noil ! — Uu esclave gaulois, ear il avait la tete ras^e, portait 
 au cou un collier de fer poli." — Sue. 
 
 11. To see him kiss his father's sword. — p. 23. 
 
 " Every Gaul was a soldier. Each mother made her new- 
 born infant son kiss the naked blade of his father's swoi-d. 
 This was the baptism of infants." — Translation of Histoire de 
 la Bretagne, par Pitre Chevalier. 
 
 12. And the proud archive chest was full 
 
 With many a valiant tcarrior's scull. — p. 23. 
 
 "The heads of their enemies, which were the chiefest persons 
 of quality, they carefully deposit in chests, embalming them 
 with oil of cedar, and showing them to strangers. They 
 glory and boast that some of their ancestors, their fathers, or 
 themselves, though great sums have been offered for them, 
 yet have refused to accept them ; some glory so much on this 
 account, that they refuse to take for one of these heads its 
 weight in gold." — Diodorus of Sicily, b. v. c. 2. et Strabo, lib. iv. 
 
 13. Sweet Tuhd /—p. 30. 
 
 From the remains on Mont Tubel having been found so near 
 Rocquebert, the Peulvin stone being about midway between 
 the two, the distance of not a quarter of a mile, it is not im- 
 probable that in the age of Druidism those natural pecu- 
 jiarities of the rock, fi-om which even now superstition extracts
 
 NOTES. 1:J7 
 
 her fears, may have been in some way linked with a faith 
 whose stony pages were sought for in every thing marvellous 
 in nature that could support its power. 
 
 From the peculiar position of Mont Tubel immediately op- 
 posite, and within sight of the Mount of St. Michael, the Tuni- 
 beline of Armorica, the author of this little work considers 
 that the appellation of IMont Tubel is the record of ancient 
 tradition ; for although the deed extant that mentions it in a 
 conveyance of land writes Jlont Hube, yet at the period when 
 those deeds were written, education was at so low an ebb in 
 the island, that, in all probability, the word would be written 
 according to the mere caprice or ear of the scrivener. There 
 are other reasons, too long for comment, which give sufficient 
 support for the poetic licence taken against our old island 
 orthography. 
 
 The remains uncovered, and which are at present totally 
 unknown to the scientific world, are allowed by the one or two 
 learned men who have seen them to be, from their unique 
 arrangement, some of the most curious and as yet the most 
 incomprehensible ever found. They were discovered in the 
 year 1847, hy James Bolt, a market gardener, who deeming 
 the stones he saw above the surface were the head of a 
 quai'ry, proceeded to open the ground for that purpose, when it 
 was found they bore a regularly arranged form, and on furth(!r 
 investigation, the present curious remain of antiquity was 
 discovered. The land belongs to Charles Ramier, Esq., who, 
 with a spirit worthy of his taste, intends protecting to our 
 island a relic such as England cannot show, and that tells of 
 old Augia's by-gone days of learning and of glory. 
 
 14. The gold upon the temple's floor. — p. 32. 
 
 The custom observed by the higher Gauls in the temple of
 
 138 NOTES. 
 
 their gods is admirably remarkable ; for in their oratories 
 and sacred temples of this country, in honour of their gods, 
 they scatter jiicces of gold up and down, which none of the 
 inhabitants, their superstitious devotion is such, will in the 
 least touch or meddle with, though the Gauls are of themselves 
 extremely covetous." — Diodorus, b. v. c. 2. ; Ccesar 0. 
 
 15. The living stone was wrapt in gloom. — p. 32. 
 
 " In Genesis (chap, xxviii.), Jacob erects a stone, which 
 action gave rise to the custom of erecting pillars, called by the 
 Greeks Baitulia, which may be supposed to derive its origin 
 from Bethel. The heathen Baitulia were supposed to be ani- 
 mated by the god to whom they were consecrated. Sancho- 
 niathon says that Ouranus invented them, having made stones 
 that possessed life. The rocking-stones of the Druids may 
 have been designed to perpetuate the same superstition." — 
 Archseologia, vol. xxv. page 204. 
 
 Mr. Borlase, in speaking of the Logan stones, says, " It is 
 not improbable that the Druids, so well versed in the arts of 
 magic, observing the uncommon property of the natural Logan 
 stone, soon learned to make use of it as a miracle ; and where 
 they had no natural ones, made artificial ones and consecrated 
 them. They then imagined spirits to inhabit them ; and this 
 motion it is likely they insisted on as a proof of these spirits 
 residing in them." — Borlase's Antiquities, p. 192. 
 
 16. And pointed to the Peuhin stone. — p. 32. 
 
 " Menhir (long stone), or Peulvin (upright stone), guarded 
 the approach of the temples." — Histoire de la Bi'etagne, 
 Chevalier.
 
 NOTES. 139 
 
 17- To him tJie water from his well 
 
 Was sweeter than the hydromel. — p. 43. 
 
 " Les Gaulois composaient divers sortes de boissons fer- 
 raent^es ; telles que la biere d'orge, appel^e Cervisa, la biei*e 
 de froment mele'e de miel, appelee riiydromel."— Histoire des 
 Gaulois, Thierry, and Diodoi-us, &c. 
 
 1 8. For vengeance never waken'd up 
 
 Its passions from that crystal cup. — p. 43. 
 
 " Les Gaulois apres des repas copieux, dit Posidonius, aiment 
 a prendre les armes et a se provoquer mutuellement a des 
 duels simules." — Histoire des Gaulois, Thierry. 
 
 19. The trophies on his humble door, 
 
 The owlefs grey wing, and no more. — p. 43. 
 
 " They fasten those that they have killed in battle over 
 the door of their houses, as if they were so many wild beasts 
 taken in hunting." — Diodorus. 
 
 20. His rough formed pipe. — p. 43. 
 
 " Le patre tranquillement assis sur les debris d'une porte 
 d^cumane, pressait sous son Ijras une autre gonflde de vent, 
 il animait aussi une espdce de flute double, dont les sons avait 
 une douceur selon son gout." — Les Martyrs. 
 
 21. That little spiry roof to her. — p. 45. 
 
 " The houses of the Gauls were circular, with high pointed 
 roofs." — Tacitus.
 
 140 NOTES. 
 
 22. Couldst thou hear Agabus reliearse 
 
 Our glorious Pagan's sacred verse. — j). 70. 
 
 The mode of iiistx'uction of the Druids was purely oral, ac- 
 cording to CiBsar. The disciples continued sometimes twenty 
 years under instruction, during which time they committed to 
 memory the poetic verses of their faith. 
 
 23. JIow Aldebaran's glorioux light. — p. 70. 
 
 "The large and bright star in the head of Taurus was by the 
 Arabians called Al Debaran, — that is, foremost or leading 
 star, — because at the commencement of their year. When 
 it rose heliacally, it led off the heavenly host." — J. Landseer's 
 " Sabean Researches." 
 
 24. Alath.—p. 79. 
 
 The ancient name of the town of St, Malo. 
 
 25. To weep within the cromlech tomb. — p. 83. 
 
 " That the cromlech or cromleh was in its original destina- 
 tion a sepulchral monument, will appear beyond a doubt." — 
 Borlase's Antiquities. 
 
 26. The rites are all prepared to show 
 The annieersM-i/ ofivoe. — p. 84. 
 
 The custom of periodical lamentation for the dead is men- 
 tioned in Holy Writ : " And Jeremiah lamented for Josiali : 
 and all the singing men and the singing women spake of Josiah 
 in their lamentations to this day, and made them an ordinance 
 in Israel." — 2 Chron. xxxv. 25.
 
 NOTES. 141 
 
 " Osiris of Egypt was supposed to be dead or absent forty 
 days each year, during which the people lamented his loss as 
 the Syrians do Adonis." — J. Laudseer's " Saboan Researches." 
 
 27. The weeping women ready are. — p. 84. 
 
 The custom of calling persons to mourn has Biblical au- 
 thority : " Thus saith the Lord of hosts, Consider ye, and call 
 for the mourning women, that they may come" (Jer. ix. 17). 
 " And they shall call the husbandman to mourning, and such 
 as are skilful of lamentation to wailing" (Amos v. U). 
 
 28. And I it is who read the star. — p. 84. 
 
 That the Druids borrowed their religion from tlie East, we 
 know. On a subject so hidden under the veil of oblivion as 
 the minutite of the Druidic rites, the imagination, particularly 
 that of a mere unlettered woman, may be allowed to form its 
 specuhition on the but faint authority that a broken and dis- 
 jointed history only leaves us ; and as no authority within the 
 authoress' hmited knowledge controverts the idea, she takes 
 the poetic license of supposing those covered monuments such 
 as Kitscotty House, Langon, and others of a similar nature, 
 to be lachrjTnosial tombs, made to receive and protect from the 
 accidents of weather one or more of those weeping women 
 whose business it was to honour the dead by yeai-ly lamenta- 
 tions, and who might at the annual setting of the titular star 
 of the deceased, commemorate his death by those wailings 
 recorded both in sacred and profane history. And as in all 
 . nations, in all circumstances of death the priesthood have ever 
 held a conspicuous position, it is not to be suppos.^d they would 
 have allowed themselves to be dispensed with to repeat the 
 legend of the deceased's plan' t : this, however, is not meant
 
 142 NOTES. 
 
 as a learned assertion. These lachrymosial tombs, then, arc 
 but a woman's conceptions to serve a poetic purpose ; but on 
 wliich an observation was necessary to render the passage 
 intelligible. 
 
 29. Nor seek from him for legend's store. — p. 84. 
 
 " The Gauls are such passionate lovers of novelty, that they 
 stop the passengers upon the road, and oblige them to declare 
 all the news they have heard before they let them proceed to 
 their journey." — Ctesar, lib. iii. 
 
 30. But I will drag through Bis's might. — p. 92. 
 
 " The Gauls do report themselves descended from Dis the 
 father of Hell ; and they say the Druids do so tell them." — 
 Csesar, 6. 
 
 31. Let the wing' d herald bear my tcill. — p. 93. 
 
 " lis etaient accompagnes d'un heraut d'armes vetu en 
 blanc, convert d'un chapeau surmonte d'ailes, et tenant en sa 
 main une branche de verveine entouree de deux serpents." — 
 Chateaubriand. 
 
 Of all the gods they worship chiefly Mercury. — Cfesar, 6. 
 
 32. With streaming red hair, through the grove.— p. 94. 
 
 " They often wash their hair with water boiled with lime, and 
 turn it backwards from the forehead to the crown of the 
 head, and thence to their very necks, that their faces may be 
 more fully seen." — Diodorus, lib. v.
 
 NOTES. H.'i 
 
 33. Hastening, lest Vega should rehearse 
 
 On them the lagging crane's dread curse. — p. 94. 
 
 " lis ne parait point que les Gauls ayent jamais honore les 
 corbeaux, au lieu qu'on ne pent point douter qu'ils n'ayent 
 honore non seulement les grues en general, mais encore trois 
 grues en particulier. Enfin rien ne marque mieux la venera- 
 tion que les Gaulois avaient pour les grues, que le soin qu'ils 
 avaient pour les imiter. Les graes, au rapport des naturalistes, 
 comme oiseau de passage, s'assemblaient tons les ans pour aller 
 chercher ensemble un climat plus doux, et mettent en pieces 
 la grue qui arrive la derniere au rendez-vous ; de meme quand 
 les Gaulois s'assemblaient pour les interets de I'etat, il en 
 coutait la vie toujours a celui qui venoit le dernier." — Dom 
 Martin, torn. ii. and Thierry, torn. ii. 
 
 34. The sacred banner hung unfurVd. — p. 95. 
 
 " Les Druides d'Autun attribuaientune gi'ande vertu a I'ceuf 
 du serpent. lis avaient pour armoiries dans leur bannieres 
 d'azur, a la couchee des serpents d'argent, sui-monte d'un 
 gui de chene, garni de ses sinoples." — St. Foix. 
 
 35. Agahus stands in robes of white. — p. 95. 
 White was the colour only used by the Druids. 
 
 36. Begirted by a golden band. 
 
 While golden bracelets deck'd each hand. — p. 95. 
 
 '♦ The Arch-Druid dress consisted of flowing robes of white, 
 fastened with a golden band, with golden bracelets on his 
 arm." — liistoire de la Bretaj^ne.
 
 144 NOTES. 
 
 37. The mystic egg was seen to rest. — p. 95. 
 
 As opinions widely differ on the mysterious egg, I will men- 
 tion two authorities on the subject. 
 
 " Various are the opinions on this mystical symbol. Pliny 
 saw one of these eggs ; but he had not the curiosity to examine 
 any further than its cartilaginous integument, otherwise he 
 would probably have discovered that it contained either a lu- 
 nette of glass, or small ring of the same material, such as those 
 which the Welsh call Gleiniau Nadredd. These were certainly 
 insignia of a very sacred character amongst our ancestors : 
 and they seem to have been intimately acquainted with the 
 Anguinum ; for the annotator upon Camden remarks, that in 
 most parts of Wales, all over Scotland, and in Cornwall, the 
 vulgar still retain the same superstitious notions respecting 
 the origin and virtues of the former, which Pliny records of the 
 latter. And the glain was viewed as an emblem of renovation. 
 
 " That these glaius were artificial can hardly admit of a 
 doubt, though some have rashly confounded them with cer- 
 tain productions of nature. We find some of them blue, some 
 white, a third sort green, and a fourth regularly variegated 
 with all these sorts of colours, but still preserving the appear- 
 ance of glass ; whilst others again were composed of earth, 
 and only glazed over."— Davies' " Mythology and Rites of the 
 British Druids." 
 
 " Ce pretendu oeuf, qui parait bien n'avoir 6te autre chose 
 qu'une echinite ou petrifaction d'oursin de mer, presentait 
 la figure d'une pomme de moyenne grosseur, dont la sub- 
 stance dure et blanchatre etait recouverte de fibres, et d'ex- 
 croissances, pareilles au tenaiiles du polype. La religion 
 n'etait pas etrangfere au choix que les Druides avaient fait de 
 ce fossile, et ^ I'origine, qu'ils lui supposaient car ces idees
 
 NOTES. 145 
 
 d'oeuf et de serpent, rappellent I'ccuf cosmog^nique des my- 
 thologistes orientaux, ainsi que la metempsychose et Teternelle 
 renovation dont le serpent etait I'embleme. Au reste ils 
 repandaient sur la formation et sur la conquete de ce precieux 
 talisman des fables absurdes, auxquelles pourtant le plus celd- 
 bre des naturalistes Remains (Pline) semble ne pas refuser 
 croyance." — Histoire des Gaulois, Thierry. 
 
 38. The golden keys his office told.—'p. 96. 
 
 " Les chef des Druides avait des clefs pour symbole." — 
 St. Foix. 
 
 39. While the gold sacred sickle graced 
 
 The royal band that girt his waist. — p. 96. 
 
 The golden sickle was one of the badges of the Arch-Druid. 
 
 40. Tlie vereain Vega's forehead bound, — p. 96. 
 
 The vervain — verbena officinalis — was one of the most sacred 
 plants of the Druids. 
 
 41 . And the bright crescent on her brow. — p. 96. 
 
 " The lunette was a Druidic charm : it was the type of the 
 moon, which planet was the sign of Ccridwin." — Davies' 
 Mythology. 
 
 42. /« amber charm appeared to glow. — p. 96. 
 
 Amber was highly esteemed by the Druids, and greatly 
 made use of by them for amulets and charms. 
 
 43. On horse whose hoof upon the strand. — p. 102. 
 Caesar's horse had a particular celebrity ; foaled at Rome,
 
 146 NOTES. 
 
 in the stables of the proconsul, it was perceived that he cai'ried 
 on his hoof an impression like a hand. The augurs, consulted 
 on the subject, foretold that Cocsar would be master of the 
 world. 
 
 44. The battle-worn eleven. 
 
 Who on their hazel crutches came. — p. 103. 
 
 Monsieur de Villemarque has communicated a singular 
 monument of Dariorig. " The children in Lower Brittany," he 
 says, " repeat still a song, in which is mentioned the departure 
 of the Roman fleet for Nantz, and of its arrival at Vannes, and 
 of the terrible massacre of the Armorican Druids : the sub- 
 ject is a lesson given to a child by one of the Druids who has 
 escaped death, or else of some of tlieii- fugitive descendants 
 of whom Tacitus speaks. After having instructed his pupil 
 into how many parts human knowledge is divided, theology, 
 chronology, astronomy, magic, medicine, the chief ramifica- 
 tions of a whole that springs from unity, to stop at the number 
 twelve, the master arrives at history comprised under the 
 numbers ten and eleven. 
 
 "Druid. Beautiful and ingenuous disciple of the Druid, 
 answer me, all beautiful ! what shall I sing unto thee ? 
 
 " Child. Sing to me about the number ten, that I may learn 
 it to-day. 
 
 "Druid. Ten ships filled with enemies have been seen 
 coming from Nantz. Woe to you 1 woe to you ! men of 
 Vannes. Beautiful and ingenuous child of the Druid, all 
 beautiful ! what wantest thou of me ? what shall I sing to 
 thee? 
 
 " Cldld. Sing to me about the number eleven, that I may 
 learn it to-day. 
 
 " Druid. Eleven armed Druids come from Vannes, their
 
 NOTES. 147 
 
 swords broken, their garments stained with blood, leaning on 
 crutches of hazel wood : of three hundred, there remain but 
 eleven. 
 
 " In the Celtic traditions the hazel was a symbol of defeat." 
 — Histoire de la Bretagne. 
 
 45. Oh ! would that on the sacred isle. — p. 103. 
 
 The island of Sena, or Sen, at the mouth of the Loire, was 
 particularly sacred, and inhabited by only nine Druidesses, 
 greatly renowned for their learning and mysteries. 
 
 46. Ceridwin. — p. 104. 
 
 " The wife of Hu Gadarn. The Bards describe her as having 
 presided over the most hidden mysteries of their ancient su- 
 perstition, and as a person from whom alone the secrets of 
 their fanatical priesthood were to be obtained in purity and 
 perfection. They also intimate that it was requisite for those 
 who aspired to the chair of presidency, to have tasted the 
 waters of inspii'ation from her sacred cauldron, or in other 
 words, to have been initiated in her mysteries." — Davies' 
 Mythology of the Druids. 
 
 47. My xoice no more can quench the fire 
 
 Of human passion's maddening ire. — p. 104. 
 
 " Many times these philosophers (the Druids), stepping in 
 between two armies, when they are just ready to engage near 
 at hand with their swords drawn and spears presented one 
 against another, liave pacified thcra, as if some wild beasts 
 had been chained by enchantment." — Diodorus, lib. v. 
 
 L 2
 
 148 NOTES. 
 
 48. Give me thy counsel, not thy tear. — p. ] 04. 
 
 " Cetto rcput.ation des Druidesses n'ctait point renfcrnie 
 dans I'enceinte des Gauls ; elle volait partout, et faisait que 
 les Druidesses jouaient un fort grand role ; on les consultait de 
 toutes parts avec empressement, et leura d(?cisions dtaient prise 
 pour des oracles." — Dom Martin, torn. i. ch. 27. 
 
 49. llu Gadarn.—i^. 106. 
 
 The following particulars are recorded of him : — 
 
 " 1st. He lived at the time of the flood ; and 
 
 " 2nd. With his oxen he performed some achievement which 
 
 prevented the repetition of the calamitj', the overflowing of 
 
 the lake or deluge. Triad 97. 
 
 " 3rd. He first collected together, or carried the primitive 
 
 race ; and 
 
 " 4th. Formed them into communities of families. Triad 57- 
 " 5th. He first gave traditional laws for the regulation and 
 
 government of society. Triad 97. 
 
 " 6th. He was eminently distinguished for his regard to 
 
 justice, equity, and peace. Triad 5. 
 
 " 7th. He conducted several families of the first race to 
 
 their respective settlements in the various regions. Triad 4. 
 " 8th, But he had instructed this race in the art of hus- 
 bandry, previous to their removal and separation. Triad 56." 
 
 — Davies' Mythology, page 1 06. 
 
 50. That our spirits may be three. — p. 106. 
 
 Three was the sacred number of the Druids.
 
 NOTES. 149 
 
 51. But no ! it shall not fall ! a grave 
 Shall round Us worshipp'd altars rise 
 And save it from the sacrifice. — p. 106. 
 
 " The first Christian desecrators of the Celtic temples made 
 such iguorant and wanton havoc of pagan sanctuaries in every 
 country." — Archceologia, vol. xxv. page 104. 
 
 52. Our gods call now, 'Au gui Van neuff — p. 106. 
 
 " Le gui du cheue, plante parasite, qui s'attache au chene, 
 et qui etait regarde'e conime sacree chez les Druides. Au 
 mois de Decembre, qu'on appelait le mois saere, ils allaient 
 le cueillir en grande cer^monie. Les De'vins marchaient les 
 premiers, en chantant, et le he'raut venait suivi de trois Druides 
 portant les choses pour le sacrifice. Enfin paraissait le chef 
 des Druides accompagn^ de tout le peuple. II montait sur le 
 cheue, coupait le gui, avec une feuille d'or le plongeait dans 
 I'eau lustrale, en criant 
 
 '■'■^ Au gui Van neuf " 
 
 Dictionaire Infernal de Magie, aussi Jules Janm et A.Thierry. 
 " La nuit dtait descendue, la jeune fille s'aiTeta non loin de 
 la pierre du Dolmen, frappa trois fois ses mams en prononfant 
 ce mot mysterieux — 
 
 ' Au gui Van neuf.' 
 
 A I'instant je vis briller dans la profondeur du bois niillo 
 lumieres, chaque chene enfanta pour ainsi dire un Gaulois, 
 les barbares sortireut en foule de leurs retraites, les uns ^taient 
 conipletement armes, les autres portaient une branche de 
 chene a la main droit, et un flambeau a la gauche." — Chateau- 
 briand.
 
 150 NOTES. 
 
 53. 'Tis done.— ik]07. 
 
 The fact of the temple of Tubel having been found en- 
 tombed is not a singular one, and it owes the preservation of 
 its very peculiar arrangement, in all probability, to that cir- 
 cumstance, as the smaller stones could so easily have been 
 removed for building purposes, or thrown down by ignorant 
 fanaticism. 
 
 The temple of St. Holier, said by the learned to be a Dru- 
 idical temple of the sun, discovered in the island in the year 
 1785, and removed to Park Place, Oxfordshire, was found 
 similarly buried ; and antiquaries have affii'nied that nume- 
 rous monuments of a like description lie entombed in the 
 same manner under our soil. That the island must liave at 
 one time held a high position amongst the Druids is proved by 
 the fact stated in the history of Jei'sey, by Mr. Poingdester, 
 that his own knowledge was acquainted with the existence of 
 fifty temples or altars now almost all totally destroyed by the 
 increase of population, and the consequent conversion of land 
 into agricultural purposes, and the island is but twelve miles 
 long, varying from five to seven in breadth. 
 
 54. The war spearh bell. — p. 108. 
 
 " Les armes de guerre. Des sabres de cuivre et des lances 
 a fer tranchant, et recourbe, orne d'une clochette d'airain 
 afiu d'annoncer de loin a I'ennemi I'arrive'e du guerrier Gaulois, 
 parceque celui-ci a dedaigne' les ambuscades." — Eugene Sue. 
 
 55. The war dog's cry." — p. 108. 
 " Canis Belgicus." — Strabo.
 
 NOTES. 151 
 
 56. The sacred friends lie side by side. — p. 108. 
 
 It was a custom amongst the Gauls for two friends to swear 
 fealty to each other ; they were then called " Salduues," and 
 always kept their vows of fidelity with pious devotion. 
 
 "Jenevous oublirai pas couple ge'ue'reux, jeunes Francs, 
 que j'ai rencontre' au champ de carnage. Les fideles amis, plus 
 tendi-es que prudent, s'e'taient attaches ensemble par une chaine 
 de fer. L'un e'tait tombe mort sous la fleche d'un Crdtois ; 
 I'autre atteint d'une blessm-e cruel, mais encore vivant, se 
 tenoit a demi souleve' aupres de son frere d'armes. II lui 
 disait, ' Guerrier, tu dors apres tes fatigues de bataille, tu 
 n'ouvriras plus les yeux a ma voix, mais la chaine de notre 
 amitie n'est point rompue, elle me retient a tes cotes.' En 
 achevant ces mots le jeune Franc s'incline et meurt sur le 
 corps de son ami."— Cliateaubriand, et Histoii-e de France, 
 Anquetil. 
 
 57. Oh may my blood upon this grave. 
 
 Old Agabus, thy loved blood save. — p. 114. 
 
 One of the tenets of the Gauls was, that the gods would 
 accept the sacrifice of one life to save another. 
 
 58. Carnac. — p. 115. 
 
 " The noblest of Celtic monuments, the temple of Carnac, in 
 Brittany. This great Celtic monument, generally known as 
 ' the Stones of Carnac,' is eight miles in length."— Archoe- 
 ologia, vol. XXV. 
 
 " Une tradition constat^e parmi les Bretons est que la 
 contr(?e de Carnac, on Carnat, pres d'Auray dans I'ancienne 
 basse Bretagnc, (Jtait principalement cousacrce au culte que
 
 152 NOTES. 
 
 les pretres gaulois rendaieut a la divinitd, on peut conjecturer 
 avec assez de vraisemblance que le lieu chosi par les Druides 
 dc I'Armoriee, et par ceux de I'ile de la Bretagne, pour leurs 
 re'unions communes et pour leurs assemblees ge'ndrales e'tait 
 Carnae. L'on y decouvre une foule de monuments qui sem- 
 blent I'attester. Parmi ces monuments qui annon9ent le 
 gout du gigantesque et les plus grandes difficultt'S vaincus, on 
 distingue ]jlusieurs rangs d'enormes pierres, qui s'etcndent ;i 
 une grand distance, en fil symetrique, et ^cart^s les unes des 
 autres d'environ trois toises. Leur ^Idvation commune est de 
 douze a vingt pieds, et quelquefois d'avantage." 
 
 59. Our country on Darior'igh flain. — p. 119. 
 
 " Le massacre de tons les se'nateurs de Dariorig, la vente, 
 sous la lame, de la plus grande partie des re'belles, apprirent 
 an Gauls comment Cesar savait punir la r^volte. 
 
 " La puissance des V^netes fut aneantie pour toujours- 
 " Ce fut le dernier effort tent^ par les cite's Armoricaines 
 pour recouvrir leurs independance." — Histoire des Peuples 
 Brdtons, Aurelien de Coursin.
 
 I KNOW not how to end this little poem more appropriately 
 than by closing it with the following beautiful lines, published 
 some years ago in a periodical work. 
 
 "THE DYING DRUID. 
 
 " Wild terror frowning on his crest, 
 And fury burning in his breast. 
 What time the haughty Roman bore 
 The eagle dire to Mona's shore : 
 Of steelly arms the sanguine gleam 
 Terrific shone on Menai's stream ; 
 In deep form'd phalanx on the strand 
 The Britons brave the invading band, 
 And raise of battle loud the yell, 
 And long the hostile hosts repel. 
 
 " Oh ! bootless valour ! nought avails. 
 The giant power of Rome prevails. 
 With hands upraised to heaven, in vain 
 Their guardian gods the Druid ti-ain, 
 With faint and faltering voice, implored 
 To save them from the ruthless sword.
 
 154 THE DYING DRUID. 
 
 Gash'd with wounds and red with gore, 
 
 They he extended on the shore ; 
 
 Or forced upon the holy fire, 
 
 Writhing in agonies, expire. 
 
 Fast sinking to eternal rest, 
 
 Tlie life-blood streaming from his breast. 
 
 Stretched beneath the sacred oak. 
 
 Dying, this the Arch-Druid spoke : — 
 
 ' Oh ! most accurst, Oh ! fatal day ! 
 
 That bends us to tyi-annic sway ; 
 
 For ever fallen the British name. 
 
 Extinct for ever freedom's flame ; 
 
 No more beneath the hallow'd shade 
 
 Shall to the gods our thanks be paid ; 
 
 No more from us our youth shall leai'n 
 
 The unmanly fear of death to spurn ; 
 
 Or when their country calls shall fly 
 
 Prompt in her glorious cause to die. 
 
 They now must watch a tyrant's nod, 
 
 And learn with dread to view the rod ; 
 
 Must kneel, their cheeks suff'used with shame, 
 
 Before the murderers of their fame. 
 
 Oh ! native land ! than life more dear. 
 
 Thy hapless fate extorts a tear : 
 
 But soon these eyes closed in death's sleep. 
 
 Shall cease their countless woes to weep. 
 
 Would but the gods, with one bright ray 
 
 Of hope gild life's departing day. 
 
 Were but the hour of vengeance nigh. 
 
 My soul would unrepining fly ! 
 
 They hear ! they hear ! they grant my prayer 
 
 Light floating on the ambient air !
 
 THE DYING DRUID. 155 
 
 Before my sight, iu visions clear, 
 Scenes of futurity appear. 
 Behold ! behold ! with glorious mien 
 And thundering arms, the warrior queen, 
 Fierce rushing on her destined prey, 
 Sweeps to death their hosts away ; 
 Groans of the gasping mangled throng 
 Roll the banks of Thames along — 
 Soon on our sea-encircled shoi'e 
 Shall Rome's proud banner wave no more. 
 Alas ! not so, this heaven denies. 
 She dies, the glorious heroine dies. 
 
 " ' Lo from the bosom of the north 
 Burst the countless myriads forth ; 
 Band after band, in dire array, 
 Bend o'er Italia's vales their sway : 
 On thee, oh ! Rome, the deluge pours, 
 And sinks in dust thy haughty towers. 
 But Oh ! my country, to my eyes 
 What grand, what glorious scenes arise ! 
 Though oft the sun's returning ray 
 Shall see thee made an easy prey 
 Of every ruffian wandering band. 
 The mock of every happier land ; 
 Yet on the expanded roll of Time 
 I see the glorious beam sublime : 
 O'er the wide wave of every shore, 
 By thy intrepid legions bore, 
 In lands now hid from human eye, 
 I see thy conquering banners fly. 
 Rivals in vain, with envious gaze, 
 Shall scowling view thy splendid blaze
 
 loG THE DYING DRUID. 
 
 Awe sti'uck, low at thy feet shall kneel, 
 And dread thy just revenge to feel. 
 
 " ' Oh ! 'tis enough : ye gods, I come 
 Rejoicing to my eternal home.' 
 Thus, with prophetic ardour fired, 
 Spake the Arch Druid, and expired. 
 
 "R. A. Davenport." 
 
 THE END. 
 
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