The Creek of Four Graves

by Charles Harpur


I

I verse a Settler's tale of olden times 

One told me by our sage friend, Egremont;

Who then went forth, meetly equipt, with four 

Of his most trusty and adventrous men

Into the wilderness - went forth to seek

New streams and wider pastures for his fast

Augmenting flocks and herds.  On foot were all

For horses then were beasts of too great price

To be much ventured upon mountain routes,

And over wild wolds clouded up with brush,

And cut with marshes, perilously pathless.


So went they forth at dawn: and now the sun

That rose behind them as they journeyed out,

Was firing with his nether rim a range

Of unknown mountains that, like ramparts, towered

Full in their front; and his last glances fell

Into the gloomy forest's eastern glades

In golden massses, transiently, or flashed

Down to the windings of a nameless Creek,

That noiseless ran betwixt the pioneers

And those new Apennines - ran, shaded up

With boughs of the wild willow, hanging mixed

From either bank, or duskily befringed

With upward tapering feathery swamp-oaks - 

The sylvan eyelash always of remote

Australian waters, whether gleaming still

In lake or pool, or bickering along

Between the marges of some eager stream.


Before them, thus extended, wilder grew

The scene each moment - and more beautiful!

For when the sun was all but sunk below

Those barrier mountains, - in the breeze that o'er

Their rough enormous backs deep-fleeced with wood

Came whispering down, the wide up-slanting sea

Of fanning leaves in the descending rays

Danced interdazzingly, as if the trees

That bore them, were all thrilling, - tingling all

Even to the roots for very happiness:

So prompted from within, so sentient, seemed

The bright quick motion - wildly beautiful.


   But when the sun had wholly disappeared

Behind those mountains - O what words, what hues

Might paint the wild magnificence of view

That opened westward!  Out extending, lo,

The heights rose crowding, with their summits all

Dissolving, as it seemed, and partly lost

In the exceeding radiancy aloft;

And thus transfigured, for awhile they stood

Like a great company of Archaeons, crowned

With burning diadems, and tented o'er

With canopies of purple and of gold!


   Here halting wearied, now the sun was set,

Our travellers kindled for their first night's camp

The brisk and crackling fire, which also looked

A wilder creature than 'twas elsewhere wont,

Because of the surrounding savageness.

And soon in cannikins the tea was made,

Fragrant and stong; long fresh-sliced rashers then

Impaled on whittled skewers, were deftly broiled

On the live embers, and when done, transferred

To quadrants from an ample damper cut,

Their only trenchers - soon to be dispatched

With all the savoury morsels they sustained,

By the keen tooth of healthful appitite.


   And as they supped, birds of new shape and plume

And wild strange voice, nestward repairing by,

Oft took their wonder; or betwixt the gaps

In the ascending forest growths they saw

Perched on the bare abutments of the hills,

Where haply yet some lingering gleam fell through,

The wallaroo look forth: till eastward all

The view had wasted into formless gloom,

Night's front; and westward, the high massing woods

Steeped in a swart but mellowed Indian hue -

A deep dusk loveliness,-lay ridged and heaped

Only the more distinctly for their shade

Against the twilight heaven - a cloudless depth

Yet luminous with the sunset's fading glow;

And thus awhile, in the lit dusk, they seemed

To hang like mighty pictures of themselves,

In the still chambers of some vaster world.


   The silent business of their supper done,

The Echoes of the solitary place,

Came as in sylvan wonder wide about

To hear, and imitate tentatively,

Stange voice moulding a strange speech, as then

Within the pleasant purlieus of the fire

Lifted in glee - but to be hushed erelong,

As with the night in kindred darkness came

O'er the adventurers, each and all, some sense -

Some vague-felt intimation from without,

Of danger, lurking in its forest lairs.


   But nerved by habit, and all settled soon

About the well-built fire, whose nimble tongues

Sent up continually a strenuous roar

Of fierce delight, and from their fuming pipes

Full charged and fragrant with the Indian weed,

Drawing rude comfort,- typed without, as 'twere,

By tiny clouds over their several heads

Quietly curling upward; - thus disposed

Within the pleasant firelight, grave discourse

of their peculiar business brought to each

A steadier mood, that reached into the night.


   The simple subject to their minds at length

Fully discussed, their couches they prepared

Of rushes, and the long green tresses pulled

Down from the boughs of the wild willows near.

The four, as prearranged, stretched out their limbs

Under the dark arms of the forest trees

That mixed aloft, high in the starry air,

In arcs and leafy domes whose crossing curves

And roof-like features, - blurring as they ran

Into some denser intergrowth of sprays, -

Were seen in mass traced out against the clear

Wide gaze of heaven; and trustful of the watch

Kept near them by their thoughtful Master, soon

Drowsing away, forgetful of their toil,

And of the perilous vast wilderness

That lay around them like a spectral world,

Slept, breathing deep; - whilst all things there as well

Showed slumbrous, - yea, the circling forest trees,

Their foremost boles carved from a crowded mass

Less visible, by the watchfire's bladed gleams,

As quick and spicular, from the broad red ring

Of its more constant light they ran in spurts

Far out and under the umbrageous dark;

And even the shaded and enormous mounts,

Their bluff brows grooming through the stirless air,

Looked in their quiet solemnly asleep:

Yea, thence surveyed, the Universe might have seemed

Coiled in vast rest, - only that one dim cloud,

Diffused and shapen like a huge spider,

Crept as with scrawling legs along the sky;

And that the stars, in their bright orders, still

Cluster by cluster glowingly revealed

As this slow cloud moved on, - high over all, -

Looked wakeful - yea, looked thoughtful in their peace.


II

   Meanwhile the cloudless eastem heaven had grown

More and more luminous - and now the Moon

Up from behind a giant hill was seen

Conglobing, till - a mighty mass - she brought

Her under border level with its cone,

As thereon it were resting: when, behold

A wonder!  Instantly that cone's whole bulk

Erewhile so dark, seemed inwardly a-glow

With her instilled irradiance; while the trees

That fringed its outline, - their huge statures dwarfed

By distance into brambles, and yet all

Clearly defined against her ample orb, -

Out of its very disc appeared to swell

In shadowy relief, as they had been

All sculptured from its substance as she rose.


   Thus o'er that dark height her great orb arose,

Till her full light, in silvery sequence still

Cascading forth from ridgy slope to slope,

Like the dropt foldings of a lucent veil,

Chased mass by mass the broken darkness down

Into the dense-brushed valleys, where it crouched,

And shrank, and struggled, like a dragon doubt

Glooming some lonely spirit that doth still

Resist the Truth with obstinate shifts and shows,

Though shining out of heaven, and from defect

Winning a triumph that might else not be.


   There standing in his lone watch, Egremont

On all this solemn beauty of the world,

Looked out, yet wakeful; for sweet thoughts of home

And all the sacred charities it held,

Ingathered to his heart, as by some nice

And subtle interfusion that connects

The loved and cherished (then the most, perhaps,

When absent, or when passed, or even when lost)

With all serene and beautiful and bright

And lasting things of Nature.  So then thought

The musing Egremont: when sudden - hark!

A bough crackt loudly in a neighboring brake,

And drew at once, as with a 'larum, all

His spirits thitherward in wild surmise.


   But summoning caution, and back stepping close

Against the shade-side of a bending gum,

With a strange horror gathering to his heart,

As if his blood were charged with insect life

And writhed along in clots, he stilled himself,

Listening long and heedfully, with head

Bent forward sideways, till his held breath grew

A pang, and his ears rung.  But Silence there

Had recomposed her ruffled wings, and now

Brooded it seemed even stillier than before,

Deep nested in the darkness: so that he

Unmasking from the cold shade, grew erelong

More reassured from wishing to be so,

And to muse, Memory's suspended mood,

Though with an effort, quietly recurred.


   But there again - crack upon crack!  And hark!

O Heaven! have Hell's worst fiends burst howling up

Into the death-doom'd world?  Or whence, if not

From diabolic rage, could surge a yell

So horrible as that which now affrights

The shuddering dark!  Beings as fell are near!

Yea, Beings, in their dread inherited hate

And deadly enmity, as vengeful, come

In vengeance!  For behold, from the long grass

And nearer brakes, a semi-belt of stript

And painted Savages divulge at once

Their bounding forms! - full in the flaring light

Thrown outward by the fire, that roused and lapped

The rounding darkness with its ruddy tongues

More fiercely than before, - as though even it

Had felt the sudden shock the air received

From those dire cries, so terrible to hear!


   A moment in wild agitation seen

Thus, as they bounded up, on then they came

Closing, with weapons brandished high, and so

Rushed in upon the sleepers! three of whom

But started, and then weltered prone beneath

The first fell blow dealt down on each by three

Of the most stalwart of their pitiless foes!

But One again, and yet again, heaved up -

Up to his knees, under the crushing strokes

Of huge-clubbed nulla-nullas, till his own

Warm blood was blinding him!  For he was one

Who had with Misery nearly all his days

Lived lonely, and who therefore, in his soul

Did hunger after hope, and thirst for what

Hope still had promised him, - some taste at least

Of human good however long deferred,

And now he could not, even in dying, loose

His hold on life's poor chances of tomorrow -

Could not but so dispute the terrible fact

Of death, e'en in Death's presence! Strange it is:

Yet oft 'tis seen that Fortune's pampered child

Consents to his untimely power with less

Reluctance, less despair, than does the wretch

Who hath been ever blown about the world

The straw-like sport of Fate's most bitter blasts,

Vagrant and tieless; - ever still in him

The craving spirit thus grieves to itself:


   'I never yet was happy - never yet

Tasted unmixed enjoyment, and I would

Yet pass on the bright Earth that I have loved

Some season, though most brief, of happiness;

So should I walk thenceforward to my grave,

Wherever in her green maternal breast

It might await me, more than now prepared

To house me in its gloom, - resigned at heart,

Subjected to its certainty and soothed

Even by the consciousness of having shaped

Some personal good in being; - strong myself,

And strengthening others.  But to have lived long years

Of wasted breath, because of woe and want,

And disappointed hope, - and now, at last,

To die thus desolate, is horrible!'


   And feeling thus through many foregone moods

Whose lives had in the temper of his soul

All mixed, and formed one habit, - that poor man,

Though the black shadows of untimely death,

Inevitably, under every stroke,

But thickened more and more, - against them still

Upstruggled, nor would cease: until one last

Tremendous blow, dealt down upon his head

As if in mercy, gave him to the dust

With all his many woes and frustrate hope.


   Struck through with a cold horror, Egremont,

Standing apart, - yea, standing as it were

In marble effigy, saw this, saw all!

And when outthawing from his frozen heart

His blood again rushed tingling - with a leap

Awaking from the ghastly trance which there

Had bound him, as with chill petrific bonds,

He raised from instinct more than conscious thought

His death-charged tube, and at that murderous crew

Firing! saw one fall ox-like to the earth; -

Then turned and fled.  Fast fled he, but as fast

His deadly foes went thronging on his track!

Fast! for in full pursuit, behind him yelled

Wild men whose wild speech had no word for mercy!

And as he fled, the forest beasts as well,

In general terror, through the brakes a-head

Crashed scattering, or with maddening speed athwart

His course came frequent.  On - still on he flies -

Flies for dear life! and still behind him hears

Nearer and nearer, the so rapid dig

Of many feet, - nearer and nearer still.



III


   So went the chase!  And now what should he do?

Abruptly turning, the wild Creek lay right

Before him!  But no time was there for thought:

So on he kept, and from a bulging rock

That beaked the bank like a bare promontory,

Plunging right forth and shooting feet-first down,

Sunk to his middle in the flashing stream -

In which the imaged stars seemed all at once

To burst like rockets into one wide blaze

Of intewrithing light.  Then wading through

The ruffled waters, forth he sprang and seized

A snake-like root that from the opponent bank

Protruded, and round which his earnest fear

Did clench his cold hand like a clamp of steel,

A moment, - till as swiftly thence he swung

His dripping form aloft, and up the dark

O'erjutting ledge, went clambering in the blind

And breathless haste of one who flies for life:

When its face - 0 verily our God

Hath those in his peculiar care for whom

The daily prayers of spotless Womanhood

And helpless Infancy, are offered up! -

When in its face a cavity he felt,

The upper earth of which in one rude mass

Was held fast bound by the enwoven roots

Of two old trees, - and which, beneath the mould,

Just o'er the clammy vacancy below,

Twisted and lapped like knotted snakes, and made

A natural loft-work.  Under this he crept,

Just as the dark forms of his hunters thronged

The bulging rock whence he before had plunged.


   Duskily visible, thereon a space

They paused to mark what bent his course might take

Over the farther bank, thereby intent

To hold upon the chase, which way soe'er

It might incline, more surely. But no form

Amongst the moveless fringe of fern was seen

To shoot up from its outline, - up and forth

Into the moonlight that lay bright beyond

In torn and shapless blocks, amid the boles

And mxing shadows of the taller trees,

All standing now in the keen radiance there

So ghostly still, as in a solemn trance,

But nothing in the silent prospect stirred -

No fugitive apparition in the view

Rose, as they stared in fierce expectancy:

Wherefore they augured that their prey was yet

Somewhere between, - and the whole group with that

Plunged forward, till the fretted current boiled

Amongst their crowd'ing trunks from bank to bank;

And searching thus the stream across, and then

Lengthwise, along the ledges, - combing down

Still, as they went, with dripping fingers, cold

And cruel as inquisitive, each clump

Of long-flagged swamp-grass where it flourished high, -

The whole dark line passed slowly, man by man,

Athwart the cavity - so fearfully near,

That as they waded by the Fugitive

Felt the strong odour of their wetted skins

Pass with them, trailing as their bodies moved

Stealthily on, coming with each, and going.


   But their keen search was keen in vain.  And now

Those wild men marvelled, - till, in consultation,

There grouped in dark knots standing in the stream

That glimmered past them, moaning as it went,

His Banishment, so passing strange it seemed,

They coupled with the mystery of some crude

Old fable of their race; and fear-struck all,

And silent, then withdrew.  And when the sound

Of their receding steps had from his ear

Died off, as back to the stormed Camp again

They hurried to despoil the yet warm dead,

Our Friend slid forth, and springing up the bank.

Renewed his flight, nor rested from it, till

He gained the welcoming shelter of his Home.


Return we for a moment to the scene

Of recent death.  There the late flaring fire

Now smouldered, for its brands were strewn about,

And four stark corses plundered to the skin

And brutally mutilated, seemed to stare

With frozen eyeballs up into the pale

Round visage of the Moon, who, high in heaven,

With all her stars, in golden bevies, gazed

As peacefully down as on a bridal there

Of the warm Living - not, alas! on them

Who kept in ghastly silence through the night

Untimely spousals with a desert death.


0 God! and thus this lovely world hath been

Accursed forever by the bloody deeds

Of its prime Creature - Man.  Erring or wise,

Savage or civilised, still hath he made

This glorious residence, the Earth, a Hell

Of wrong and robbery and untimely death!

Some dread Intelligence opposed to Good

Did, of a surety, over all the earth

Spread out from Eden - or it were not so!

For see the bright beholding Moon, and all

The radiant Host of Heaven, evince no touch

Of sympathy with Man's wild violence; -

Only evince in their calm course, their part

In that original unity of Love,

Which, like the soul that dwelleth in a harp,

Under God's hand, in the beginning, chimed

The sabbath concord of the Universe;

And look on a gay clique of maidens, met

In village tryst, and interwhirling all

In glad Arcadian dances on the green -

Or on a hermit, in his vigils long,

Seen kneeling at the doorway, of his cell -

Or on a monster battlefield where lie

In sweltering heaps, the dead and dying both,

On the cold gory grounds - as they that night

Looked in bright peace, down on the doomful Wild.


Afterwards there, for many changeful years,

Within a glade that sloped into the bank

Of that wild mountain Creek - midway within,

In partial record of a terrible hour

Of human agony and loss extreme,

Four grassy mounds stretched lengthwise side by side,

Startled the wanderer; - four long grassy mounds

Bestrewn with leaves, and withered spraylets, stript

By the loud wintry wing gales that roamed

Those solitudes, from the old trees which there

Moaned the same leafy dirges that had caught

The heed of dying Ages: these were all;

And thence the place was long by travellers called

The Creek of the Four Graves.  Such was the Tale

Egremont told us of the wild old times.

--1853

© John Eustace 2013