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Epilogue

Such was the tale; and witness of its truth
Came, ere the winter, Heseltine himself;
A fresh, full-bearded, brawny shouldered man,
Browned by the sun, and radiant with the strength
Of travel and pure breezes;- a glad face
Where guile or falsehood could not find a pore
To hide or harbour in; so clear it shone
In candour and simplicity of mind.

The friends long parted met like day and night,
And there was sunrise in the hearts of both,
And they were friends again, their friendship tried,
Like iron in the furnace, turned to steel.
“How of the gold?” said Heseltine one night,
When round the fire the little household met,
And the wind whistled through the outer door
And boomed and thundered down the chimney gorge.
“If there it lies,” said Aubrey, with a smile,
“There let it lie for me! I yield my right
Of first discovery. If Columbus I,
Amerigo Vespuccio thou shalt be,
And take the glory and the recompence.”

“The nugget lies untouched,” said Heseltine.
After you sailed, I heard that you had gone.
And not to leave the gold for alien eyes,
I visited the scene of our mishap,
And there beheld the treasure covered up.
I knew your hand, and put the final touch
To the great work. Aye, you may laugh or doubt.
But thus I did. I covered up the soil
Above the treasure; shaped it like a mound
Over a village grave. Forgive the deed;
In clerical presence it appears profane.
And so I deem it now, and do not boast.
But tell the truth, although against myself.
And at the end I placed a little cross
Of rudest workmanship, on which I graved
Deep with my bowie knife this epitaph:

‘Here lies a sinner–trouble not his bones'”.

The parson shook his head, but yet he smiled.
“If there be body-snatchers in the south,
They’ll find a prize,” said Aubrey. “Let them find!
Their monstrous nugget shall not vex my soul.”

“‘Twill not be troubled,” answered Heseltine,
“Till I return to dig it into light.
I’ve made my pact. I’ve chosen all my men,
You not gainsaying, stout of heart and hand;
And we shall sail to Melbourne as we may,
And draw the treasure from the earth’s good Bank
Into the daylight, which it shall adorn;
Half shall be yours, and with the other half
I’11 pay my diggers, and all cost beside,
And have sufficient to be more than rich.

“A welcome and a bed in Aubrey Place,
And a week’s shooting o’er your forest lands
Once in a year is all that I shall ask
To pay me back with usury all you owe.
If you hate money much as once you loved,
Learn wisdom from a simple-minded man.
Why should we love or hate it, and not serve
Great needs with it? If sailors love the wind,
And cooks the fire, and millers the full stream,
Not for the sake of wind, or fire, or flood,
But for great purpose, useful to mankind,
So should the wise love Gold;–but not too well.
Such my philosophy–and why not yours?”