The Ontario Readers: The High School Reader, 1886 Part 54

_Iena._ Oh, could it turn you from your mad intent How freely would I give it! Drop this scheme, Dismiss your frenzied warriors to their beds; And, if contented with my hand, Tarhay Can have it here.

_Tarhay._ I love you, Iena!

_Iena._ Then must you love what I do! Love our race!

'Tis this love nerves Tec.u.mseh to unite Its scatter'd tribes--his fruit of n.o.ble toil, Which you would s.n.a.t.c.h unripen'd from his hand, And feed to sour ambition. Touch it not-- Oh, touch it not, Tarhay! and though my heart Breaks for it, I am yours.

_Prophet._ His anyway, Or I am not the Prophet!

_Tarhay._ For my part I have no leaning to this rash attempt, Since Iena consents to be my wife.

_Prophet._ Shall I be thwarted by a yearning fool! [_Aside._ This soft, sleek girl, to outward seeming good, I know to be a very fiend beneath-- Whose sly affections centre on herself, And feed the gliding snake within her heart.

_Tarhay._ I cannot think her so--

_Mamatee._ She is not so!

There is the snake that creeps among our race; Whose venom'd fangs would bile into our lives, And poison all our hopes.

_Prophet._ She is the head-- The very neck of danger to me here, Which I must break at once! [_Aside._] Tarhay--attend!

I can see dreadful visions in the air; I can dream awful dreams of life and fate; I can bring darkness on the heavy earth; I can fetch shadows from our fathers' graves, And spectres from the sepulchres of h.e.l.l.

Who dares dispute with me, disputes with death!

Dost hear, Tarhay?

[TARHAY _and braves cower before the_ PROPHET.

_Tarhay._ I hear, and will obey.

Spare me! Spare me!

_Prophet._ As for this foolish girl, The hand she offers you on one condition, I give to you upon a better one; And, since she has no mind to give her heart-- Which, rest a.s.sured, is in her body still-- There,--take it at my hands!

[_Flings_ IENA _violently towards_ TARHAY, _into whose arms she falls fainting, and is then borne away by_ MAMATEE.

[_To_ TARHAY.] Go bring the braves to view the Mystic Torch And belt of Sacred Beans grown from my flesh-- One touch of it makes them invulnerable-- Then creep, like stealthy panthers, on the foe!

SCENE.--_Morning. The field of Tippecanoe after the battle. The ground strewn with dead soldiers and warriors._

_Enter_ HARRISON, _officers and soldiers, and_ BARRON.

_Harrison._ A costly triumph reckon'd by our slain!

Look how some lie still clench'd with savages In all-embracing death, their b.l.o.o.d.y hands Glued in each other's hair! Make burial straight Of all alike in deep and common graves: Their quarrel now is ended.

_1st Officer._ I have heard The red man fears our steel--'twas not so here; From the first shots, which drove our pickets in, Till daylight dawn'd, they rush'd upon our lines, And flung themselves upon our bayonet points In frenzied recklessness of bravery.

_Barron._ They trusted in the Prophet's rites and spells, Which promis'd them immunity from death.

All night he sat on yon safe eminence, Howling his songs of war and mystery, Then fled, at dawn, in fear of his own braves.

_Enter an_ AIDE.

_Harrison._ What tidings bring you from the Prophet's Town?

_Aide._ The wretched women with their children fly To distant forests for concealment. In Their village is no living thing save mice Which scamper'd as we oped each cabin door.

Their pots still simmer'd on the vacant hearths, Standing in dusty silence and desertion.

Naught else we saw, save that their granaries Were cramm'd with needful corn.

_Harrison._ Go bring it all-- Then burn their village down! [_Exit_ AIDE.

_2nd Officer._ This victory Will shake Tec.u.mseh's project to the base.

Were I the Prophet I should drown myself Rather than meet him.

_Barron._ We have news of him-- Our scouts report him near in heavy force.

_Harrison._ 'Twill melt, or draw across the British line, And wait for war. But double the night watch, Lest he should strike, and give an instant care To all our wounded men: to-morrow's sun Must light us on our backward march for home.

Thence Rumor's tongue will spread so proud a story New England will grow envious of our glory; And, greedy for renown so long abhorr'd, Will on old England draw the tardy sword!

SCENE.--_The Ruins of the Prophet's Town._

_Enter the_ PROPHET, _who gloomily surveys the place._

_Prophet._ Our people scatter'd, and our town in ashes!

To think these hands could work such madness here-- This envious head devise this misery!

Tec.u.mseh, had not my ambition drawn Such sharp and fell destruction on our race You might have smiled at me! for I have match'd My cunning 'gainst your wisdom, and have dragg'd Myself and all into a sea of ruin.

_Enter_ TEc.u.mSEH.

_Tec.u.mseh._ Devil! I have discover'd you at last!

You sum of treacheries, whose wolfish fangs Have torn our people's flesh--you shall not live!

[_The_ PROPHET _retreats facing and followed by_ TEc.u.mSEH.

_Prophet._ Nay--strike me not! I can explain it all!

It was a woman touch'd the Magic Bowl, And broke the brooding spell.

_Tec.u.mseh._ Impostor! Slave!

Why should I spare you? [_Lifts his hand as if to strike._

_Prophet._ Stay, stay, touch me not!

One mother bore us in the self-same hour.

_Tec.u.mseh._ Then good and evil came to light together.

Go to the corn-dance, change your name to villain!

Away! Your presence tempts my soul to mischief.

[_Exit the_ PROPHET _hastily._ Would that I were a woman, and could weep, And slake hot rage with tears! O spiteful fortune, To lure me to the limit of my dreams, Then turn and crowd the ruin of my toil Into the narrow compa.s.s of a night!

My brother's deep disgrace--myself the scorn Of envious harriers and thieves of fame, Who fain would rob me of the lawful meed Of faithful services and duties done-- Oh, I could bear it all! But to behold Our ruin'd people hunted to their graves-- To see the Long-Knife triumph in their shame-- This is the burning shaft, the poison'd wound That rankles in my soul! But, why despair?

All is not lost--the English are our friends.

My spirit rises--manhood bear me up!

I'll haste to Malden, join my force to theirs, And fall with double fury on our foes.

Farewell ye plains and forests, but rejoice!

Ye yet shall echo to Tec.u.mseh's voice.