The Ontario Readers: The High School Reader, 1886 Part 53

CIV. SCENES FROM "TEc.u.mSEH."[Q]

CHARLES MAIR.--1840-

SCENE.--TEc.u.mSEH'S _Cabin_.

_Enter_ IENA.

_Iena._ 'Tis night, and Mamatee is absent still!

Why should this sorrow weigh upon my heart, And other lonely things on earth have rest?

Oh, could I be with them! The lily shone All day upon the stream, and now it sleeps Under the wave in peace--in cradle soft Which sorrow soon may fashion for my grave.

Ye shadows which do creep into my thoughts-- Ye curtains of despair! what is my fault, That ye should hide the happy earth from me?

Once I had joy of it, when tender Spring, Mother of beauty, hid me in her leaves; When Summer led me by the sh.o.r.es of song, And forests and far-sounding cataracts Melted my soul with music. I have heard The rough chill harpings of dismantled woods, When Fall had stripp'd them, and have felt a joy Deeper than ear could lend unto the heart; And when the Winter from his mountains wild Look'd down on death, and, in the frosty sky, The very stars seem'd hung with icicles, Then came a sense of beauty calm and cold, That wean'd me from myself, yet knit me still With kindred bonds to Nature. All is past, And he--who won from me such love for him, And he--my valiant uncle and my friend, Comes not to lift the cloud that drapes my soul, And shield me from the fiendish Prophet's power.

_Enter_ MAMATEE.

Give me his answer in his very words!

_Mamatee._ There is a black storm raging in his mind-- His eye darts lightning like the angry cloud Which hangs in woven darkness o'er the earth.

Brief is his answer--you must go to him.

The Long-Knife's camp-fires gleam among the oaks Which dot yon western hill. A thousand men Are sleeping there cajoled to fatal dreams By promises the Prophet breaks to-night.

Hark! 'tis the war-song.

_Iena._ Dares the Prophet now Betray Tec.u.mseh's trust, and break his faith?

_Mamatee._ He dares do anything will feed ambition.

His dancing braves are frenzied by his tongue, Which prophesies revenge and victory.

Before the break of day he will surprise The Long-Knife's camp, and hang our people's fate Upon a single onset.

_Iena._ Should he fail?

_Mamatee._ Then all will fail;--Tec.u.mseh's scheme will fail.[R]

_Iena._ It shall not! Let us go to him at once!

_Mamatee._ And risk your life?

_Iena._ Risk hovers everywhere When night and man combine for darksome deeds.

I'll go to him, and argue on my knees-- Yea, yield my hand--would I could give my heart To stay his purpose and this act of ruin.

_Mamatee._ He is not in the mood for argument.

Rash girl! they die who would oppose him now.

_Iena._ Such death were sweet as life--I go! But, first-- Great Spirit! I commit my soul to Thee. [_Kneels._

SCENE.--_An open s.p.a.ce in the forest near the Prophet's Town. A fire of billets burning. War-cries are heard from the town._

_Enter the_ PROPHET.

_Prophet._ My spells do work apace! Shout yourselves hoa.r.s.e, Ye howling ministers by whom I climb!

For this I've wrought until my weary tongue, Blister'd with incantation, flags in speech, And half declines its office. Every brave Inflamed by charms and oracles, is now A vengeful serpent, who will glide ere morn To sting the Long-Knife's sleeping camp to death.

Why should I hesitate? My promises!

My duty to Tec.u.mseh! What are these Compared with duty here? Where I perceive A near advantage, there my duty lies; Consideration strong which overweighs All other reason. Here is Harrison-- Trepann'd to dangerous lodgment for the night-- Each deep ravine which grooves the prairie's breast A channel of approach; each winding creek A screen for creeping death. Revenge is sick To think of such advantage flung aside.

For what? To let Tec.u.mseh's greatness grow, Who gathers his rich harvest of renown Out of the very fields that I have sown!

By Manitou, I will endure no more!

Nor, in the rising flood of our affairs, Fish like an osprey for this eagle longer.

But, soft!

It is the midnight hour when comes Tarhay to claim his bride. [_Calls._] Tarhay! Tarhay!

_Enter_ TARHAY _with several braves._

_Tarhay._ Tarhay is here!

_Prophet._ The Long-Knives die to-night.

The spirits which do minister to me Have breathed this utterance within my ear.

You know my sacred office cuts me off From the immediate leadership in fight.

My n.o.bler work is in the spirit-world, And thence come promises which make us strong.

Near to the foe I'll keep the Magic Bowl, Whilst you, Tarhay, shall lead our warriors on.

_Tarhay._ I'll lead them; they are wild with eagerness.

But fill my cold and empty cabin first With light and heat! You know I love your niece, And have the promise of her hand to-night.

_Prophet._ She shall be yours!

[_To the braves._] Go bring her here at once-- But, look! Fulfilment of my promise comes In her own person.

_Enter_ IENA _and_ MAMATEE.

Welcome, my sweet niece!

You have forstall'd my message by these braves, And come unbidden to your wedding-place.

_Iena._ Uncle! you know my heart is far away--

_Prophet._ But still your hand is here! this little hand!

[_Pulling her forward._

_Iena._ Dare you enforce a weak and helpless girl, Who thought to move you by her misery?

Stand back! I have a message for you too.

What means the war-like song, the dance of braves, And bustle in our town?

_Prophet._ It means that we Attack the foe to-night.

_Iena._ And risk our all?

O that Tec.u.mseh knew! his soul would rush In arms to intercept you. What! break faith, And on the hazard of a doubtful strife, Stake his great enterprise and all our lives!

The dying curses of a ruin'd race Will wither up your wicked heart for this!

_Prophet._ False girl! your heart is with our foes; Your hand I mean to turn to better use.