[Enter the PROPHET, who gloomily surveys the place.]

PROPHET. Our people scattered, and our town in ashes!
To think these hands could work such madness here—
This envious head devise this misery!
Tecumseh, had not my ambition drawn
Such sharp and fell destruction on our race
You might have smiled at me! for I have matched
My cunning 'gainst your wisdom, and have dragged
Myself and all into a sea of ruin.

[Enter TECUMSEH.]

TECUMSEH. Devil! I have discovered 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 TECUMSEH.]

PROPHET. Nay—strike me not! I can explain it all!
It was a woman touched the Magic Bowl,
And broke the brooding spell.

TECUMSEH. 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.

TECUMSEH. 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 compass 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 ruined people hunted to their graves—
To see the Long-Knife triumph in their shame—
This is the burning shaft, the poisoned 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 Tecumseh's voice.

[Enter LEFROY.]

LEFROY. What tidings have you gleaned of Iena?

TECUMSEH. My brother meant to wed her to Tarhay—
The chief who led his warriors to ruin;
But, in the gloom and tumult of the night,
She fled into the forest all alone.

LEFROY. Alone! In the wide forest all alone!
Angels are with her now, for she is dead.

TECUMSEH. You know her to be skilful with the bow.
'Tis certain she would strike for some great Lake—
Erie or Michigan. At the Detroit
Are people of our nation, and perchance
She fled for shelter there. I go at once
To join the British force.

[Exit TECUMSEH.]

LEFROY. But yesterday I climbed to Heaven upon the
shining stairs
Of love and hope, and here am quite cast down.
My little flower amidst a weedy world,
Where art thou now? In deepest forest shade?
Or onward, where the sumach stands arrayed
In Autumn splendour, its alluring form
Fruited, yet odious with the hidden worm?
Or, farther, by some still sequestered lake,
Loon-haunted, where the sinewy panthers slake
Their noon-day thirst, and never voice is heard
Joyous of singing waters, breeze or bird,
Save their wild waitings.—(A halloo without)
'Tis Tecumseh calls! Oh Iena! If dead, where'er thou
art—
Thy saddest grave will be this ruined heart!
[Exit.]

END OF THIRD ACT.