HARRISON. (_Rising_.) I asked Tecumseh to confer with me, Not in war's hue, but for the ends of peace. Our own intent--witness our presence here, Unarmed save those few muskets and our swords. How comes it, then, that he descends on us With this o'erbearing and untimely strength? Tecumseh's virtues are the theme of all; Wisdom and courage, frankness and good faith-- To speak of these things is to think of him! Yet, as one theft makes men suspect the thief-- Be all his life else spent in honesty-- So does one breach of faithfulness in man Wound all his after deeds. There is a pause In some men's goodness like the barren time Of those sweet trees which yield each second year, Wherein what seems a niggardness in nature; Is but good husbandry for future gifts. But this tree bears, and bears most treacherous fruit! Here is a gross infringement of all laws That shelter men in council, where should sit No disproportioned force save that of reason-- Our strong dependence still, and argument, Of better consequence than that of arms, If great Tecumseh should give ear to it. TECUMSEH. (_Rising_.) You called upon Tecumseh and he came! You sent your messenger, asked us to bring Our wide complaint to you--and it is here! [_Waving his arm toward his followers_.] Why is our brother angry at our force, Since every man but represents a wrong? Nay! rather should our force be multiplied! Fill up your streets and overflow your fields, And crowd upon the earth for standing room; Still would our wrongs outweigh our witnesses, And scant recital for the lack of tongues. I know your reason, and its bitter heart, Its form of justice, clad with promises-- The cloaks of death! That reason was the snare Which tripped our ancestors in days of yore-- Who knew not falsehood and so feared it not: Men who mistook your fathers' vows for truth, And took them, cold and hungry, to their hearts. Filled them with food, and shared with them their homes, With such return as might make baseness blush. What tree e'er bore such treacherous fruit as this? But let it pass! let wrongs die with the wronged! The red man's memory is full of graves. But wrongs live with the living, who are here-- Inheritors of all our fathers' sighs, And tears, and garments wringing wet with blood. The injuries which you have done to us Cry out for remedy, or wide revenge. Restore the forests you have robbed us of-- Our stolen homes and vales of plenteous com! Give back the boundaries, which are our lives, Ere the axe rise! aught else is reasonless.