PROPHET. My spells do work apace! Shout yourselves hoarse, Ye howling ministers by whom I climb! For this I've wrought until my weary tongue, Blistered 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 Tecumseh! 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-- Trepanned 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 Tecumseh'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 nobler 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 forestalled 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 Tecumseh 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 ruined 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.