ROBINSON. No fear of that!

BROCK. I trust there is not; yet I speak of it As what is to be feared more than the odds. For like to forests are communities— Fair at a distance, entering you find The rubbish and the underbrush of states, 'Tis ever the mean soul that counts the odds, And, where you find this spirit, pluck it up— 'Tis full of mischief.

MACDONELL. It is almost dead. England's vast war, our weakness, and the eagle Whetting his beak at Sandwich, with one claw Already in our side, put thought to steep In cold conjecture for a time, and gave A text to alien tongues. But, since you came, Depression turns to smiling, and men see That dangers well-opposed may be subdued Which shunned would overwhelm us.

BROCK. Hold to this! For since the storm has struck us we must face it. What is our present count of volunteers?

NICHOL. More than you called for have assembled, Sir— The flower of York and Lincoln.

BROCK. Some will go To guard our frontier at Niagara. Which must be strengthened even at the cost Of York itself. The rest to the Detroit, Where, with Tecumseh's force, our regulars, And Kent and Essex loyal volunteers, We'll give this Hull a taste of steel so cold His teeth will chatter at it, and his scheme Of easy conquest vanish into air.

[Enter a COMPANY of MILITIA with their OFFICERS, unarmed. They salute, march across the stage, and make their exit.]

What men are those? Their faces are familiar.

ROBINSON. Some farmers whom you furloughed at Fort George, To tend their fields, which still they leave half- reaped To meet invasion.

BROCK. I remember it! The jarring needs of harvest-time and war, Twixt whose necessities grave hazards lay.

ROBINSON. They only thought to save their children's bread, And then return to battle with light hearts. For, though their hard necessities o'erpoised Their duty for the moment, these are men. Who draw their pith from loyal roots, their sires, Dug up by revolution, and cast out To hovel in the bitter wilderness, And wring, with many a tussle, from the wolf Those very fields which cry for harvesters.

BROCK. O I observed them closely at Fort George— Red-hot for action in their summer-sleeves, And others drilling in their naked feet— Our poor equipment (which disgraced us there) Too scanty to go round. See they get arms, An ample outfit and good quarters too.

NICHOL. They shall be well provided for in all.

[Enter COLONELS BABY [Footnote: Pronounced Baw- bee.] and ELLIOTT.]

BROCK. Good morning both; what news from home, Baby?

BABY. None, none your Excellency—whereat we fear This Hull is in our rear at Amherstburg.

BROCK. Not yet; what I unsealed last night reports Tecumseh to have foiled the enemy In two encounters at the Canard bridge. A noble fellow; as I hear, humane, Lofty and bold and rooted in our cause.

BABY. I know him well; a chief of matchless force. If Mackinaw should fall—that triple key To inland seas and teeming wilderness— The bravest in the west will flock to him.

BROCK. 'Twere well he had an inkling of affairs. My letters say he chafes at my delay, Not mine, but thine, thou dull and fatuous House— Which, in a period that whips delay, When men should spur themselves and flash in action, Let'st idly leak the unpurchasable hours From our scant measure of most precious time!

BABY. 'Tis true, Your Exc'llency, some cankered minds Have been a daily hind'rance in our House. No measure so essential, bill so fair, But they would foul it by some cunning clause, Wrenching the needed statute from its aim By sly injection of their false opinion. But this you cannot charge to us whose hearts Are faithful to our trust; nor yet delay; For, Exc'llency, you hurry on so fast That other men wheeze after, out of breath, And haste itself, disparaged, lags behind.

BROCK. Friends, pardon me, you stand not in reproof. But haste, the evil of the age in peace, Is war's auxiliary, confederate With time himself in urgent great affairs. So must we match it with the flying hours! I shall prorogue this tardy Parliament, And promptly head our forces for Detroit Meanwhile, I wish you, in advance of us, To speed unto your homes. Spread everywhere Throughout the West, broad tidings of our coming, Which, by the counter currents of reaction, Will tell against our foes and for our friends. As for the rest, such loyal men as you Need not our counsel; so, good journey both!

BABY. We shall not spare our transport or ourselves.

[Enter a travel-stained MESSENGER.]

ELLIOTT. Good-bye.

BABY. Tarry a moment, Elliott! Here comes a messenger— let's have his news.

MESSENGER. It is his Excellency whom I seek. I come, sir, with despatches from the west.

BROCK. Tidings I trust to strengthen all our hopes.

MESSENGER. News of grave interest, this not the worst.

[Handing a letter to GENERAL BROCK.]

BROCK. No, by my soul, for Mackinaw is ours! That vaunted fort, whose gallant capture frees Our red allies. This is important news! What of Detroit!

MESSENGER. Things vary little there. Hull's soldiers scour our helpless settlements, Our aliens join them, but the loyal mass— Sullen, yet overawed, longs for relief.

BROCK. I hope to better this anon. You, sirs,

[To his aides.]

Come with me; here is matter to despatch At once to Montreal. Farewell, my friends.

[To Baby and Elliott.]

BABY. We feel now what will follow this, farewell!

[Exeunt BABY, ELLIOTT and MESSENGER.]

BROCK. Now, gentlemen, prepare against our needs, That no neglect may check us at the start, Or mar our swift advance. And, for our cause, As we believe it just in sight of God, So should it triumph in the sight of man, Whose generous temper, at the first, assigns Right to the weaker side, yet coldly draws Damning conclusions from its failure. Now Betake you to your tasks with double zeal; And, meanwhile, let our joyful tidings spread!

[Exeunt.]



SCENE THIRD.—THE SAME.

Enter two OLD MEN of York, severally.

1ST OLD MAN. Good morrow, friend! a fair and fitting time To take our airing, and to say farewell. 'Tis here, I think, we bid our friends God-speed, A waftage, peraventure, to their graves.

2ND OLD MAN. 'Tis a good cause they die for, if they fall By this grey pate, if I were young again, I would no better journey. Young again! This hubbub sets old pulses on the bound As I were in my teens.

Enter a CITIZEN.

What news afoot?

CITIZEN. Why everyone's afoot and coming here. York's citizens are turned to warriors; The learned professions go a-soldiering, And gentle hearts beat high for Canada! For, as you pass, on every hand you see, Through the neglected openings of each house— Through doorways, windows—our Canadian maids Strained by their parting lovers to their breasts; And loyal matrons busy round their lords, Buckling their arms on, or, with tearful eyes, Kissing them to the war!

1ST OLD MAN. The volunteers Will pass this way?

CITIZEN. Yes, to the beach, and there Embark for Burlington, whence they will march To Long Point, taking open boats again, To plough the shallow Erie's treacherous flood. Such leaky craft as farmers market with: Rare bottoms, one sou-wester-driven wave Would heave against Lake Erie's wall of shore, And dash to fragments. 'Tis an awful hazard— A danger which in apprehension lies, Yet palpable unto the spirit's touch, As earth to finger.

1ST OLD MAN. Let us hope a calm May lull this fretful and ill-tempered lake Whilst they ascend.

[Military music is heard.]

CITIZEN. Hark! here our soldiers come.

Enter GENERAL BROCK, with his aides, MACDONELL and GLEGG, NICHOL, and other Officers, followed by the Volunteers in companies. A concourse of citizens.

MACDONELL. Our fellows show the mark of training, sir, And many, well in hand, yet full of fire, Are burning for distinction.

BROCK. This is good: Love of distinction is the fruitful soil From which brave actions spring; and, superposed On love of country, these strike deeper root, And grow to greater greatness. Cry a halt— A word here—then away!

[Flourish. The volunteers halt, form line, and order arms.]

Ye men of Canada! Subjects with me of that Imperial Power Whose liberties are marching round the earth: I need not urge you now to follow me, Though what befalls will try your stubborn faith In the fierce fire and crucible of war. I need not urge you, who have heard the voice Of loyalty, and answered to its call. Who has not read the insults of the foe— The manifesto of his purposed crimes? That foe, whose poison-plant, false-liberty, Runs o'er his body politic and kills Whilst seeming to adorn it, fronts us now! Threats our poor Province to annihilate, And should he find the red men by our side— Poor injured souls, who but defend their own— Calls black Extermination from its hell, To stalk abroad, and stench your land with slaughter. These are our weighty arguments for war, Wherein armed justice will enclasp its sword, And sheath it in its bitter adversary; Wherein we'll turn our bayonet-points to pens, And write in blood:—Here lies the poor invader; Or be ourselves struck down by hailing death; Made stepping-stones for foes to walk upon— The lifeless gangways to our country's ruin. For now we look not with the eye of fear; We reck not if this strange mechanic frame— Stop in an instant in the shock of war. Our death may build into our country's life, And failing this, 'twere better still to die Than live the breathing spoils of infamy. Then forward for our cause and Canada! Forward for Britain's Empire—peerless arch Of Freedom's raising, whose majestic span Is axis to the world! On, on, my friends! The task our country sets must we perform— Wring peace from war, or perish in its storm!

[Excitement and leave-taking. The volunteers break into column and sing:]

O hark to the voice from the lips of the free! O hark to the cry from the lakes to the sea! Arm! arm! the invader is wasting our coasts, And tainting the air of our land with his hosts. Arise! then, arise! let us rally and form, And rush like the torrent, and sweep like the storm, On the foes of our King,—of our country adored, Of the flag that was lost, but in exile restored!

And whose was the flag? and whose was the soil? And whose was the exile, the suffering, the toil? Our Fathers'! who carved in the forest a name, And left us rich heirs of their freedom and fame. Oh, dear to our hearts is that flag, and the land Our Fathers bequeathed—'tis the work of their hand! And the soil they redeemed from the woods with renown The might of their sons will defend for the Crown!

Our hearts they are one, and our hands they are free, From clime unto clime, and from sea unto sea! And chaos will come to the States that annoy, But our Empire united what foe can destroy? Then away! to the front! march! comrades away! In the lists of each hour crowd the work of a day! We will follow our leader to fields far and nigh, And for Canada fight, and for Canada die!

[Exeunt with military music.]



SCENE FOURTH.—FORT DETROIT.—THE AMERICAN CAMP.

Enter GENERAL HULL, COLONEL CASS and other Officers.

CASS. Come, General, we must insist on reasons! Your order to withdraw from Canada Will blow to mutiny, and put to shame That proclamation which I wrote for you, Wherein 'tis proudly said, "We are prepared To look down opposition, our strong force But vanguard of a mightier still to come!" And men have been attracted to our cause Who now will curse us for this breach of faith. Consider, sir, again!

HULL. I am not bound To tack my reasons to my orders; this Is my full warrant and authority—

[Pointing to his Instructions.]

Yet, I have ample grounds for what I do.

CASS. What are they, then?

HULL. First, that this proclamation Meets not with due response, wins to our side The thief and refugee, not honest men. These plainly rally round their government.

1ST OFFICER. Why, yes; there's something lacking in this people, If we must conquer them to set them free.

HULL. Ay, and our huge force must be larger still, If we would change these Provinces to States. Then, Colonel Proctor's intercepted letter— Bidding the captor of Fort Mackinaw Send but five thousand warriors from the West, Which, be it artifice or not, yet points To great and serious danger. Add to this Brock's rumoured coming with his Volunteers, All burning to avenge their fathers' wrongs, And our great foe, Tecumseh, fired o'er his; These are the reasons; grave enough, I think, Which urge me to withdraw from Canada, And wait for further force; so, go at once, And help our soldiers to recross the river.

CASS. But I see——

HULL. No "buts"! You have my orders.

CASS. No solid reason here, naught but a group Of flimsy apprehensions——

HULL. Go at once! Who kicks at judgment, lacks it.

CASS. I——

HULL. No more! I want not wrangling but obedience here.

[Exeunt CASS and other officers incensed.]

Would I had ne'er accepted this command! Old men are out of favour with the time, And youthful folly scoffs at hoary age. There's not a man who executes my orders With a becoming grace; not one but sulks, And puffs his disapproval with a frown. And what am I? A man whom Washington Nodded approval of, and wrote it too! Yet here, in judgment and discretion both, Ripe to the dropping, scorned and ridiculed. Oh, Jefferson, what mischief have you wrought— Confounding Nature's order, setting fools To prank themselves, and sit in wisdom's seat By right divine, out Heroding a King's! But I shall keep straight on—pursue my course, Responsible and with authority, Though boasters gird at me, and braggarts frown.

[Exit.]



SCENE FIFTH.—SANDWICH, ON THE DETROIT.—A ROOM IN THE BABY MANSION.

Enter GENERAL BROCK, COLONELS PROCTOR, GLEGG, BABY, MACDONELL, NICHOL, ELLIOTT and other Officers.

BABY. Welcome! thrice welcome! Brave Brock, to Sandwich and this loyal roof! Thank God, your oars, those weary levers bent In many a wave, have been unshipped at last; And, now methinks those lads who stemmed the flood Would boldly face the fire.

BROCK. I never led Men of more cheerful and courageous heart, But for whose pluck, foul weather and short seas, 'Twere truth to say, had made an end of us. Another trial will, I think, approve The manly strain this Canada hath bred.

PROCTOR. 'Tis pity that must be denied them now, Since all our enemies have left our shores.

BROCK. No, by my soul, it shall not be denied! Our foe's withdrawal hath a magnet's power And pulls my spirit clean into his fort. But I have asked you to confer on this. What keeps Tecumseh?

ELLIOTT. 'Tis his friend, Lefroy, Who now rejoins him, after bootless quest Of Iena, Tecumseh's niece.

BROCK. Lefroy! I had a gentle playmate of that name In Guernsey, long ago.

BABY. It may be he. I know him, and, discoursing our affairs, Have heard him speak of you, but in a strain Peculiar to the past.

BROCK. He had in youth. All goods belonging to the human heart, But fell away to Revolution's side— Impulsive ever, and o'er prompt to see In kings but tyrants, and in laws but chains. I have not seen or heard of him for years.

BABY. The very man!

BROCK. 'Tis strange to find him here!

ELLIOTT. He calls the red men freedom's last survival; Says truth is only found in Nature's growth— Her first intention, ere false knowledge rose To frame distinctions, and exhaust the world.

BROCK. Few find like him the substance of their dreams. But, Elliott, let us seek Tecumseh now. Stay, friends, till we return.

[Exeunt BROCK and ELLIOTT.]

GLEGG. How odd to find An old friend in this fashion!

PROCTOR. Humph! a fool Who dotes on forest tramps and savages. Why, at the best, they are the worst of men; And this Tecumseh has so strained my temper, So over-stept my wishes, thrid my orders, That I would sooner ask the devil's aid Than such as his.

NICHOL. Why, Brock is charmed with him! And, as you saw, at Amherstburg he put Most stress upon opinion when he spoke.

MACDONELL. Already they've determined on assault.

PROCTOR. Then most unwisely so! There are no bounds To this chief's rashness, and our General seem Swayed by it too, or rashness hath a twin.

NICHOL. Well, rashness is the wind of enterprise, And blows its banners out. But here they come Who dig beneath their rashness for their reasons.

Re-enter GENERAL BROCK and COLONEL ELLIOTT, accompanied by TECUMSEH, conversing.

TECUMSEH. We have been much abused! and have abused Our fell destroyers too—making our wrongs The gauge of our revenge. And, still forced back From the first justice and the native right, Ever revenge hath sway. This we would void, And, by a common boundary, prevent. So, granting that a portion of our own Is still our own, then let that portion be Confirmed by sacred treaty to our tribes. This is my sum of asking—you have ears!

BROCK. Nay, then, Tecumseh, speak of it no more! My promise is a pledge, and from a man Who never turned his back on friend or foe. The timely service you have done our cause, Rating not what's to come, would warrant it. So, if I live, possess your soul of this— No treaty for a peace, if we prevail, Will bear a seal that doth not guard your rights. Here, take my sash, and wear it for my sake— Tecumseh can esteem a soldier's gift.

TECUMSEH. Thanks, thanks, my brother, I have faith in you; My life is at your service!

BROCK. Gentlemen, Have you considered my proposal well Touching the capture of Detroit by storm? What say you Colonel Proctor?

PROCTOR. I object! 'Tis true, the enemy has left our shores, But what a sorry argument is this! For his withdrawal, which some sanguine men, Jumping all other motives, charge to fear, Prudence, more deeply searching, lays to craft. Why should a foe, who far outnumbers us, Retreat o'er this great river, save to lure Our poor force after him? And, having crossed— Our weakness seen, and all retreat cut off— What would ensue but absolute surrender, Or sheer destruction? 'Tis too hazardous! Discretion balks at such a mad design.

BROCK. What say the rest?

1ST OFFICER. I fear 'tis indiscreet.

2ND OFFICER. 'Twould be imprudent with our scanty force.

BROCK. What say you, Nichol, to my foolish scheme?

NICHOL. I think it feasible and prudent too. Hull's letters, captured by Tecumseh, prove His soldiers mutinous, himself despondent. And dearly Rumor loves the wilderness, Which gives a thousand echoes to a tongue That ever swells and magnifies our strength. And in this flux we take him, on the hinge Of two uncertainties—his force and ours. So, weighed, objections fall; and our attempt, Losing its grain of rashness, takes its rise In clearest judgment, whose effect will nerve All Canada to perish, ere she yield.

BROCK. My very thoughts! What says Tecumseh now?

TECUMSEH. I say attack the fort! This very night I'll cross my braves, if you decide on this.

BROCK. Then say no more! Glegg, take a flag of truce, And bear to Hull this summons to surrender. Tell him Tecumseh and his force are here— A host of warriors brooding on their wrongs, Who, should resistance flush them to revenge, Would burst from my control like wind-borne fire, And match on earth the miseries of hell. But, should he yield, his safety is assured. Tell him Tecumseh's word is pledged to this, Who, though his temperate will in peace is law Yet casts a loose rein to enforced rage. Add what your fancy dictates; but the stress Place most on what I speak of—this he fears, And these same fears, well wrought upon by you, May prove good workers for us yet.

GLEGG. I go, And shall acquit myself as best I can.

[Exit GLEGG.]

BROCK. Tecumseh, wonder not at such a message! The guilty conscience of your foes is judge Of their deserts, and hence 'twill be believed. The answer may be 'nay,' so to our work— Which perfected, we shall confer again, Then cross at break of morn.

[Exeunt all but TECUMSEH.]

TECUMSEH. This is a man! And our great father, waking from his sleep, Has sent him to oar aid. Master of Life, Endue my warriors with double strength! May the wedged helve be faithful to the axe, The arrow fail not, and the flint be firm! That our great vengeance, like the whirlwind fell, May cleave through thickets of our enemies A broad path to our ravaged lands again.

[Exit.]



SCENE SIXTH.—MOONLIGHT. THE BANK OF THE DETROIT RIVER, NEAR THE BABY MANSION.

Enter CAPTAIN ROBINSON.

ROBINSON. I thought to find my brother here—poor boy, The day's hard labor woos him to his rest. How sweet the night! how beautiful the place! Who would not love thee, good old Sandwich town! Abode of silence and sweet summer dreams— Let speculation pass, nor progress touch Thy silvan homes with hard, unhallowed hand! The light wind whispers, and the air is rich With vapours which exhale into the night; And, round me here, this village in the leaves Darkling doth slumber. How those giant pears Loom with uplifted and high-ancient heads, Like forest trees! A hundred years ago They, like their owner, had their roots in France— In fruitful Normandy—but here refuse Unlike, to multiply, as if their spirits Grieved in their alien home. The village sleeps, So should I seek that hospitable roof Of thine, thou good old loyalist, Baby! Thy mansion is a shrine, whereto shall come On pilgrimages, in the distant days, The strong and generous youths of Canada, And, musing there in rich imaginings, Restore the balance and the beaver-pack To the wide hall; see forms of savagery, Vanished for ages, and the stately shades Of great Tecumseh and high-hearted Brock. So shall they profit, drinking of the past, And, drinking loyally, enlarge the faith Which love of country breeds in noble minds. But now to sleep—good night unto the world!

[Exit.]



SCENE SEVENTH.—THE SAME.

Enter IENA, in distress.

IENA. Oh, have I eaten of the spirit-plant! My head swims, and my senses are confused, And all grows dark around me. Where am I? Alas! I know naught save of wanderings, And this poor bosom's weight. What pang is here, Which all my pressing cannot ease away? Poor heart! poor heart! Oh, I have travelled far, And in the forest's brooding place, or where Night-shrouded surges beat on lonely shores, Have sickened with my deep, dread, formless fears; But, never have I felt what now I feel! Great Spirit, hear me! help me!—this is death!

[_Staggers and swoons behind some shrubbery.]

Enter_ GENERAL BROCK _and_ LEFROY.

BROCK. You may be right, Lefroy! but, for my part, I stand by old tradition and the past. My father's God is wise enough for me, And wise enough this grey world's wisest men.

LEFROY. I tell you, Brock, The world is wiser than its wisest men, And shall outlive the wisdom of its gods Made after man's own liking. The crippled throne No longer shelters the uneasy king, And outworn sceptres and imperial crowns Now grow fantastic as an idiot's dream. These perish with the kingly pastime, war, And war's blind tool, the monster, Ignorance! Both hateful in themselves, but this the worst. One tyrant will remain—one impious fiend. Whose name is Gold—our earliest, latest foe! Him must the earth destroy, ere man can rise, Rightly self made, to his high destiny, Purged of his grossest faults; humane and kind; Co-equal with his fellows, and as free.

BROCK. Lefroy, such thoughts, let loose, would wreck the world. The kingly function is the soul of state, The crown the emblem of authority, And loyalty the symbol of all faith. Omitting these, man's government decays— His family falls into revolt and ruin. But let us drop this bootless argument, And tell me more of those unrivalled wastes You and Tecumseh visited.

LEFROY. We left The silent forest, and, day after day, Great prairies swept beyond our aching sight Into the measureless West; uncharted realms, Voiceless and calm, save when tempestuous wind Rolled the rank herbage into billows vast, And rushing tides, which never found a shore. And tender clouds, and veils of morning mist Cast flying shadows, chased by flying light, Into interminable wildernesses, Flushed with fresh blooms, deep perfumed by the rose, And murmurous with flower-fed bird and bee. The deep-grooved bison-paths like furrows lay, Turned by the cloven hoofs of thundering herds Primeval, and still travelled as of yore. And gloomy valleys opened at our feet— Shagged with dusk cypresses and hoary pine; And sunless gorges, rummaged by the wolf, Which through long reaches of the prairie wound, Then melted slowly into upland vales, Lingering, far-stretched amongst the spreading hills.

BROCK. What charming solitudes! And life was there!

LEFROY. Yes, life was there! inexplicable life, Still wasted by inexorable death. There had the stately stag his battle-field— Dying for mastery among his hinds. There vainly sprung the affrighted antelope, Beset by glittering eyes and hurrying feet. The dancing grouse at their insensate sport, Heard not the stealthy footstep of the fox; The gopher on his little earthwork stood, With folded arms, unconscious of the fate That wheeled in narrowing circles overhead, And the poor mouse, on heedless nibbling bent, Marked not the silent coiling of the snake. At length we heard a deep and solemn sound— Erupted moanings of the troubled earth Trembling beneath innumerable feet. A growing uproar blending in our ears, With noise tumultuous as ocean's surge, Of bellowings, fierce breath and battle shock, And ardor of unconquerable herds. A multitude whose trampling shook the plains, With discord of harsh sound and rumblings deep, As if the swift revolving earth had struck, And from some adamantine peak recoiled— Jarring. At length we topped a high-browed hill— The last and loftiest of a file of such— And, lo! before us lay the tameless stock, Slow-wending to the northward like a cloud! A multitude in motion, dark and dense— Far as the eye could reach, and farther still, In countless myriads stretched for many a league.

BROCK. You fire me with the picture! What a scene!

LEFROY. Nation on nation was invillaged there, Skirting the flanks of that imbanded host; With chieftains of strange speech and port of war, Who, battle-armed, in weather-brawny bulk, Roamed fierce and free in huge and wild content. These gave Tecumseh greetings fair and kind, Knowing the purpose havened in his soul. And he, too, joined the chase as few men dare; For I have seen him, leaping from his horse, Mount a careering bull in foaming flight, Urge it to fury o'er its burden strange, Yet cling tenacious, with a grip of steel, Then, by a knife-plunge, fetch it to its knees In mid-career, and pangs of speedy death.

BROCK. You rave, Lefroy! or saw this in a dream.

LEFROY. No, no; 'tis true—I saw him do it, Brock! Then would he seek the old, and with his spoils Restore them to the bounty of their youth, Cheering the crippled lodge with plenteous feasts, And warmth of glossy robes, as soft as down, 'Till withered cheeks ran o'er with feeble smiles, And tongues, long silent, babbled of their prime.

BROCK. This warrior's fabric is of perfect parts! A worthy champion of his race—he heaps Such giant obligations on our heads As will outweigh repayment. It is late, And rest must preface war's hot work to-morrow, Else would I talk till morn. How still the night! Here Peace has let her silvery tresses down, And falls asleep beside the lapping wave. Wilt go with me?

LEFROY. Nay, I shall stay awhile.

BROCK. You know my quarters and the countersign— Good-night, Lefroy!

LEFROY. Good-night, good-night, good friend!

[Exit BROCK.]

Give me the open sleep, whose bed is earth, With airy ceiling pinned by golden stars, Or vaultage more confined, plastered with clouds! Your log-roofed barrack-sleep, 'twixt drum and drum, Suits men who dream of death, and not of love. Love cannot die, nor its exhausted life, Exhaling like a breath into the air, Blend with the universe again. It lives, Knit to its soul forever. Iena! Dead in the forest wild—earth cannot claim Aught but her own from thee. Sleep on! sleep on!

IENA. (Reviving) What place is this?

LEFROY. Who's there? What voice is that!

IENA. Where am I now?

LEFROY. I'll follow up that sound! A desperate hope now ventures in my heart!

IENA. Help me, kind Spirit!

LEFROY. I could pick that voice From out a choir of angels! Iena!

[Finds her behind the shrubbery.]

Tis she! 'tis she! Speak to me, Iena— No earthly power can mar your life again, For I am here to shield it with my own.

IENA. Lefroy!

LEFROY. Yes, he!

IENA. My friends! found, found at last!

LEFROY. Found, found my love! I swear it on your lips, And seal love's contract there! Again—again— Ah me! all earthly pleasure is a toil Compared with one long look upon your face.

IENA. O, take me to my friends! A faintness came Upon me, and no farther could I go.

LEFROY. What spirit led you here?

IENA. My little bark Is yonder by the shore—but take me hence! For I am worn and weak with wandering.

LEFROY. Come with me then.

Enter the PROPHET, who stalks gloomily across the stage—scowling at IENA and LEFROY as he passes out.

IENA. The Prophet! I am lost!

LEFROY. This monster here! But he is powerless now. Fear him not, Iena! Tecumseh's wrath Burns 'gainst him still—he dare not do thee hurt.

IENA. Must I endure for ever this fiend's hate? He stabbed me with his eye—

[Swoons away.]

LEFROY. O, horrible! Let us but meet again, and I shall send His curst soul out of this accursed world!

[Exit LEFROY, carrying IENA.]



SCENE EIGHTH.—THE HIGHWAY THROUGH THE FOREST LEADING TO FORT DETROIT—THE FORT IN THE DISTANCE; CANNON AND GUNNERS AT THE GATE.

Enter TECUMSEH, STAYETA, and other Chiefs and Warriors.

TECUMSEH. There is the Long-Knive's fort, within whose walls We lose our lives, or find our lands to-day. Fight for that little space—'tis wide domain! That small enclosure shuts us from our homes. There are the victors in the Prophet's strife— Within that fort they lie—those bloody men Who burnt your town, to light their triumph up, And drove your women to the withered woods To shudder through the cold slow-creeping night, And help their infants to out-howl the wolf. Oh, the base Long-Knife grows to head, not heart— A pitiless and murdering minister To his desires! But let us now be strong, And, if we conquer, merciful as strong! Swoop like the eagles on their prey, but turn In victory your taste to that of doves; For ever it has been reproach to us That we have stained our deeds with cruelty, And dyed our axes in our captives' blood. So, here, retort not on a vanquished foe, But teach him lessons in humanity. Now let the big heart, swelling in each breast, Strain every rib for lodgment! Warriors! Bend to your sacred task, and follow me.

STAYETA. Lead on! We follow you!

KICKAPOO CHIEF. Advance ye braves!

TECUMSEH. Stay! make a circuit in the open woods— Cross, and recross, and double on the path— So shall the Long-Knives overcount our strength. Do this, Stayeta, whilst I meet my friend— My brave white brother, and confer with him.

Enter GENERAL BROCK, PROCTOR, NICHOL, MACDONELL and other Officers and Forces, on the highway. TECUMSEH goes down to meet them.

BROCK. Now by God's providence we face Detroit, Either to sleep within its walls to-night, Or in deep beds dug by exulting foes. Go, Nichol, make a swift reconnaissance— We'll follow on.

NICHOL. I shall, but, ere I go I do entreat you, General, take the rear; Those guns are shrewdly placed without the gate— One raking fire might rob us of your life, And, this lost, all is lost.

BROCK. Well meant, my friend! But I am here to lead, not follow, men Whose confidence has come with me thus far! Go, Nichol, to your task!

[Exit NICHOL. TECUMSEH advances.]

Tecumseh, hail! Brave chieftain, you have made your promise good.

TECUMSEH. My brother stands to his! and I but wait His orders to advance—my warriors Are ripe for the assault.

BROCK. Deploy them, then, Upon our landward flank, and skirt the woods, Whilst we advance in column to attack.

[TECUMSEH rejoins his warriors.]

Signal our batteries on the farther shore To play upon the Fort! Be steady friends— Be steady! Now upon your country turn Your multiplying thoughts, and strike for her! Strike for your distant and inviolate homes, Perfumed with holy prayer at this hour! Strike! with your fathers' virtue in your veins You must prevail—on, on, to the attack!

[BROCK _and forces advance towards the Port. A heavy cannonading from the British batteries.]

Re-enter_ NICHOL _hastily_.

NICHOL Stay, General! I saw a flag of truce Cross from the Fort to the Canadian shore.

BROCK. Halt! There's another from yon bastion flung; And, see! another waves adown the road— Borne by an officer—what think you, Nichol?

NICHOL Your threats are conquerors! The Fort is ours!

GLEGG. Yes, look! the gunners have been all withdrawn Who manned the cannon at yon western gate.

PROCTOR. So many men to yield without a blow! Why, this is wonderful! It cannot be!

BROCK. Say, rather, should not be, and yet it is! 'Tis plainly written in this captain's face.

Officer with flag of truce approaches.

OFFICER. This letter from our General contains Proposals to capitulate—pray send An officer to ratify the terms.

[GENERAL BROCK reads letter.]

BROCK. You have a wise and politic commander!

OFFICER. Our General knowing your superior force—

NICHOL. (Aside.) O this is good! 'tis barely half his own!

OFFICER. And, noting your demand of yesterday With clearer judgment, doth accede to it, To bar effusion of much precious blood By reasonable treaty of surrender.

BROCK. Why, this is excellent, and rare discretion!

OFFICER. He fears your Indians could not be restrained. Our women's prayers—red visions of the knife—

THE END