Tecumseh

"When the white men first set foot on our shores, they
were hungry; they had no places on which to spread
their blankets or to kindle their fires. They were
feeble; they could do nothing for themselves. Our
fathers commiserated their distress, and shared freely
with them whatever the Great Spirit had given to his
red children."

From TECUMSEH'S speech to the Osages.

DRAMATIS PERSONAE.

INDIANS:

TECUMSEH (Chief of the Shawanoes).

THE PROPHET (Brother of Tecumseh).

TARHAY (A Chief in love with Iena).

STAYETA (Chief of the Wyandots).

MIAMI, DELAWARE, KICKAPOO and DAHCOTA CHIEFS.
Warriors, Braves, Josakeeds and Runners.

MAMATEE (Wife of Tecumseh).

IENA (Niece of Tecumseh).

WEETAMORE, WINONA and other Indian Maidens.

AMERICANS:

GENERAL HARRISON _(Governor of Indiana
Territory)_.

GENERAL HULL.

COLONEL CASS.

BARRON (An Indian Agent).

TWANG, SLAUGH, GERKIN and BLOAT _(Citizens of
Vincennes)_.

_Five Councillors of Indiana Territory, Officers,
Soldiers, Volunteers, Orderlies and Scouts_.

BRITISH AND CANADIANS:

GENERAL BROCK _(Administrator of the Government of
Upper Canada)_.

COLONEL (afterwards General) PROCTOR. GLEGG,
MACDONELL, Aides-de-camp to General Brock.

NICHOL, BABY, ELIOTT, _Colonels of Canadian
Volunteers_.

McKEE, ROBINSON, Captains of Canadian Volunteers.

LEFROY _(A poet-artist, enamoured of Indian life, and
in love with IENA.)_

_Two Old men of York, U. E. Loyalists, and other
Citizens, Alien Settlers, Officers, Soldiers,
Volunteers, Orderlies and Messengers_.

TECUMSEH

ACT I.

SCENE FIRST. - THE FOREST NEAR THE PROPHET'S TOWN...

ON THE TIPPECANOE.

Enter the PROPHET.

PROPHET. Twelve moons have wasted, and no tidings
still!

Tecumseh must have perished! Joy has tears
As well as grief, and mine will freely flow -
Sembling our women's piteous privilege -
Whilst dry ambition ambles to its ends.
My schemes have swelled to greatness, and my name
Has flown so far upon the wings of fear
That nations tremble at its utterance.
Our braves abhor, yet stand in awe of me,
Who ferret witchcraft out, commune with Heaven,
And ope or shut the gloomy doors of death.
All feelings and all seasons suit ambition!
Yet my vindictive nature hath a craft,
In action slow, which matches mother-earth's:
First seed-time - then the harvest of revenge.
Who works for power, and not the good of men,
Would rather win by fear than lose by love.
Not so Tecumseh - rushing to his ends,
And followed by men's love - whose very foes
Trust him the most. Rash fool! Him do I dread,
And his imperious spirit. Twelve infant moons
Have swung in silver cradles o'er these woods,
And, still no tidings of his enterprise,
Which - all too deep and wide - has swallowed him.
And left me here unrivalled and alone.

Enter an INDIAN RUNNER.

Ha! There's a message in your eyes - what now?

RUNNER. Your brother, great Tecumseh, has returned,
And rests himself a moment ere he comes
To counsel with you here.