[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.