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 sh.o.r.es, 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 G.o.d 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 G.o.ds 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 Tec.u.mseh 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 sh.o.r.e.

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-- s.h.a.gged with dusk cypresses and h.o.a.ry 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 mult.i.tude 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 mult.i.tude 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 Tec.u.mseh 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!