He has returned! So then the growing current of my power Must fall again into the stately stream Of his great purpose. But a moment past I stood upon ambition's height, and now My brother comes to break my greatness up, And merge it in his own. I know his thoughts-- That I am but a helper to his ends; And, were there not a whirlpool in my soul Of hatred which would fain ingulf our foes, I would engage my cunning and my craft 'Gainst his simplicity, and win the lead. But, hist, he comes! I must assume the role By which I pander to his purposes. (Enter.) TECUMSEH. (TECUMSEH: Who is this standing in the darkened robes?) The Prophet! Olliwayshilla, who probes The spirit-world, and holds within his ken Life's secrets and the fateful deeds of men. The "One-Eyed!" Brother to the Shooting Star-- (TECUMSEH: With heart of wax, and hands not made for war.) Would that my hands were equal to my hate! Then would strange vengeance traffic on the earth; For I should treat our foes to what they crave-- Our fruitful soil--yea, ram it down their throats, And choke them with the very dirt they love. 'Tis you Tecumseh! You, are here at last, And welcome as the strong heat-bearing Spring Which opens up the pathways of revenge. What tidings from afar?

Prophet Monologue from Tecumseh : a Drama

Rehearse Prophet's monologue