Tecumseh monologue (Act 4) — Tecumseh : a Drama

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.