Forced from their lairs by hunger, to our doors,
Swift punishment will light upon their heads.

TECUMSEH. Put yokes upon them! let their mouths be
bound!
For they are swine who root with champing jaws
Their fathers' fields, and swallow their own offspring.

_Enter the_ PROPHET _in his robe--his face
discoloured_.

The Prophet! Welcome, my brother, from the lodge of
dreams!
Hail to thee, sagest among men--great heir
Of all the wisdom of Pengasega!

PROPHET. This pale-face here again! this hateful snake,
Who crawls between our people and their laws!
(_Aside_.)
Your greeting, brother, takes the chill from mine,
When last we parted you were not so kind.

TECUMSEH. The Prophet's wisdom covers all. He knows
Why Nature varies in her handiwork,
Moulding one man from snow, the next from fire--

PROPHET. Which temper is your own, and blazes up,
In winds of passion like a burning pine.

TECUMSEH. 'Twill blaze no more unless to scorch our