“Off, off!” we cried, and parted; Then dragg’d from under the hay[7] The guns our goods had cover’d When borne from Boston Bay. Our wives pour’d out the treasure They too had brought from town,[7] The powder, flint, and bullets Well tuck’d in box and gown. We arm’d in haste, but hardly Had left with pouch and gun, Before the bell rang, telling Of Paul in Lexington. At midnight saw he Charlestown; Not two had struck the clock[8] Yet here the trembling belfry Was rallying all its flock. They sought the green together; Set guards on every road; Then sought the inn to measure The fate they might forebode. Ten times their band in number Were those they watch’d before; And here should they withstand them? Or fly to join with more? “Stand here!” said Jonas Parker[19]; “The law has arm’d the town.” “And here,” said Clark,[9] their pastor, “Be right, and shame the crown. “What, though they fire, and fight us?— Make every heart rain blood? Their guns, if heard in Concord, May save it from the flood. “And if the blood we give them Shall save the colony-stores, Like fruit shall we be falling, Red-ripe to all our cores. “And if the blood we give them Be given to make us free, The court may learn a lesson And let our charters be. “We are few, but what are numbers?— This church may proof supply That right may move to triumph With only one—to die!” He paused—the door flew open; All heard a watch call out: “Full drive a horseman coming! Perhaps an army-scout!” And out they flew to face him; But on the charger fleet No enemy, only a neighbor,[10] Came galloping up the street. “The foe are coming!” he stammer’d; “They capture all they meet; I dodg’d a man and musket; And hark!—you hear their feet!” We hush’d and heard a tramping That well might bring despair, And cause the nerves to tremble Their loads of fear to bear. “Sound drum[11] and gun,” said Parker,[10] “And bell! If they but halt, Where time is all we plan for, We win without an assault.” They halted,[12] then drew nearer;— What need of halting more? They came, a veteran army; We never had fought before. We stood but sixty farmers,[13] Our homes and wives between, Whose hands, up waved or wringing, Seem’d fringing half the green. “Be theirs the blame,” said Parker[14]; “Fire not till they fire first. God’s house is here, and heaven, If worse should come to worst.” Athwart the gray of morning, None knew how large a force Came crowding against the common, With cries and orders hoarse.