[21] “In disparity of numbers, the common was a field of murder, not a battle; Parker therefore ordered his men to disperse. Then, and not till then, did a few of them return the British fire.”—_Idem._ Behind stone walls and buildings. See _Lossing’s Pict. Field Book_, vol. i., p. 524. [22] “The British ... huzzaed thrice by way of triumph, and after ... less than thirty minutes, marched on for Concord.”—_Bancroft’s U. S._, vol vii., ch. 28, p. 297. [23] “In Lincoln (after the affair at Concord) the minute-men of Lexington, commanded by John Parker, renewed the fight.”—_Idem_, p. 305. THE RALLY OF THE FARMERS. CONCORD, APRIL 19, 1775. The Concord men had warning,[1] And flew from all their farms, Long hours before the daybreak, To save the colony’s arms. And, days before the warning, Our Salem Congress, too, Had known their stores were menaced, And here had left but few.[2] Yet these to drag and bury[1] Or hide in woods and rills, Men flock’d to town and from it, Like ants about their hills. But soon, when came the morning, The “red-coats”[3] rose in sight, With guns above them flashing Like surf in seas of light. Then, one by one, escaping What could but bode them ill, The farmers cross’d the river, And climb’d, anon, a hill.[4] To the hill there came from Bedford,[4] And Littleton, and Carlisle, And Lincoln, Chelmsford, Westford, More men through each defile. To the hill there came a rumor[5] How Lexington had fared, But no one spoke of yielding, And all for strife prepared. From the hill they watch’d the village,[6] Where every house to scout, Like busy bees the red-coats[3] Went bustling in and out. Despite our wives protesting, Their hostile blows would shower, Till scores of barrels, bursting, Beclouded all with flour.[7] Ere long, they spiked our cannon, And fill’d our pond with balls,[7] And piled the cannon’s wagons To block the roads like walls. And then this foe that fear’d it, Our “liberty-pole” cut down,[7] And burn’d it with the wagons That yet might burn the town. Soon seem’d our court-house burning,[7] With none the flames to stay;[8] But “Justice,” cried our leader, “Will house in heaven to-day. “Now wait we till these troopers Of luck have had their fill, And part of them drift hither, Or all assault our hill. “The hill, if they move up it, Their lines can never take; Like waves that dash at headlands, Their wavering ranks will break.” Just then, they most had started, Though some were plundering still, To seize two bridges crossing The stream beneath the hill.[9] To seize them was to sever Our women from our men, Our homes from those who own’d them, And what would follow then?