Gayly the plume of the horseman was dancing, Never to shadow his cold brow again; Proudly at morning the war-steed was prancing, Reeking and panting he droops on the rein; Pale is the lip of scorn, Voiceless the trumpet horn, Torn is the silken-fringed red cross on high; Many a belted breast Low on the turf shall rest Ere the dark hunters the herd have passed by. Snow-girdled crags where the hoarse wind is raving, Rocks where the weary floods murmur and wail, Wilds where the fern by the furrow is waving, Reeled with the echoes that rode on the gale; Far as the tempest thrills Over the darkened hills, Far as the sunshine streams over the plain, Roused by the tyrant band, Woke all the mighty land, Girdled for battle, from mountain to main. Green be the graves where her martyrs are lying! Shroudless and tombless they sunk to their rest, While o'er their ashes the starry fold flying Wraps the proud eagle they roused from his nest. Borne on her Northern pine, Long o'er the foaming brine Spread her broad banner to storm and to sun; Heaven keep her ever free, Wide as o'er land and sea Floats the fair emblem her heroes have won! OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES. The British pressed on to Concord, but the greater part of the stores had been hidden, and minute-men were gathering from all directions. Colonel Smith, commanding the British, began to realize the dangers of his position and about noon started to retreat to Boston. And none too soon, for the whole country was aroused. Minute-men swarmed in from all directions, and taking advantage of every tree and hillock by the roadside, poured into the British a fire so deadly that the retreat soon became a disorderly flight. The timely arrival of strong reinforcements was all that saved the British from annihilation. NEW ENGLAND'S CHEVY CHASE [April 19, 1775] 'Twas the dead of the night. By the pine-knot's red light Brooks lay, half-asleep, when he heard the alarm,-- Only this, and no more, from a voice at the door: "The Red-Coats are out, and have passed Phips's farm." Brooks was booted and spurred; he said never a word; Took his horn from its peg, and his gun from its rack; To the cold midnight air he led out his white mare, Strapped the girths and the bridle, and sprang to her back. Up the North Country road at her full pace she strode, Till Brooks reined her up at John Tarbell's to say, "We have got the alarm,--they have left Phips's farm; You rouse the East Precinct, and I'll go this way." John called his hired man, and they harnessed the span; They roused Abram Garfield, and Abram called me: "Turn out right away; let no minute-man stay; The Red-Coats have landed at Phips's," says he.