| Things of deep sense we may in prose unfold, But they much more in lofty numbers told. -- WALLER. |
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'TIS March - the frosted ways are crystal 'neath the crescent light, Fitly relucent glow for deeds that blot, yet gild this night - Its stain, the patriots' mantling blood as light effused as spray, Its gold an auric glimmer ere a dawning Nation's day, Rising to flame in freemen's souls, hot-fanned by hirelings' breath, While air bereft of liberty is charged with dews of death. Long has a People's Chivalry hurled back the helot chain, Spurned links of thrall with proud will fetterless in vain; A Charter scorned, an om'nous squadron brooding on the Bay, Troops quartered on a chafing Town tell Britain's lust of sway. With idolled leaders outlawed - imposts and vassal taxes planned - Her aliened offspring yield no tribute of a filial hand. "Adams and Hancock wilt be seized!" - this night the warnings ring - Through King Street rumors steal despite the sentry of the King - "Disperse, conspirators!" the stern demand is heard from him - The group, in sullen silence firm, is riveted and grim; Hence free civilians throng, here Preston's reinforcements meet - A moment, and a deathlike stillness falls upon the street. Fiercely the scene is rent with roar of musketry and strife - Swiftly the startled people wake to patriotic life; Boston is roused to hear her stricken sons' avenging cry, The crimson on her streets, foreshowing crime of deeper dye. Heartsl beat - " to arms" - eyes flash like signal fires on Beacon Height, New England's righteous flame is stirred to rage of martial might; "Fire! Fire! " rings forth - from Brattle Street's bold tower outpeals the bell - That fire ignites a Nation's life - that peal is thraldom's knell. Then was a blow at king-craft by a sovereign people aimed - Then, as an Adams proved, "an Empire's severance stood proclaimed." |
| PROEMIAL | CONTENTS | SAM ADAMS |
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