“At Lexington they did appear Array’d in hostile Form”

Lemuel Haynes was born in West Hartford, Connecticut, in 1753. His father was African, his mother a white New Englander who abandoned her baby after five months.

David Rose, a deacon in Granville, Massachusetts, and his wife Elizabeth took the baby into their home under indenture. Worshipping with the family, Lemuel learned to read at the local school.

(Some recent profiles of Haynes say David Rose was blind and little Lemuel read to him, but there’s no mention of such a disability in Timothy Mather Cooley’s 1837 biography.)

In 1774 Haynes came of age as a free man. He was in the Granville militia company when it marched east at the start of the Revolutionary War. In the fall of 1776, Haynes enlisted for short service and marched to Fort Ticonderoga, only to catch typhus and have to return home.

In 1779 Haynes started to pursue a religious career, working for Connecticut ministers in exchange for training. He was ordained in 1785, and three years later took a permanent post as minister in Rutland, Vermont. Well, it was permanent until 1818, when that congregation dismissed him, but then he moved on to Manchester, Vermont, and Granville, New York.

During his lifetime Haynes published sermons and poetry. More manuscripts came to light in the 1980s, including this poem.

The Battle of Lexington

A Poem on the inhuman Tragedy perpetrated on the 19th of April 1775 by a Number of the Ministerial Brittish Troops under the Command of Thomas Gage, which Parricides and Ravages are shocking Displays of ministerial & tyrannic Vengeance composed by Lemuel a young Mollatto Man Mollato who obtained what little knowledge he possesses, by his own Application to Letters.

1
Some Seraph now my Breast inspire
whilst my Urania sings
while She would try her solemn Lyre
Upon poetic Strings.
2
Some gloomy Vale or gloomy Seat
where Sable veils the sky
Become that Tongue that wd. repeat
The dreadfull Tragedy
3
The Nineteenth Day of April last
We ever shall retain
As monumental of the past
most bloody shocking Scene
4
Then Tyrants fill’d wth. horrid Rage
A fatal Journey went
& Unmolested to engage
And slay the innocent
5
Then did we see old Bonner rise
And, borrowing Spite from Hell
They stride along with magic Eyes
where Sons of Freedom dwell

For those not raised on John Foxe’s Book of Martyrs, Bishop Edmund Bonner oversaw the burning of Protestants under Queen Mary, two centuries before.

6
At Lexington they did appear
Array’d in hostile Form
And tho our Friends were peacefull there
Yet on them fell the Storm
7
Eight most unhappy Victims fell
Into the Arms of Death
Unpitied by those Tribes of Hell
Who curs’d them wth. their Breath
8
The Savage Band still march along
For Concord they were bound
While Oaths & Curses from their Tongue
Accent with hellish Sound
9
To prosecute their fell Desire
At Concord they unite
Two Sons of Freedom there expire
By their tyrannic Spite
10
Thus did our Friends endure their Rage
Without a murm’ring Word
Till die they must or else engage
And join with one Accord
11
Such Pity did their Breath inspire
That long they bore the Rod
And with Reluctance they conspire
To shed the human Blood
12
But Pity could no longer sway
Tho’ ’t is a pow’rfull Band
For Liberty now bleeding lay
And calld them to withstand
13
The Awfull Conflict now begun
To rage with furious Pride
And Blood in great Effusion run
From many a wounded Side
14
For Liberty, each Freeman Strives
As its a Gift of God
And for it willing yield their Lives
And Seal it with their Blood
15
Thrice happy they who thus resign
Into the peacefull Grave
Much better there, in Death Confin’d
Than a Surviving Slave
16
This Motto may adorn their Tombs,
(Let tyrants come and view)
“We rather seek these silent Rooms
Than live as Slaves to You”
17
Now let us view our Foes awhile
who thus for Blood did thirst
See: stately Buildings fall a Spoil
To their unstoick Lust
18
Many whom Sickness did compel
To seek some Safe Retreat
Were dragged from their sheltering Cell
And mangled in the Street
19
Nor were our aged Gransires free
From their vindictive Pow’r
On yonder Ground lo: there you see
Them weltering in their Gore
20
Mothers with helpless Infants strive
T’ avoid the tragic Sight
All fearfull wether yet alive
Remain’d their Soul’s delight
21
Such awefull Scenes have not had Vent
Since Phillip’s War begun
Nay sure a Phillip would relent [?]
And such vile Deeds would shun
22
But Stop and see the Pow’r of God
Who lifts his Banner high
Jehovah now extends his Rod
And makes our Foes to fly

TOMORROW: Fifteen more verses.