Occasional ODE for the 17th of June, 1776

Now let rich music sound, And all the regions round With rapture fill; Let the full trump of same To Heaven itself proclaim The everlasting name Of Bunker's Hill.

Beneath this sky-wrapt brow What heroes sleep below; How dear to Jove! Not more belov'd were those Who foil'd celestial soes, When the old giants rose To arms above.

Now scarce eleven short years Have roll'd their rapid spheres, Through Heaven's high road! Since o'er you swelling tide Pass'd all the British pride, And water'd Bunker's side With foreign blood.

Then Charlestown's gilded spires Felt unrelenting fires, And sunk in night; But, Phoenix like, they'll rise From where their ruin lies, And strike the astonish'd eyes With glories bright.

Meand'ring to the deep, Majestic, Charles shall weep Of war no more; Fam'd as the Appian Way, The world's first Bridge, to day, All nations shall convey From shore to shore.

On our bless'd Mountain's head The festive board we'll spread With viands high; Let joy's broad bowls go round, With public spirit crown'd, We'll consecrate the ground TO LIBERTY.