ODE II

Madam!—Stay where you are, 'Tis better, sure, by far Than venturing on an element of danger, Where heavy seas and stormy gales May wreck your hulk and rend your sails, Or Europe's black-guards treat you like a stranger,

When first you stuck upon your ways (Where half New England came to gaze) We antifederals thought it something odd That where all art had been display'd, And even the builder deem'd a little god, He had your ways not better laid.

Omens, indeed, are now exploded, But you have something dismal boded: Say—must the navy-system go to rack, And things advance at such a rate That every wisely govern'd state Will hold the author of the scheme a quack.

O frigate Constitution! stay on shore: Why would you meet old Ocean's roar? Was man design'd To be confin'd In those fire-spitting hells a navy nam'd, Where Vice herself, abash'd, asham'd, Turns from the horrid scene of blood and bones, And mangled carcases of men; and grunts and groans.

Remaining on the stocks, in gloomy pride, Without an anchor thou shalt safely ride; No pumping there, To make men swear, Waves you'll despise, Tho' fierce they rise To heaven when storms and tempests blow: Steady as fate, unmov'd will you appear When other ships the foaming surges tear— No fear of broaching to.

Nor useless need you be, if right we deem, For harmless purposes you proper seem— Scorn to be made a bloody, murdering den; Let folks of sense At less expense Convert you into stores—to bring in rents; Stow pumpkins there—or anything but Men.