ODE II

By Philip Morin Freneau

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.