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.
[132] Time-Piece, October 18, 1797.
ODE III[133]
To Duncan Doolittle
A "half-starved" Democrat
"Lodge where you must, drink small-beer where you can,
"But eat no roast pig, if no Federal man."