First turn the Ship of State from out her course
Beneath the banner of a patriotism,
Whose pure effusion they adulterate
With the admixture of their base designs.
Woe, then, thrice woe then to the ill-starred vessel
Whose helm the hand of maddened Passion grasps,
Whose sails the breeze of Fury fills, whose course
Lies on the stormy main of Anarchy.
And happy on the other hand the ship
Whose crew of honest, stalwart patriots,
Reared in the school of true self-government
And fully conscious of their virtues' power,
Arise, suppress the wicked in their band,
And with their eyes fixed on the Polar Star
Of Liberty, with steadfast will and hand.
Direct their course through whirpools, shoals and cliffs,
Into the harbor of prosperity.
You quite forget another chance, meseems,
Which is of all the likeliest, to wit:
When shall the rightful owner of the ship
Regain possession of his property.
And visit dire but righteous punishment
Upon your pirates' heads [sneeringly], both good and bad?