[169] "Built up the River Merrimack at Salisbury, Massachusetts, she was first sailed in the spring of 1778, soon after her being launched, and was then commanded by Capt. Landais, a Frenchman, who was preferred to the command as a compliment to his nation and the alliance made with us, a new people." "As Philadelphians we are entitled to some preeminence for our connection with this peculiar frigate. After the close of the War of Independence, she was owned in our city and employed as a merchant ship. When no longer seaworthy, she has been stretched upon the margin of Petty's Island to remain for a century to come, a spectacle to many river passengers."--_Watson's Annals_, III, 338. The _Alliance_ was the only one of our first navy, of the class of frigates, which escaped capture or destruction during the war. She was during the Revolution what "Old Ironsides" became in later years, the idol of the American people. She was in many engagements and was always victorious. Freneau's poem first appeared, as far as I can find, in the 1786 edition. It was probably written shortly after the launch of the frigate. ON THE DEATH OF CAPTAIN NICHOLAS BIDDLE[170] Commander of the _Randolph_ Frigate, Blown up near Barbadoes, 1776 What distant thunders rend the skies, What clouds of smoke in columns rise, What means this dreadful roar? Is from his base Vesuvius thrown, Is sky-topt Atlas tumbled down, Or Etna's self no more! Shock after shock torments my ear; And lo!--two hostile ships appear, Red lightnings round them glow: The _Yarmouth_ boasts of sixty-four, The _Randolph_ thirty-two--no more-- And will she fight this foe! The _Randolph_ soon on Stygian streams Shall coast along the land of dreams, The islands of the dead! But Fate, that parts them on the deep, May save the Briton yet to weep His days of victory fled.[171] Say, who commands that dismal blaze, Where yonder starry streamer plays? Does Mars with Jove engage! 'Tis Biddle wings those angry fires, Biddle, whose bosom Jove inspires, With more than mortal rage. Tremendous flash!--and hark, the ball Drives through old _Yarmouth,_ flames and all; Her bravest sons expire; Did Mars himself approach so nigh, Even Mars, without disgrace, might fly The _Randolph's_ fiercer fire. The Briton views his mangled crew, "And shall we strike to thirty-two?-- (Said Hector, stained with gore) "Shall Britain's flag to these descend-- "Rise, and the glorious conflict end, "Britons, I ask no more!" He spoke--they charged their cannon round, Again the vaulted heavens resound, The _Randolph_ bore it all, Then fixed her pointed cannons true-- Away the unwieldy vengeance flew; Britain, thy warriors fall.