The _Yarmouth_ saw, with dire dismay, Her wounded hull, shrouds shot away, Her boldest heroes dead-- She saw amidst her floating slain The conquering _Randolph_ stem the main-- She saw, she turned--and fled! That hour, blest chief, had she been thine, Dear Biddle, had the powers divine Been kind as thou wert brave; But Fate, who doomed thee to expire, Prepared an arrow, tipt with fire, And marked a watery grave. And in that hour, when conquest came, Winged at his ship a pointed flame, That not even he could shun-- The battle ceased, the _Yarmouth_ fled, The bursting _Randolph_ ruin spread, And left her task undone![172] [170] This poem was first published as a pamphlet in 1781, by Francis Bailey of Philadelphia, in connection with "The Prison Ship." Nicholas Biddle, born in Philadelphia in 1750, was a sailor from his boyhood. At one time he served beside Nelson in the British navy. In 1776, when the new frigate _Randolph_, of thirty-two guns, was launched at Philadelphia, he was made commander, and after several unimportant cruises he was placed over a small fleet of war vessels, with the _Randolph_ as flagship. In March, 1779, he fell in with the British ship _Yarmouth_, and after a vigorous action of twenty minutes, the _Randolph_ was blown up by her own magazine, only four men escaping with their lives. Freneau has made several minor errors. The date 1776, which is found on all the versions of the poem, should manifestly be 1779. The _Yarmouth_ did not attempt flight, nor did Biddle die at the moment of victory, as the poet represents. In the words of Cooper, "Victory was almost hopeless, even had all his vessels behaved equally well with his own ship." Captain Vincent had only five men killed and twelve wounded at the time of the explosion, yet the gallantry and skill of Biddle in the face of great odds justify all the praise that Freneau gives him. [171] "His ancient honours fled."--_Ed. 1786._ This stanza was omitted from the 1795 edition, but returned again in 1809. [172] "And lost what honour won."--_Ed. 1786._ "And lost what courage won."--_Ed. 1795._ CAPTAIN JONES'S INVITATION[173] Thou, who on some dark mountain's brow Hast toil'd thy life away till now, And often from that rugged steep Beheld the vast extended deep, Come from thy forest, and with me Learn what it is to go to sea. There endless plains the eye surveys As far from land the vessel strays; No longer hill nor dale is seen, The realms of death intrude between, But fear no ill; resolve, with me To share the dangers of the sea. But look not there for verdant fields-- Far different prospects Neptune yields; Green seas shall only greet the eye, Those seas encircled by the sky. Immense and deep--come then with me And view the wonders of the sea.