In 1817 the regiment returned to England, and disembarked at Portsmouth.
CHAPTER XXXVII.
“’Twas a soldier who spoke—but his voice now is gone,
And lowly the hero is lying;
No sound meets the ear, save the crocodile’s moan,
Or the breeze through the palm-tree sighing.
But lone though he rests where the camel is seen,
By the wilderness heavily pacing;
His grave in our bosoms shall ever be green,
And his monument ne’er know defacing.”