And cut their petticoats to rags
To make your bright three-coloured flags;
Yet sacrilegious grape and ball
Deform the works of Stone and Stael,
And trembling, without food or breeches,
Our sailors curse the painted ——.[[257]]
Children of Muskein’s anxious care,
Source of my hope and my despair,
Gun-Boats—unless you mean hereafter
To furnish food for British laughter—